Defenestrate The Masses
Mechanic Mouthpiece
The Volume, “Abandoning the Fight”, sat before them on a table.
“You see, my friend, I believe I am cursed to restore economic, moral and social stability. Bring a fresh shine to this City. Make it sparkle. Clean the mess away. You know, mess like you? Don’t get me wrong, I know what I do is outside the law, outside the remits of those in charge. But I get the job done, see? There is nothing in any of these books here in the Law Library that can teach me anything I haven’t gained a diploma in simply by doing. Ah, the age old debate between academia and vocational training. I prefer to look at myself as an enemy of the wrong. It’s why I chose the name, Anathema. No one wants to see me, but they soon learn. As will you, my friend.”
Edward River sat opposite Anathema, not of his own volition. He was bound to the chair, the long attempted Rook suppressor - the tranquilliser Anathema carried with him - had worked. Edward was a captive audience for a mad man’s rant. Edward didn’t reply. He couldn’t. the tranquilliser had taken his power of speech.
“It’s scum like you that rottens the world. It’s people like you who fly about, taking good people from their work, stopping progress. Like, what exactly is it with this black bird persona? What is it you are trying to achieve? If it is to infuriate me, trust me its working. No, you see, people like you need culling. Take out the scum and leave the cream.” Despite his predicament, and the worst words of the mad man, the spluttering nonsense was this thing about the bird persona. What did he mean? Edward River grunted his disapproval, “You can protest all you like, my friend, but your wings need to be clipped. And this book? You know you can’t have this book. The secrets it reveals, the passage it details. They are not yours. They are for Daedalus Devereaux. He is the true heir to the fortune. You are a mock-up. You are a shadow. You are made from scraps of the foolish. Taking you out will be a blessing for this world. You know, I could say you are more of an anathema than I am?”
“What mean bird?” forced Edward from his slackened muscles, three monosyllabic words all he could muster.
“You mean you don’t know? How could you not? You are this beast they call the Rook. Seriously? Well I suppose you are entitled to know why you die, at least.”
Edward River’s mind reeled. What did he mean that he was the Rook? How could that be, and he not know? That said, things did begin to land into place. The blackouts? They occurred about the time the bird was seen flying. The stories Jude Ennis told, veiled in allegory as they were, they argued for the right side of right, often told by Jude that the Rook would come to land somewhere in the Wedge, like this was its roost, how Jude would tell the stories with a nod and a wink to Edward himself, abstract words that suggested knowledge of the Rooks origin. Why hadn’t Jude told him? Perhaps he thought Edward already knew and the nods and winks were to suggest Jude Ennis would keep his secret, his role in the City, lest Edward be found and taken again. In fact many in the Wedge would make vagaries to the same tune Jude played. It was with the promise of the Rook’s antics that prospered the sullen and the downtrodden - the hope for the world. How could Edward deny this, if it gave so much honour and pleasure, hope and dignity to those without? The Rook was part of the City, part of its structure now. It was, as it seemed, part of Edward also. This must have been what Conrad Miller had been pointing at. His grand plan, his master plan. His belief in the saviour of the world. It was Edward River.
Faith had to be repaid. Conrad gave himself for this, why should or could Edward ignore it and leave it alone, refuse his role? He couldn’t, not anymore. Conrad Miller had a plan for him. So, with more vigour, he would explore and discover exactly what it was Conrad had in mind for this creation, this Edward - this Rook. In that moment, Edward River became the City’s property. He had a purpose. A smile crept on his face, even during the tirade of a mad, mad man, “I am going to take this Volume with me, my friend, and both the beast and man will die with one blow.”
The muscle strength returned to Edward’s mouth, perhaps from the draining of the tranquilliser, or perhaps because of the adrenaline that now coursed through Edward’s body. He could feel a low rumble in his feet. He now knew what that meant, “Take it. I already read it. I waited for you, you know. Waited to see what you would do this time. You know what they say, third times a charm?” Then the world turned to blackness, like a mist had descended over Edward’s eyes.
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