Faceless

Setting a “jurisdiction age” was one of the many changes imposed by the New Order for Peace and Unification. Not coincidentally, it corresponded with population control measures. There were rumors that a special jurisdiction age would be set at a lower age. This had its own dark implications

Matt was in violation of at least one, if not more, of the population control edicts. He knew he had failed to render himself sterile, as the lottery required. The law provided it be done at no cost to the patient, and absolved the parents of liability or responsibility in the matter. In other words, he had no excuse to not have fulfilled the requirement of the law, and he alone would face the consequence.

Passing through the alley, Matt overturned trash bins, spilling refuse into the street (violating local ordinances) in an attempt to slow or stall his pursuers. He hoped it would have an effect on the one chasing him on the ground, but wondered how he would deal with the figure on the roofs, who seemed to be following him as well.

“Happy flippin' birthday to me,” Matt mumbled as he emptied the contents of another bin into the road.

Chasing him through the streets was a member of a group of enforcers, called Sentinels. Built for power and speed, they were nearly impossible to evade, or successfully resist. Individual Sentinels had been witnessed to successfully defeat multiple opponents at a time.

The obstructions being thrown into the path of the Sentinel had only a slight impact on its progress. The thing was able to dodge, avoid, or leap over the objects planted against it.

The Sentinel in pursuit of Matt moved faster than what a typical human would be able. It would have eventually reached Matt. The fact that Matt turned a corner and encountered a fence, only hastened the inevitable.

“Subject Matthew Cross, you are cornered. Halt or face consequences.”

The chain link fenced towered over Matt and his pursuer at 5 meters, but Matt had not bothered to check or estimate before he leaped and started scaling the fence. He didn't have time to consider how he would approach the razor wire at the top of the fence, before two pegs embedded in his back and sent several thousand volts coursing through his body. After a short burst, Matt released his grip from the fence and dropped heavily to the pavement.

For a few moments, Matt wasn't sure what was happening. When he came to, a taller person was standing over him. Matt panicked slightly and tried to scramble to his feet. Much to his surprise, the other person helped him. “Who are you, and what do you want?” Matt demanded, and tried to assume a fighting ready stance.

The other person held a finger to his mouth, then discreetly responded. “Quiet, please.” He pointed to the ground, where the Sentinel lay in pieces. “He was chasing you?”

Matt looked at the now defunct Sentinel. The bloody mess he expected was absent. “Yeah,” he responded. “What happened?” There were many more questions, but that was the only one Matt could express effectively.

The stranger sensed the questions. “The Sentinels were never human, at least not after becoming Sentinels. I just knocked this one out of commission. I also permanently disabled your CHIP, so you're not broadcasting anymore, either.”

Matt felt his forehead. “Thanks.” CHIP was the designation of a physical microchip that the laws required be implanted at the front of everyone's skull. The procedure was done at birth. The designation CHIP stood for Computer Hardware Interface Protocol; it was designed to perform many functions, the most basic of which was allowing the person to be tracked at all times. A broadcasting CHIP would give the health status and whereabouts of an individual. Additionally, a Neural Interface Program captured and stored everything an individual saw, heard, did, and said. Parents were given full access to their children's NIP until they reached the age of majority. Prosecutors and courts were allowed access to the stored information as well, when someone stood accused of a crime. The processes and functions were sold as safety measures, but edicts put them into the law.

“You're welcome.” The stranger turned watchfully, then asked, “What are your plans?”

Matt was bewildered. “I – I don't know, actually. I just wanted to escape the Sentinel.”

“Well then,” the stranger said, “that's done. There weren't any others, so you're clear now. I suggest, though, that you move out.” With that, the stranger turned and quickly, but quietly walked away.

§

Matt arrived at his parents' house later that night. New locks were on the door and an envelope was taped to it. He opened the envelope and read the note inside. His father had written a hasty note explaining that Matt could no longer stay at the house. He also wrote that Matt should take everything he needed out of the garage and shed, and leave; then wished him luck. Judging by handwriting, the letter had been hard to write. It contained the unblemished truth: Matt's parents could no longer help him.

Matt kept the note and entered the shed. Everything there, save for a few household gardening tools, was actually his. A bicycle stood on the side, and a rucksack was on a short stand in the back corner. The sack was made of sturdy canvas and leather. Inside, it held a hatchet, first aid supplies, some dried meals, and camping tools. Matt added a couple of field guides for reference, and some wool blankets, then closed the top. He tied his tent pack to one side of the sack, then secured water bottles on the other side. Before leaving, he took a machete that was in the supplies – just in case.

§

Matt was no stranger to what he was about to do. He had spent most of his childhood in the outdoors, and knew the variety of things he could use for shelter, food, and drink. Growing up, he discovered his love for the outdoors and using nature to feed him. His father helped him and taught him; his mother supported him. By the time he was 10, he was spending supervised weekends, usually with friends, camped outside in the woods. When he was 13, he was spending unsupervised weekends, and sometimes longer, outside. Each year after that, he challenged himself to spend longer periods between having to come home and resupply. The last two summers, he had successfully passed the entire summer outdoors, without resupplying. Yet all the time, the shed stood open to him; the contents entirely his.

This time, however, as he departed, he realized he would not be able to return. His parents would not help the Sentinels, but the Sentinels would be watching for him. This visit, risky as it was, allowed him to gather equipment to gain distance and start his journey with supplies. Matt looked, with some unqualified hope, at the window facing the shed. Seeing nobody, he frowned. He realized that his parents couldn't watch for him; if they saw him, their CHIP would record it and the time they saw him could be used to track him.

Matt used the bicycle briefly, just long enough and usually through lightly traveled roads and paths, to gain as much headway as he could without leaving a physical trace of his passing. He left his city, passing through another, until he passed through a town he knew that was bordered on one side by a vast wooded area. When he grew close enough to his destination, he disassembled the bicycle and left the parts separated by placing them in different junk piles, in different areas. Then he approached the wooded area on the town's border.

Trekking through the woods, Matt tried to remember and enjoy the environment as he had when he was younger. It was difficult at first, since he was focused entirely on not leaving tracks to follow, until he was far enough into the woods, that he could no longer see the edge of the town. He continued further away for days, once again using the environment to feed and shelter himself, while carefully concealing his presence.

Days passed to weeks, which passed to months. Matt was carefully enjoying his living situation. He had been careful to minimize his impact, while securing a form of lodging for the winter. He devised a way to store food, and his lodging was located so that when winter snows arrived, he would be able move between his food and lodging without making tracks. After successfully setting everything, he hunkered down for the winter.

§

After a successful winter, and allowing time for the spring melt to dry, Matt emerged and began wandering again in the woods. He purposely continued to travel in a direction away from civilization. Since the stranger had broken his CHIP, there was no risk of being tracked by Sentinels. However, entering populated areas may still be unwise, since resident Sentinels might still be watching.

People who broke laws, and criminals, generally weren't able to escape. When a person was wanted, their information was entered into the Sentinel network. Since Sentinels were everywhere, there was no need to deploy; the local Sentinels would engage a search and capture mission, while those in surrounding areas would know to capture on sight. Even without the CHIP, if he was seen, he could possibly be identified and apprehended.

Most minor infractions were actually handled in a passive manner. That was, in fact, how Matt's encounter had began. No Sentinel had been actively searching for him when he encountered one; they had simply been instructed to detain him on sight, to remedy his non-compliance. Matt was much more interested in keeping his bits than being in compliance with what he saw as an excessive measure.

As Matt continued through the woods, he noticed a small spot that was occupied entirely by edible vegetable plants. They were yet immature, but he recognized them. After finding a few such plots, he thought it rather fortuitous and began to make plans for the upcoming seasons, to maintain the area.

Weeks later, as the plants were showing signs of production, Matt examined them. They were promising and healthy. He tended them as well, but found that very little maintenance was required. Even after leaving the patches for weeks at a time, he found that there were few weeds.

He considered the rarity and unique trait of having domestic plants perform so well in the wild. He had just considered the notion that they had not been abandoned when he heard someone behind him. “Hands up. Don't make any sudden moves.”

Matt complied, slowly lifting his arms as he contained the sharp twinge of panic. The voice lacked the robotic twang of a Sentinel. Whoever found him, was human. One thing about the Sentinels, was their predictability. While he was chased by them, Matt knew that they wouldn't kill him unless he put someone else in direct danger. Now he was dealing with humans, and he didn't have the same reassurance.

“Turn around, slowly.”

Matt swallowed hard. His fear prevented him from talking, and he turned, haltingly. Three people were behind him. The one at the center wore a dark cloak, with a hood which the wearer had drawn over the head. Mat couldn't distinguish any facial features. A dark gloved hand gripped the hilt of a long sword. One of the other individuals stood on either side of the first one. Each of them wore a dark, yet lightweight and loose fitting uniform. Their faces were covered by white masks.

“Who are you?” The figure in the center demanded, yet politely. This voice was different from the other one Matt had heard. It was higher pitched, yet had no lack of authority.

“Matt. Matt Cross.”

“What are you doing here?”

Matt tried to think of an answer that wouldn't expose him. After some hesitation, he finally answered. “Hi – hiking.”

The strangers stood silently for a few moments. The one in the center still gripped the handle of the weapon in hand. “Hiking, you say.” The individual paused. “Where are you from?”

Hoping to gain an advantage, Matt tried to avoid answering. “I'd rather not say.”

Another few moments passed. “Your hike seems to be one of a rather long term effort. You've been observed passing through this place multiple times.”

Matt grimaced. He felt his ears flush as he realized these people knew more than they indicated. “What do you want?” The question conveyed both respect, and a little bit of anxiety.

“Answers. Honest answers,” the figure emphasized. “Why are you here? Where are you from? Who sent you?”

Matt chose the questions he answered carefully. “Nobody sent me. I'm here because I was wandering and found some food plants. I thought it was convenient.”

“Where are you from?” The questioner didn't miss the omission, and changed the grip on the weapon.

Matt heard the firm tone, and didn't want to argue. Encouraging his decision to cooperate was that he also noticed the change in grip. “The – the city.”

“The city? On the run, then.” The armed person looked down slightly. “Explain.”

Matt sighed. There was no escape. “I, I have … that is to say, I didn't have a required operation. You know, bad lottery outcome.”

“Miss,” one of the black uniformed individuals spoke, “he's not broadcasting.”

“Oh? Scan him.” The order from the figure in the center was calm. The other two people approached Matt while she continued. “Mr. Cross, do not resist. No harm will come to you.”

One of the others took a device from a pocket, and held it to Matt's forehead for a few moments. He removed it and looked at the information. “His CHIP is broken. He can't be tracked.”

“I see. Mr. Cross, you may lower your hands.”

Matt gladly, yet cautiously, obeyed. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Cross,” the cloaked person spoke again, “do you seek refuge?”

“Y – yes,” he admitted.

“Very well.” she finally released the handle of the weapon. “Come with us.”

Matt followed them through the forest. They walked for half an hour, and met with another group dressed in a similar fashion. Mat guessed that the people who wore hooded cloaks were some set of leader. The guess seemed logical when the one escorting him spoke to the one they met. “We found the intruder,” she said. “He states his name is Matt Cross. His CHIP is broken and is not broadcasting. He is in violation of population control edicts. He stated he is from the city and nobody sent him.”

“I see,” the new cloaked person stated. “Mr. Cross, how is it that your CHIP is damaged and not functioning?”

Matt hesitated. The two people in cloaks both had weapons. The escorts with the new person were also armed. “I want a lawyer,” he stated.

“That request can't be granted. I can promise you that so long as you are not a threat, nobody will touch you. If you don't answer truthfully, we have to treat you as a threat.” There was a mild note of amusement to the first sentence; the rest of the statement wasn't a threat, but simply a plain statement of fact.

Matt sighed. “Fine. I was running from a Sentinel. Someone wearing a long coat like you are, cut it to pieces. He said he broke the CHIP.”

The two long coated individuals appeared to look at each other, then the second one turned to Matt. “Did this person identify himself, or give you directions?”

“No.”

The group which had escorted Matt approached the new group. One of the black uniformed individuals was left to watch him. The rest spoke in low tones among themselves, so Matt couldn't hear or discern what they said. All he could tell for certain was that the discussion likely concerned him.

When they separated, the second cloaked person spoke. “Mr. Cross, you will be welcome as a guest. I will guide you to the place you may live, if you wish.”

§

Mat wintered as a guest. His lodgings were not extravagant; it was furnished well enough for comfort, as it had a bed, a table, and chair, as well as a lounging chair. An icebox allowed him some cold storage, and a camping stove let him heat or re-heat items as needed. Still, it was luxurious compared to how he had spent the previous winter.

As a guest, he was not neglected. He was given instructions to not visit the food crops scattered through the woods. As different crops were harvested, he was given supplies that had been prepared for storage either by having been frozen or processed in jars. Through the winter, and into spring, he was given supplies on a regular basis.

When spring arrived, after the weather warmed and melted the snow, Matt's visitor included a leader. “Come with us,” the masked person, also wearing a cloak, invited.

Once again, Matt was led through the woods by masked figures. They walked quietly for a short time. “How was your winter?” the lead figure asked. “Was it well? Were you supplied and comfortable?”

“Yes,” Matt answered. “Well supplied, thank you.”

“Good. We try to make our guests comfortable.”

“Who are you?” Matt had asked the question several times, not from lacking gratitude, but from want of knowledge. The most he had ever been told was that those who he spoke with were “protectors of the community,” but that answer raised even more questions.

“You may have some answers, soon.”

Matt was brought before a small assembly of more masked individuals. His escort joined and spoke briefly with the others. When they finished, one of them spoke. “Mr. Cross.”

Matt acknowledged the greeting. “Yes.”

The same person spoke again. “It is our understanding that you were comfortable and and satisfied during the winter as our guest, correct?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“You came here accidentally with a broken CHIP and in flight from Sentinels. Do you wish to return to the city from which you fled?”

“No,” he answered.

“Why not?”

Mat hadn't really considered this before. He knew he didn't want to have the operation to be sterilized. He wanted to be friends with and form relationships with people based on his and their preferences, not their presence in the gene pool. To him, it seemed wrong to even have an edict in place that limited if an individual would ever be able to have children. Further than that, was the solution if a family exceeded the allowable number of children: pregnancies were aborted.

He couldn't live in that kind of society. Granted, he would miss his parents and family, but he couldn't go back to them even if he had wanted. Finally he answered. “I can't go back, even if I wanted to. Too much is wrong, for me to want to return.”

The speaker nodded. “I see. You have your objections. It's understandable. Tell me, would you disclose our location, or existence, to others?”

“No.”

“I thought not,” the speaker sounded pleased. “We are a community of people who have fled the oppression of the Immortals. You have run away from the same, correct?”

“Right.” The Sentinels were merely the eyes and ears of the Immortals, in addition to being their enforcers.

“You committed no real crimes; that is no crimes which did harm against a person or their property?”

“Right. I just lost the lottery to keep my parts.”

There was a moment of thoughtful hesitation. “Mr. Cross, would you like to be a part of this community?”

“Community?” Matt had suspected there was something more than these masked people running about, but he couldn't imagine what there would be.

“Those who you have seen so far are only the Faceless – the protectors of a larger, secret community of people. We, the Faceless, hide our identities to protect what we hold dear. The community has people like you. They have not done any harm. Like you, they escaped pursuit of Sentinels and had their CHIP disabled. Like you, the members of the community want to live in peace, respecting others, without the undue burden placed upon the remainder of society.”

Matt considered. If he accepted the offer, he would no longer have to run. He could possibly live the rest of his life in relative peace. “Thank you for the offer. I can't pay you, though.”

The speaker nodded, chuckling slightly. “We require no payment but participation.” Matt looked skeptical, and the speaker continued. “Everyone who is a member, has a job. This job is some form of contribution to maintaining the community. The job given, is based on what we feel is the best fit for the person based on their abilities and what they would like.”

“What sort of jobs do you mean?” Matt had no desire to become a lackey for any criminal organization.

“Planting, cleaning, maintenance, harvest, policing, and protection, for example. We seek only to exist with minimum impact.”

“Alright,” Matt agreed after brief consideration, “I'm in.”

§

When Matt joined the community, he was led to a common area, introduced to the others, and shown his home. Much to his relief, nobody wore masks. While he had been treated well, the fact he couldn't see the faces of those addressing him previously had been unnerving.

He found himself getting along rather well with most everyone. He was quickly tasked with tending the outside garden areas. The work required being familiar with moving quietly about the woods without leaving a trace. Two years later he was asked, and agreed, to become one of the Faceless.

Matt no longer had to run. This community had given him rest from the Sentinels. In this duty, he considered it a way to thank them forgiving him that peace and also for giving him new friends. In a way, it became his family. More importantly, he considered the pledge to be a labor of love. To show his affection for the community, he would protect it to the best of his ability.