The Resistance

‘A life where people have children and mess and they don’t bury their heads in the sand and ignore what’s going on around them . . .’
    ‘You will regret this,’ his grandfather whispered angrily as he passed him. ‘Anna too.’
    ‘You don’t even know where Anna is,’ Peter shot back. ‘You should look for the Surpluses, too, while you’re at it.’ He tried to push the guards off, but they were too strong for him; a heavy hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him as they dragged him towards the side of the lobby.
    His grandfather’s face crumpled with confusion; Peter shot him a triumphant parting glance as he was pulled away.
    ‘Wait! Peter! What was that about breeding farms?’ a journalist shouted, jumping to his feet.
    Another stood up. ‘Mr Pincent,’ he called out, ‘is it true that Surpluses are being tortured to make Longevity+? Do you have anything to say about your grandson’s accusations?’
    Richard looked around, thinking quickly. Peter was struggling violently with his guards; more and more journalists were standing up, shouting their questions.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he called out, raising his hands to calm them. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please, a moment.’
    The noise level reduced slightly; some of the journalists sat down.
    ‘As you know,’ Richard continued, his eyes moving beadily around the room, ‘my grandson Peter started out life as a Surplus, brainwashed by the Underground’s pernicious members, moulded into a dangerous and criminal mind. His mother was also a criminal, and perhaps that should have been a warning to me. I had hoped very much that by employing him here, by giving him the best chances available, he might be rehabilitated.’ He shook his head. ‘Sadly, I think that today has shown that rehabilitation is simply impossible. It is evident to me now that Surpluses are not able to adapt into our civilised society, that they can’t grasp the opportunities that we offer them. We want what’s best for them, ladies and gentlemen, but that doesn’t mean they want what’s best for themselves . . .’
    ‘Are you saying that Surpluses shouldn’t be made Legal?’ a journalist shouted out. ‘Are you saying your grandson shouldn’t be allowed his freedom?’
    ‘I’m saying,’ Richard said levelly, ‘that perhaps we need to review the Surplus Act. I’m saying that what Peter has said today is full of lies, full of misinformation. He knows nothing of the workings of Pincent Pharma, or of the development of Longevity+. I’m saying that I apologise for his outburst. I should have realised how completely the Underground had brainwashed him; should have anticipated that he might try to sabotage this important event.’
    There was a murmuring on the floor, a few nods of agreement. Then the murmuring became more vocal as the journalists began to turn to the back of the lobby. Frowning, Richard Pincent noticed someone moving at the back of the room. Then he heard a gasp, more gasps, and someone shouting, ‘He’s got a gun.’ It was only then that he saw the youth. At first he thought that a guard was holding him, then he realised that it was the boy who was pressing something into the guard’s back and dragging him to the side of the room.
    ‘Another Surplus,’ he said quickly, his voice faltering now, his eyes wide with fear, with shock. ‘People, this is a mounting crisis. We must find a way to deal with these criminal youths.’
    ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Jude said angrily, pushing the guard ahead of him and holding the gun out where everyone could see it. ‘Only I’m afraid I’m not a Surplus. Nor’s Peter. So you can’t harvest our cells to make your Longevity drugs. Or is it only girl Surpluses you can use?’
    The room hushed; Richard looked at the boy in alarm. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said icily. ‘Guards, do something. Restrain this boy.’
    ‘Anyone comes near me and this guard dies,’ Jude shouted. ‘I work for the Underground. I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.’
    ‘You think I care if you kill a guard? They’re ten a penny,’ Richard said angrily, then blanched slightly as he noticed all the guards in the room staring at him, their eyes full of shock and resentment.
    ‘What if I kill you?’ Jude said calmly. ‘What will you do then? Or what about if I don’t kill you? What about if I tell you instead that footage from Unit X is on tape? That