Gordon Trey's journal entry, February 14th 2032

Who knew valentines day would be the start of a war? Approximately 29 minutes ago, I received a video conference from Fillipe.

"Gordon, I have been informed you had a conference with Shing Ni-To of China. Why is this?" She had asked in that sharp but beautiful French accent

I knew she had known exactly why. I had been seeing whether anyone wanted help in the war. Yet they all seemed to reject the helping hand. Suit themselves. There was only one country coming out of this war.

I wouldn't say that in the conferences though. No one wanted to be told they were going to war.

But we all knew it subconsciously. Especially Fellipe as she stared at me sharply over the camera. The colourful image spread across my glass tablet, as sharp as the person on the other end, despite bad reception on her side.

I had calmly replied to her, "Fellipe, I have been having meetings for the past 2 months to ensure that everyone is safe in their countries. It is hardly a new establishment. And the fact that I pulled emperor Shing into the ordeal is to be expected."

Fellipe seems amused by my answer as she smirks softly. I try to ignore the way she smiled, as if she already owned the world.

"It is expected that you would speak to him but it was unexpected that he declined your extended hand. My sources show he has retrieved all trading with your country on top of the world. The Chinese troops are also exiting from their station around us here in Africa. If I were not opposing you in this war, I would be sincere to report that it looks like you have lost an ally in the pending war. Yet I am opposing you, and the rest of you first world countries lapping in your own riches, so if you lost Shing and his country, ha! So be it."

I had smirked back at her despite the sinking feeling exploding in my chest. "If I remember correctly, your own home home is one of the first world countries."

For a moment I saw her confidence falter. Then she shook her head and said into the camera, looking straight at me, "not anymore, Gordon. Not anymore."

And then the line had been cut, the image had faded and all I had seen on my glass screen was a message in red, that everyone across the world would see sooner or later. It was hacked into every computer network, every device on earth, in over 103 different languages. But in English it was just a four sentence message that declared war;

The first worlds will fall and the seconds will rise. Beware in which you side. Make the wrong choice and you too will die.

It is only through war the right answer lies.

And just like that, the bombs began.

-*-*-

The market is bustling with life, but in a sophisticated way. Everyone is letting everyone pass before they walk and the white, even in the busiest place in the complex, is abundant. It is everywhere. But that's not necessarily unusual. But it makes being a black very difficult.

Calix and I weave through the crowd, finding random stalls selling clothes, kitchen utensils, packs of dehydrated food, packs of fresh food, the bakery, books on all sorts of everyday tasks and educational DvD's. We walk around and look at everything like we could buy it even though we can't.

Blacks weren't given money. All we were given was the clothes on our backs and the guns at out sides. We were lucky if we got a good meal at night. My stomach ached. Being around all this food was making me sick. I hadn't eaten since last night, and although usually that wouldn't be that bad, today, with a head that's killing me and the thoughts inside it doing the same, I am starving.

Old books talk about how in markets the smell of fresh food lingers everywhere, but that doesn't happen in the Complex. The air that we breath in and out is filtered to be the cleanest possible, to prevent disease, and even if outside the dome is hotter than the sun, the Complex air will still be cool. Now, don't mistake the word cool for fresh. The complex air is anything but fresh. It's stiff and smells a hell of a lot like dust, because the actual air systems are very dusty.

Calix and I talk and laugh and joke like old friends. We browse the shops and discuss stuff other than training although it seems a centre of the conversation.

It's only after about an hour that I notice the whispers being spread around us, and the stares of the whites we pass. They point at me and talk quietly to their friends. I start getting uneasy so I tell Calix quietly that it might be better if we head back to the black block.

He frowns at me and shakes his head. "I don't want to go back there yet. But if you want to leave the markets, that's fine. Come on, lets wander."

And so that's what we do. We leave, and just stroll through the streets of the white side, like we were on patrol as we go we marvel over the size of the white houses.

And then as we get towards the edge of the white town, near the dome, both Calix and I slow down and stop talking. We reach the iron fence that rings the outskirts of the town and look through at the concrete wall at the bottom of the dome. Black patrols look in at the complex, guns at the ready if anyone tried to jump the fence and attempt to escape.

Not that it would ever work.

We both just stand there for a moment, looking through the fence. And then Calix asks the dreaded question.

"What was it like?"

I knew exactly what he was talking about. Everyone asked it eventually, and I never had an answer.

"I don't remember." I sigh and shift to look back at the street. He does the same.

"What do you mean?" He asks and I frown.

"Every time I try think about it, all I can remember are vague flashbacks. I remember the green, and all the colour. And I remember gun shots. And I can picture my best friend, and the van they took me back in. But then all I can see and all I can hear are their guns and Aril Trey saying-" I break off as I realise he is staring intently at me, calmly listening.

I look up at the overcast sky above us and sigh.

"There is no such thing as freedom."

We are both silent for a while, then Calix takes a breath and says, "Do you believe her?"

His question throws me off. That was the question wasn't it? Not whether she's right, but whether you believe she's right.

My problem was, I had no idea. I didn't know anymore. For years I had believed she was. But after meeting Calix, I'm not sure anymore. This feeling that flitted inside me, I had thought it was love. But I'm not sure anymore. It feels more like freedom. Freedom and rebellion.

Maybe I'm not even in love with him. Maybe I'm in love with the rebellion that he sparks within me.

But for all I know, that feeling of freedom could be taken away from me after the stunt I pulled.

I sigh and lower my gaze to the main building in the centre of the Complex.

"I don't even know what I believe anymore, Calix."

He reaches over and lays a hand over mine and I don't pull away, so we are both just leaning against the black fence, wrapped in our own thoughts. His hand sends warmth over mine, and that warmth spreads over my body like fire. The longer it stays there, the more my mind wanders. I'm not even sure whether I'm still drunk. It's late afternoon and maybe it's just that that's making my head fuzzy.

I'm not sure whether what I do next is because I'm drunk on alcohol or because I'm drunk on him, but I do it anyway.

I lean in and kiss Calix on the cheek.

As I pull away, he looks at me, shocked. And for a moment, I wonder what the hell is going through my head, but then he kisses me back, on the lips, and the thought vanishes.

It is sweet and soft, unlike our last. The first time, it had been rushed and sloppy, but this time he is slow and calm.

When we pull away, he smiles softly and I smile back. In a haze, I mutter, "You're smart you know."

He grins. "How?"

"You got the F to kiss you, twice."

He nods. "Well, they don't call me bullet boy for nothing."

I laugh. "As if."

He smiles and takes hold of my hand. Our faces are still so close, I can taste his breath and hear his breathing.

"Hey Calix, can I ask you something?" I whisper.

He nods slightly.

"Do you think this is real?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"This. Do you think it's real love?"

He doesn't answer for a minute, just ponders, then whispers to me, "I don't know."

And he kisses me again.

~~~

The food supply has come in. I actually ate well for a meal. The dull peas are mushy and tasteless but they are food, and the beef might be too chewy but it's meat.

Calix and I talk and laugh over our plates. Although the romantic atmosphere has evaporated, our conversation is light and fluffy, despite everyone around us pointing and whispering about me.

Not even the gossip could ruin my mood.

Calix tells me about how he was training to be a lawyer for the black trials before he became a black himself, and I tell him how when I was little I had the dream of being a teacher to the nursery kids. We swap little pieces of trivia like this until we finish eating then we head back to my room and I tell him on the way how I loved doing maths and reading.

"Reading what?" He asks curiously. I shrug.

"Fiction. The Silents have a whole collection of books." I tell him. "I used to always read down there."

He nods. "Cool.

When we get back to my room, I show him my maths and history books and he examines them and then puts them back in my drawer. As he is just about to close it though, he pauses and reaches and slowly pulls out my shell.

"What's this?"

I frown. "Nothing."

"No serious, what is it?"

I shake my head. "It's from the outside."

His eyes seem to light up as he examines it closely.

"What does it do?"

I shrug and sit down on my bed. "Nothing. But it's beautiful."

He nods and sits down next to me, still holding and admiring the shell.

I sigh. "There were a lot of beautiful things out there."

He looks up and hands me the shell. I rub my finger over the outside and it crumbles slightly under my touch, scattering crusty salt and old shell over the black sheets of my bed.

As I stare at it, I suddenly have a vision of intense blue and laughter. I see a small girl in front of me as we run over soft sand, her hair flying out behind her.

It is so realistic I can almost smell the salt, but then it disappears and I am back in my room, looking down at the shell, Calix beside me.

And suddenly my eyes fill with tears and all I can feel is sadness and dread.

"Hey, Mae, are you okay?" Calix asks but I can't choke out an answer.

I hold back sobs and ask him, "Calix, can you leave?"

He looks hesitant but nods.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asks as he gets up to leave and I nod, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

He throws me a slight smile and then turns at leaves.

The moment he's gone, I break down.

I can't help it. All the happy feelings that had filled my chest when I was with Calix disappear, and all I can feel is regret. The girl I had seen in my vision, she was dead now. She had been killed by the Complex.

Because both she and I had disobeyed their rules, and escaped. Escaped and tasted freedom.

But they didn't kill me. Because they thought I was valuable or because they really weren't cold blooded killers, whatever you believe, they didn't kill me. But now, that was all in jeopardy.

I had rebelled against the complex.

With that thought throbbing through my head, I go to bed, and somehow manage to fall asleep.

But only to nightmares of blue, green and blood red. I only ever have nightmares.

But at least the nightmares aren't as bad as reality. No, reality is much worse. Simply for one reason only.

In reality, it is real.