When Alaric was younger he was incompetent and that did not change by the time he turned 20. His physical and intellectual evaluations were above par, albeit he did not do anything with either. He did, however, receive credit from his psychiatrist, who called him the most challenging case he had seen. In fact, Alaric had undergone multiple temporal lobe washes, neither of which seemed to scratch the itch. Yet this day was different. April 24, 2352 marked his graduation from a six month program at a rehabilitation center. It was, of course, the best in the European United Nations. The son of the Chief War Strategist in the Province would not have gone to a retreat for addicts if it was not prestigious.
As he sauntered out of the large sterile building, he ran his hands through his black hair to slick it back in place. He was finally allowed to wear his own clothes and felt much better in his denim pants and cashmere black shirt; these clothes were handmade, and worth more than the average person’s housing stipend. He then flipped out his cell phone to order a car. Prior to his stay at rehab, Alaric had lost his driving privileges. The car he got for his 13th birthday was a hybrid vehicle. He started with a lock on manual so that he could only utilize the independent automation. The sleek convertible was only allowed to drive itself until he got his license (after two tries). Still, he somehow managed to drive it into the ocean when he was intoxicated.
His car picked him up within seconds and within minutes he was approaching London.
“Call dad,” he said with an already frustrated tone.
“What’s up Alaric,” the speaker replied.
“Am I still on drugs? Did I hallucinate calling your number? I want to speak to dad,” Alaric grumbled.
“Alright well I’m so incredibly sorry that you have to talk to your little brother. This must be so hard on you. Honestly, maybe turn the car around.”
“Okay it’s good to hear from you Amon. Where’s dad?” Alaric clenched his fist as he inquired.
“There’s kind of a crisis going on right now we are at The Point,” Amon relayed with a smug tone. Alaric hung up. He never really wanted to get into his dad’s line of work, but it still stung that Amon was being groomed to take over the coveted position. To be fair, Amon excelled in all battle training. At the age of 8 he could simulate spaceship flight routes seamlessly. At the age of 11 he had Norbert’s Code memorized like the back of his hand. That was the part that confused Alaric. He remembered a conversation he had with his dad before the incident. It was five years ago but he thought about it every day.
“You are not understanding what I am saying,” his dad had screamed at him.
“I am. I understand the premise,” Alaric tried to argue.
“There are no bombs left. We know the science and even the ones with the highest useful life were projected to decompose a century ago.”
“I’m not talking about the bombs I am talking about Western Asia. There is still anger. We bombed them.”
“That was almost four hundred years ago. They did not sign Norbert’s Code.”
“And you broke it.”
“What else were we supposed to do? Modern warfare is only efficient if it is accepted.”
“And they still do not accept it. They are trying to prove a point. They are denying automotive labor to prove a point. They are using their capitalist economy to make a point.”
“They are using their economy to justify low wages and unsafe working conditions. The European United Nations needs to do something. Blocking imports is not enough. The Americas are backing us.”
“But-”
“I am not going to say this again. You are going with a diplomacy council tomorrow and you are making peace. I do not care what it takes.” The next day Alaric had flown with his team to Japan, one of the only independent countries left in the world. But he was right: they were not over the past. As soon as his aircraft landed he was taken into custody. Every weapon of the European United Nations, as well as their allies, was incapable of flying in the atmosphere, per the technological constitutions in Norbert’s Code. The wealthiest Province on Earth did not have the military equipment for its own planet. Accordingly, it took three days to recover Alaric and some of his team. As the shootout occurred, 13 of his own people and thirty of his kidnappers were taken. Since then, most of the world has made an effort to restructure Japan.
As he sat in silence recounting the events, Alaric tried to use the coping strategies he had just learned, but there are certain things that cannot be trained. So he stopped at the store on his way home. He figured if he did hallucinogenic drugs he would not fall back into addiction, and bought a few new ones that he had not tried before, which he took upon returning to his penthouse. Gazing out the glass wall in the living room, he was in awe of the view ahead him. He learned in his history class that in the industrial era people could not see the stars in cities because of pollution. Tonight he had a hindered view of the stars as it had begun to rain, yet through a blurrier lens Alaric could see them blend alongside neon lights as the two worked in tandem to encircle the skyscrapers. Roads of many heights seemed like a web, connecting everyone and everything. Then Alaric fixated on the tallest building, the one his brother and father were at. It was simple in its design, aside from the top that boasted a giant dome, which was only visible from the reflection of the lights around. That dome, opaque to the outside, encompassed the best views in the city, as well as the most secretive proceedings of the Province. Alaric used to go there frequently. Taking a deep sigh, he almost turned around to go to bed until he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was something he had never seen in real life. He took a picture of it to scan what it was until it flew out of his vision. As he looked at the results, Alaric began to panic. It was an old military combat aircraft, one that was prohibited in the aviation constitution. He tried calling his dad, and even called Amon, neither of whom picked up. With no idea what to do, he sprinted to the elevator, and five seconds later as he dropped to the ground floor he had already sent 20 messages to family. He began to walk towards The Point, and broke out into a run as it rained harder. Finally, he got a call.
“I know,” his dad explained. “We are working on it”
“What are you going to do? How do you fix this?” Alaric yelled with panic in his voice.
“We will neutralize them. There may be fallout but we can.”
“What kind of fallout?”
“It will not be deadly and this never happened. There was an electrical accident. Do you understand?”
“What kind of fallout?”
The sky erupted. It boomed louder than enough Alaric had ever heard before. He looked up at the sky, eyes saturated with raindrops, and tried to make out what happened. Sparks of light descended through the storm, speckled with gold if you looked closely. Alaric knew no one would believe what he just witnessed. His credibility was low given his past and present state. But moreover, he understood that perhaps no one should.