Chapter 10: Jamar
Jamar’s feet practically danced down the hall. It was dinner time and he didn’t think a day could move that fast. Silas was slow at chess, but overall a good sport. He was quiet and he managed to pick up basic blocks and strikes with a memory that surprised Jamar. Silas might even be a bit of a challenge when they were done. Jamar could pick them. If he could pat his own back without looking awkward, he would.
The best part about his interaction with Silas was that the whole time Jamar had been the teacher. Silas obviously didn’t know anything. He spent half the time staring at the chessboard, as if he didn’t know what any of the pieces were even though Jamar had explained them. The Car had learned much from him and it felt great to be the one with knowledge and power. Silas had never once belittled him, made him feel stupid or challenged his authority. Yes, Silas would be perfect.
Jamar laughed out loud remembering the looks on Silas’ face as they played chess. Silas would scrunch his dark eyebrows when he concentrated in a way that made him look like a brown haired gibbon. If Jamar had been trying, he could have ended all their games sooner. There was no doubt which boy was superior. Then again, what did Jamar expect from a human without a medallion. Medallions were what separated the persons from the non-persons in the human species. Persons had value, as measured by their medallion’s metal. Non-persons had no value, except for what a person decided they had. In Silas’ case, he had some value because of what his father hoped to make from his e-mems or his children’s e-mems, but that was it.
The smell of roast beef drew Jamar right to the dining room, the scent helped because Jamar wasn’t sure which door was right when he first looked down the hallway. He grabbed the metal doorknob and twisted. Instead of the door opening, the handle turned to rust in his hands and crumpled to the floor. Jamar sighed and knocked three times. Once he was in charge he would switch out all the metal handles for hardened plastic. The frustration wasn’t worth the elegance. He would never have had this happen to him if it weren’t for a terrorist group during the Radiation Age who created paxis, a chemical that attacked steel and iron. Paxis would rust metal on the spot and millions of people were hurt, stranded or killed when automobiles, boats and airplanes crumbled around them. Some of the metal was saved from exposure and scientists found a glaze that protected the metal from corrosion, but the glaze didn’t always work. It wore off or wasn’t reapplied often enough to keep protecting it.
Jamar knocked and sighed again. He could smell the food and it was making him cranky. That one terrorist act made life so much more difficult. You could get stuck on the wrong side of a door and that wasn’t all. Travel took forever, defending against enemies was harder and technology slowed to a dribble. But between the erosion of 70% of the earth’s metal and the overuse of oil, new sources of energy had to be found and this had turned the Pelacroix family from average landowners to the number one energy producer of the country. In Jamar’s mind it was the only good that had come from the loss of metal and the old way of life.
Foxworth, Lemuel’s young Tirean aide, opened the door and saw that the other handle was missing.
“Have someone replace it,” Jamar said and he swept past the aide into the room.
Lemuel was already seated with a full plate waiting in front of him. Jamar quickened his steps and sat to the left of his father where another plate of food waited.
“I trust your day was satisfactory,” Lemuel said. He picked up his fork and Jamar followed suit.
“I had fun and the time went by faster than I thought.”
“Just remember the Car is not a friend. Don’t think of him that way and you should be fine.”
“I know.”
Lemuel slid over a small black controller. “I want you to carry this with you whenever the Car is around.”
“What is it?” Jamar picked it up. There were three buttons on it with small words written under each of the buttons. One had the word shock, the second had the word stop and the third had the word paralyze.
“It is a Carillian controller. If he gets out of line, you can use it to punish him. I suggest only using the first two buttons, the third is sometimes permanent.”
“Ok.” Jamar slipped the controller into his pocket and took a bite of his roast beef.
“So what did you do?”
“We played chess for most of it and I taught him some moves with the sword so he won’t be an idiot when I practice.”
“That’s fine, but you need to watch him. Cars are extremely tricky. They weren’t always the lowest class and it is wise to remember that. They know they have more emotions than they should, so they hide their emotions and push them down deep where they think we will not find them. They think they can act like us, but they can’t.”
“Cause we’re better, right?”
“We most certainly are. You don’t see loyalty and love among the Cars. They can’t make the same attachments to family that we can.”
Jamar smiled at Lemuel, but his father was absorbed by another file.
There was a knock on the door and Tymas entered.
“Sir, the men are ready for your debrief. We have locked down the wards for the night and are completely at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Tymas. I will be down shortly.”
Tymas nodded and started to exit.
“Oh, and I’d like you to accompany my son tomorrow when he takes the Car out.”
Tymas’ back stiffened, but he only said, “Yes, sir,” and left.
Jamar wondered if there was a way he could stick butter in the Faan’s boots or pine needles under his sheets. He’d be patient and wait for the perfect opportunity. The Faan wouldn’t know what hit him.
Lemuel pushed his chair back and left with an absent goodnight. Jamar didn’t respond. It didn’t matter, his father wouldn’t hear it. He sat there until one of the Ajak servants came in to clear the table.
With a sigh, Jamar went back upstairs. He scanned the books in his room for anything he hadn’t read yet. A history on Carillians caught his eye, he pulled it down and flipped through it. Most of the chapters contained information he already knew. Like how the Radiation Age changed some people to where they would have emotional outbursts. Carl E. Lyons, a rich and influential member of society, was the first patient to be diagnosed. He died five years later when he started a screaming match with hospital security. Then he ran through three walls and got a rusty water pipe stuck in his liver. At first Lyons and others like him were hospitalized, but when they realized the effects were permanent all the patients were removed to a holding zone in the west.
The book went on in detail about the first Carillian state and then how they tried to break away from the union because they felt they weren’t getting the proper representation. That is what started the war. Everyone was involved with it. Ajaks also wanted to break away and the Faans tried to stay out of it, but finally had to pick sides when the Carillian army reached the capital. The Tireans convinced the Faans to fight with them and the Carillian War was won.
Jamar tossed the book to the floor. He hoped Silas had some of his ancestors’ talent with fighting. It would be nice to have a challenge. Not too much of a challenge though.
Maybe he could get a packed lunch from the kitchen and they could explore some of the nearby woods. Since this was all his property, it would be fun to show Silas how much he owned. They could have an adventure.
Jamar leaned back in his bed and smiled. Tomorrow something big would happen. He was sure of it.