Season 05 - Episode 02

‘overhead below them’

Iz is sitting at the head of what must once have been an impressive table. It is made of an ancient and mysterious material, mottled brown with some kind of grain running through it. It is scratched and scarred and chipped and stained and wobbles dangerously.

She is slouching in her chair, drumming three grubby fingers on the long suffering surface. Around the rest of the table, half a dozen people are talking earnestly, occasionally raising their voices or even pounding the already battered furniture with their fists.

Iz puffs out her cheeks then lets out a sigh and stares at them all, slack jawed with boredom. Each is dressed in a ridiculous costume, cobbled together from any scrap of clothing or material they felt seemed official or important. One of the is wearing a large, decorated hat.

“Onto security,” Oc is saying, the chubby little man sat to her right. “Your majesty...”

Iz glances at Oc then does a literal double take as she realises the silence is for her to fill. She still hasn't adjusted to the title and everyone is now staring at her. She shrugs.

“We believe another relocation would be...” Oc begins.

“No,” says Iz flatly, sighing again.

“But your majesty,” cries Ze, the lanky, stretched out man sitting beyond Oc. “Both GovCo and The Church are looking for you. If you stay on the same Scape for too long...”

“No,” Iz says again, simple but firm. “I'm not moving again. I'm sick of it.”

“In that case,” says Ji, the woman to Iz's left. “We should expand the Royal Guard.”

There are nods and murmurs of approval from around the table, despite Iz's frown.

“Well at least that won't be a problem,” says Oc happily. “There's not a man, woman or child on any Scape in The Levels wouldn't gladly lay down their life for you, your majesty.”

Iz closes her eyes and groans.

“Indeed,” Ze chips in. “Most would consider it an honour to sacrifice themselves...”

Her groan turns to a growl.

“No!” Iz snaps, her eyes flashing open and angry. “No-one's dying for me, alright? If they have to fight then they can fight for themselves, no-one else.”

The table falls silent and all eyes fall on her, wobbling with pride and devotion.

“Just as you say, your majesty,” croaks Ji, emotion clasping her throat.

Iz gives up, her shoulders sagging as she stares up into the darkness hanging overhead. Below them The Scape is bustling away, thousands of people living on top of one another. Life. People are living actual lives down there while she's sitting here listening to this.

“Are we done then?” she says.

“I believe that's everything on the agenda, your majesty,” says Oc. “Though if I may, I'd just like to take this opportunity to say how much we all...”

“Sure,” says Iz, standing without looking at the little man. “Great.”

She strides away from the table, clanging along the metal grid towards her latest shack. Behind her she can hear The Council of The Scapes, as they've named themselves, chattering away but then also a set of footsteps behind her so that she screws up her face in frustration.

Sure enough, a moment later, Ze falls into step beside her.

“Your majesty,” he begins, bowing his head as if being taller than her is disrespectful.

“What was our deal, Ze?” says Iz without breaking stride or looking at him.

“Well...” Ze tries.

“Hmm?” Iz says, somehow forcing an edge into the sound.

“You agreed to accept the title of Queen and meet with The Council once a week,” he says sadly. “On condition that when you weren't at the table we would all leave you alone.”

“Ah ah ah,” Iz chastises.

“That when you weren't at the table we would all...” Ze repeats, frowning. “Fuck off and leave you alone.”

“Exactly,” says Iz with an acidic smile. “Am I at the table now, Ze?”

“No, your majesty,” says Ze, defeated. “You're not.”

“So do you know what to do now then?” she asks.

“I do, your majesty,” says Ze.

©  a d a m   b y f i e l d , not to be reproduced in any form without written permission