Originally posted in the “Press” online Anthology, 2023
Nothing Ever Happens In Gardenport
There’s a fly on the camera at 212 Gardenport Street, suspended in place by a spider’s web. On-screen, it’s blown up to horrifying proportions, staring with its geometric eyes, and unaware that anyone is staring back.
“Gross!” says Operator Two. His chair scrapes on the floor in his hurry to get away. In front of him are a hundred intricate hexagons, all rendered in perfect detail and captured on a million different pixels. A digital monument to man’s triumph over nature.
“Strike one,” says Operator One, as she inputs the data with a smirk. “D’you want me to add ‘intimidating a surveillance-officer’ to that list, too?”
“No,” Two says, as he sits down. “I ain’t scared of bugs.”
One shrugs, her finger poised over the necessary button on the wall behind them. “No-one would know it was you.”
“But I’d have to do all the datawork,” Two snaps, and turns his attention back to the screen.
“Eh, I’m further from retirement than you’d think.” One folds her arms and leans back in her seat. “Next!” she shouts, and the feed flicks to another address: 214 Gardenport Street. Save for the spider’s web, the interior is almost identical.
“What?” Two bounces his leg as he talks. “We’re not gonna watch the last one any longer? They already got an infraction forty-seven-”
“That’s the problem with infraction forty-seven,” One says. “You can’t see shit.” She peers at the feed for a moment longer, then barks out another “Next!”
216 Gardenport shows a light-blue room laden with bookshelves, each one filled with books. One whistles. “At least these people know how to dust,” she says, though her tone is not as charitable as her words. “Look at all those Printies. All spotless, too.”
“Can’t blame ‘em. Must be worth a few,” Two says. His hand twitches. The feed continues running silently. “Should we… Move on?” He glances across at One, whose face is bathed in the cool light of the screen. She doesn’t answer.
“Um. Next?” Two murmurs.
The image remains as it is, drifting across rows and rows of books, all sitting there undisturbed. Several emerald green tomes lie to the left of the screen, with faded gold writing on the spines that Two can't quite make out.
“Next. Next?” he tries again.
At last, One tears her eyes away from it. “You’re not keyed into the voice-rec yet,” she grunts. “Next.”
The screen flickers, and Two barely glances at it. “So– when do I get keyed in?”
“When you pass basic training- stop jumping at insects, and somesuch.” She cracks a smile. “Next. You know, it’s funny. There’s that expression, ‘wouldn’t you like to be a fly on the wall’, but having a fly on the lens is no benefit.” She chuckles at her own joke.
Two leans back in his seat, his foot tapping at the floor. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s not their fault the fly got caught.”
“In a spider’s web?” She rolls her eyes. “They should have known better than to leave it up. Next.”
“I’m just saying, spiders move quickly.”
“Uh-huh.” She watches him from the corner of her eye. “Probably creep you out, too.”
“That’s not the point,” he snaps. “They can make webs quickly, too. They probably didn’t see it.”
“Not my problem. Next.”
The next room is depressingly bare: once-white walls coated with with rapidly yellowing paint, and a single, threadbare sofa. There’s a shelf on the wall which contains a single solitary tome: dark green with gold lettering.
Two drums his fingers on the table.
“You bored?” One asks. “Next.”
“No.”
She sighs. “You ever hear about the Twelve-Five Ambush?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, it’s like that. People can cover up a lot of shit if they just neglect to sweep the corners of the room. Somewhere down the line, some soft-hearted Surveilly didn’t report a camera obstruction, and then…” Her voice tightens. “The ambush happened.”
Two frowns.
“Next.”
A couple more rooms roll by, some of them occupied, many of them not. Two knows many people are probably at work by now, and he wonders just how many of these empty rooms belong to surveillance officers like themselves. Enough of them resemble his own apartment- barren and underfurnished- that his imagination begins to run away with him. Perhaps One dwells somewhere nearby- though he has no idea how unusual it would be for a Surveilly to be assigned to their own house. Would it even be possible?
He glances at One, who's watching the screen with an expression which is almost glazed-over.
“So, what happened to the soft-hearted Surveilly?” Two murmurs, breaking the silence.
One shrugs. “Probably had their pension confiscated.”
“That’s it?”
She grits her teeth. “We’re not easy to train.”
“Doesn’t seem that hard,” he mutters.
“What was that?”
“I’m just saying. Twelve-Five got an officer killed.”
“And seven civilians.”
“… Yeah.” He looks at the crim-log from tonight. “And infraction Forty-Seven lands people in jail.”
“Well, going no-penny’s a death sentence.”
“I don’t see how. The ambush happened years ago. That's enough time to build it back up.”
“Not long enough.” One murmurs. “Next.”
As they lapse into silence, the pale green light of the monitor washes over them. The screen cycles through a large house, a cosy conservatory, and a greenhouse filled with potted plants: doubtlessly covered in bugs which, fortunately for the owners, were nowhere near the lens of the camera.
“Next.”
Two cats fight on a lawn outside. One reaches over and actually turns the volume on for that, gauging Two’s reaction as his hands tap against his thigh. He watches the screen in confusion as the cats howl at one another, but the fight is short lived.
One presses a button on the monitor and leans back in her seat. “Next.”
A group of people gather in an alleyway, dressed in dark clothes and rucksacks. Their faces are turned downwards, angled away from the cameras, and Two leans forwards in his seat. The figures are all wearing hoods, and their features are difficult to make out, but-
“Next,” One drawls, sounding bored.
“What?” Two leaps to his feet. “You spent longer on the cats!”
Her mouth twitches. “Take it upstairs, if you like.”
He considers this, and traipses back to his seat. “Nah. Then you’ll tell them about the fly.”
She barks out a laugh. “I’m going to tell them about it anyway.”
“Why?”
“’Cos you’re soft, that’s why. I saw a mugging, my first day.”
“Well, I might’ve been about to see one!”
“That’s the spirit,” One says. “But, you should know, nothing ever happens in Gardenport. That’s why they put me here.”
“I got it,” he shrugs.
She watches the screen for a moment and then stretches obnoxiously, taking up most of the space in the cramped booth. Her hand bumps into the wall behind them. Two reaches out as if to swat her away, but pulls back at the last second, and accidentally catches a lock of her silver hair in his palm. His eyes widen, but she barely seems to notice, and rises in the same motion.
“’M going to vape,” she says. “You know the drill.”
He stares at her. “How am I supposed to-?”
“Use the board,” she nods. “They do still teach you how to do that, right?”
He pouts. “Yes.” Still, he stares at the keyboard in consternation.
“Right arrow key,” she prompts him.
“Oh,” he says, barely audible. “Right.”
She lingers in the doorway for a moment as he flicks back through a couple feeds, and stares at him.
“That’s the left arrow.”
He glances up. “I’m trying to find the mugging.”
She rolls her eyes as she zips up her coat. “Don’t flick back too far. You have a quota.”
“I know.”
“One more thing. If you gotta leave, don’t forget your keycard.” She holds it up, but he doesn’t turn around. “My last trainee got locked out.”
The screen flicks back to the greenhouse, and Two swears.
“You went back too far.”
“I know.”
With a raised eyebrow, One slips out of the door.
He continues watching the monitors for a while, flicking through them with purpose as it flies through each one, none of which he recognises. He scowls, and moves back and forth quickly, his brow furrowing.
“Where’d it go?” He mutters under his breath. He flicks through each camera in order, all the way back to 212 Gardenport street then forwards, but he never sees the alleyway again.
He’s barely aware of how much time passes, and he wonders only fleetingly how long it’s been since the old woman left him.
At long last, the door opens, and he gestures over his shoulder as he taps at the keys. “There you are. Something really whack is happenin-”
“Come with me,” says a gruff voice.
He turns. A security guard is standing there, stony-faced, and Two breaks into a smile. “Excellent. I didn’t even have to report it.” He points to the screen. “There’s a camera feed missing, one of the alleyways down the back of Gardenport street.”
“Come with me,” the guard repeats.
Two frowns, and clambers to his feet. The guard gives him a stern expression he isn’t quite sure he likes.
When he reaches for his keycard, it isn’t there.
*
The next morning, One sits down at her desk, and peers at the new operator beside her. “Oh, hello,” she says, abruptly. “You’re new. What happened to the other guy?”
“Yes,” Three says, slowly. “Didn’t you hear?” Her eyes dart around. “There was a break-in at 216 Gardenport street last night.”
She stares at her. “What are you talking about, child?”
“I mean, the guy who had this job before me blew it. His keycard pinged every entryway down Southside then back here again. They found him just sitting here last night, like nothing was up.”
“Well… My, I must say, I’m surprised. I suppose he must have seen all those Printies and got overexcited.” She sighs. “I hope they don’t go too hard on him. Going no-penny’s a death sentence, after all.”
Three nods slowly, and watches her face carefully. She doesn’t notice as the camera flicks past an under-furnished room with white walls, a threadbare sofa, and a single shelf stacked to the ceiling with green-and-gold hardback books.
“Next,” One says, softly.
A spider is building a web around the camera with a speed which is almost dizzying. Its face is blown up to overly-detailed proportions, all eight of its eyes glistening in the light, as it stares into the camera with a too-knowing gaze, as if it’s aware that someone is staring back.
Three cringes, and One laughs. “Infraction forty-seven. We can even add ‘intimidating a surveillance officer’ to that list, too.”
Three stares at her, and One breaks into a grin. “I’m only kidding.”
They continue in this way, the camera flicking through several more buildings as Three marks down infraction after infraction. She seems to instinctively know what she’s looking for, and One suppresses a smile. By the end of the training session, she offers Three a handshake.
“Congratulations. I suppose I’d better get you keyed into the voice-rec software. You’ll be training someone else up soon enough.” She smiles. “I’m closer to retirement than you think.”
oh boy, Ray Ray, please, if you could write 131: “Lets run away together.” <3
nearly 200 writing prompts // feel free to reblog Viktuuri - “Let’s run away together”@belovedyuuri
TW: major character death (limited description)
Standing against the railing, he could see the brave souls who marched against the enemy risking their very life. He longed to be able to help his people, to fight for their lives as they fought for his. Yet he was forced to remain in his prison. To be confined to his own personal hell which was coated beautifully with luxuries and all his wishes granted. A beautiful castle, but with no exits.
Groaning, he leaned over, using the parapet to spin his body towards the wall. Slumping against it, he slowly slid down, being careful as he moved. Gazing outside, his eyes were attracted to the rising sun, giving life, lighting the way for the determined soldiers to give their lives up for a cause that meant more to the people behind it then themselves. Yet they continued, knowing the repercussions, not just to themselves but their lives would be forever altered.
He was completely focussed on the brightening sky, watching as blips of yellow and orange soon seemed to spread filling bits of pink in as the sun almost seemed to rise from the horizon. Yet as he sat there his vision was suddenly filled with a ball of fur that seemed determined to press its nosy face into his chest. Laughing happily his hand came up to pet the excitable dog on the head, ruffling the soft fur there.
Though he’d always miss his own dog, she was beautiful and hugging her was something he’d never be against. Burying is face in her fur, he kept scratching lightly as his mind wandered further then before. To when he could have gone to battle. When he could have joined in on protecting those he cared for.
But most importantly, joining in on saving the one he loved the most. If he closed his eyes he could almost see him. He could just envision his graceful gait as he walked down the field, stopping to get on his horse. Riding in front of his soldiers, his elite battalion, that he was leading to battle. If he focused he could even visualize the soldier’s march into battle with their captain charging in the front on his beloved horse. Tightly braided hair flowed in the air, almost dancing alongside the wind as both raced towards the fight.
But the memory he wanted to cherish no matter what was the one from the previous night. He pulled the dog even closer into his arms, reliving last night’s beautiful encounters. Kisses that had started from his cheeks trailing lower down his body, their hands entertwined just as their legs were. But most of all, seeing the love shining in his own eyes reflected in the captain’s. Soft chuckles that had to be quickly shushed should a servant or someone discover them together.
As they had laid together in the bed, content for the moment, he had placed his head on the other’s chest, feeling his chest rise and lower as he breathed. Their heartbeats both elevated and in unison. He had blushed when he felt a soft kiss pressed into the crown of his head, but the soft whispered words pulled his head back up.
“Run away with me kotyonok. Let’s disappear into the shadows, be happy together.”
Flinching, he remembered how shocked he’d been when he heard those words, yet a small part of him had wanted to agree. But duty and honour had demanded he refuse, even though his heart longed to be free.
“No koibito I cannot do that to my country, nor can you. I may not be able to be there, but you must. But…you must come back.”
It wasn’t till two days later when the messengers had rushed back to the castle to report success in battle that they found their beloved prince laying against a balcony wall, his health having succumbed to the frigid cold of the land, and was only hampered by his severly low immunity his crutches forgotten beside him. He was buried with great show and pomp, being the prince of their kingdom, but what many didn’t realize was one remained behind after the funeral.
Wiping tears from his eyes, he brushed a silvery lock of hair from his face as he looked down at the grave. “I promised you I would come back and you broke your own Yuuri.” Taking the knife from his waist, he bent down and carved out his name into the grave below his lover’s. Painting over it with the traditional red colour, he slowly stepped back, tears streaming down his cheeks as he walked away. Never glancing back at the grave, yet never looking where he was going.
That was the last time anyone saw Captain Viktor Nikiforov, a revered warrior, and the people now knew, the love of Prince Yuuri Katsuki.
In Japan – When a married person dies before his or her spouse, the name of the spouse may also be engraved on the stone, with the letters painted red. After the death and the burial of the spouse the red ink is removed from the stone. It can be seen as a sign that they are waiting to follow their spouse into the grave. Source
