Season 05 - Episode 19

‘over the people’

Iz is standing on the highest platform on The Scapes, hands on the rusty railings, looking down and across. The opposite side of The Scapes is fuller than she has ever seen, every square inch of space packed thick with bodies. Every rickety metal platform, each set of sharp edged metal stairs, all the cobbled together walkways and bridges, all of it bolted and clinging to the bare brick wall and filled with eyes, looking at her.

She takes a small breath and hears it made huge by the thousands of speakers the council have set up, captured by the microphone they've pressed into her hand. People have come from every Scape in The Levels to hear her speak.

A few days earlier, the council wrote her a speech, actually wrote it out in text and put it in her hand. She laughed in their faces at the idea she could read and then nearly ended up killing them when they made her memorise it, repeating it to her over and over.

The people of The Scapes aren't following the plan, they said.

They're refusing to work with the Inners, they said.

You have to command them to do it, for their own good, they said.

And now the time has come. She must address her subjects and command them to obey. She must do it to save their lives. The words are there, at the back of her throat, carved in through repetition, just waiting to spring forth from her dry, cracked lips.

The general murmuring of the endless crowd is filling the enormous void that plunges from black above to black far below, between the opposite sides of The Scape. Iz closes her eyes for a second, takes another breath then raises her hand.

The silence that falls is absolute.

“People of The Scapes,” she says, a little too loud at first so that the speakers howl.

“I speak to you today, my loyal sub...” but the word sticks in her throat.

She can feel the council members shifting nervously behind her as she closes her eyes once more, screwing them up in a grimace this time.

The words are waiting. The council is waiting. The people are waiting.

“You know what?” she says then, opening her eyes. “These guys gave me a speech for you. Lots of words that all basically just boil down to, do as you're told. Well I say fuck that.”

A scattered handful of cheers drown quickly in the tense, confused silence.

“If you don't want to follow the Inners' plan,” she continues. “Don't.”

Panicked whispers swell behind her as confusion mutters through the crowd.

“We are The Scapes,” she says. “And we make our own decisions. We've never needed anyone to tell us what to do before and I don't see why we should now.”

A few more cheers arise and this time persist.

“Your Majesty!” comes a desperate voice from behind.

“It's true,” she continues, ignoring the voice. “That if we don't work with these Inners, then more Inners, other, stronger Inners, will come later to wipe us out and mighty as we are, they've a good chance of doing it. But it's up to each of us to decide for ourselves. If you choose to follow this plan then don't do it because some fucking Inner tells you to!”

Cheers and shouts of agreement race through the crowd, swelling beneath her.

“And definitely don't do it because these pricks say so,” she says, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “If you're going to follow this plan then choose it freely! Make it your own! Do it for the same reason we do everything else we do out here. To live! To survive! Unashamed and owing nobody anything!”

The crowd roars as one now, chanting her name over and over, joyous.

“No!” she cries, continuing firmly and fiercely until the chanting breaks down.

“Not that!” she says then. “Not any more. We don't need anyone to tell us what to do and we definitely don't need a fucking Queen! If we're going to sing, then how about this?”

In the sudden, total silence, Iz hears herself begin a new song, the words coming on their own, rising from deep inside her, from all her years of pain. Instantly the crowd take up the chant as if they've known it all their lives, tears on their faces, fists in the air. Thousands upon thousands of voices that seem to shake all of The Levels with their fury and their joy.

“We are The Scapes! The Scapes are we! We don't kneel! We are free!”

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