Read Online Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) by Jeremy M. Thayer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jeremy M. Thayer
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surrounding him, they was still a glimmer with Tim of the freedom that once was.
Having friends and the uninhibited right of conversation resembled something like a legendary fairy tale, deep within the chasms of the Archive of Fact. To think out loud, and those thoughts (no matter if they are offensive or accepted) becoming uttered words and phrases, without retaliation or threat of punishment, seemed to Beaver like one of the greatest freedoms that could ever be. He wondered if ever there was a time that this freedom of words and thoughts existed. And if it did, what idiotic thing could have been that would make them surrender such a right. Truly in Beaver’s mind, that would be ranked as one of the largest tragedies of history that could ever be.
As the moments ticted away, he soon dismissed such notions and began thinking about the light ahead. Other than his workjob of hurting people, he had certain duties that would arise from time to time. Since the cycle of promotion and production was almost over this span, he greatly sighed; pondering if he would have any extra-curricular duties awaiting for him at Perpetua. With each droll bite of his detestable meal, he became sicker inside. One thing that he hated just as much as the Academy and the G.M. was the other part of his workjob. He thought that maybe today, he would escape unscathed.
Probably not –Beaver thought as he rolled his eyes.
He almost had his lightfast consumed; then it started. As if it were a mid-ancient bugle call, Academicis meis, mi Adoráte resonated once again throughout Westbrook. Beaver stood up and raised his hands in salutation to the boring pictures on the progscreen as the victual android did the same. As always, the Great Master then appeared to give his lightmorn time address.
“ Good light to you all, my faithful …” he blustered with an echoed tone. He of course had the same regalia as yesterday.
Wouldn’t a king get sick of wearing the same thing every day? --Beaver quickly thought with a sarcastic mental attitude.
As he barked out the need for everyone giving it there all ; All Beaver could think about was finding Timmy in the crowd and going to his workjob. Beaver hated his Hachiman position at Perpetua, but he hated hearing the voice of the dreary and monotonous G.M. even more. The reverberation of his talk always made Beaver sickened inside. His droll ramblings were to him like the screeching of the transports leading to Tom Bossley. Every turn they make is followed by an ear-piercing squeal, because of their massive weight and armoring. Luckily for him, with a few minor interjections the Great Master had come quickly to his closing tagline.
Beaver almost uttered out loud the word “ Finally! ” but, he pursed his lips tightly to restrain himself.
As the progscreen faded, Beaver and Viki stated in unison “ SdotG .” Beaver said this motto of his captors with enthusiasm. He did so, not because of any sort of piety; but because he wanted to get out and to the transport as quickly as possible. Beaver reluctantly returned to the last scraps of his lightfast. With several quick digs into his bowl, the destable meal was fully consumed. He had to because he if would leave without finishing, there would be some sort of punishment waiting for him at Perpetua.
“Thank you Viki, it was great!” Beaver said, signifying that he was done. Then without any warning, Beaver seemingly leapt forth out of his house. He bounded past the threshold of his domicile, like a captured deer-dog being set loose in the marshlands. He felt free, if even but for a moment. He made it a point to do the same, every light after the G.M.’s lightmorn address. It was his daily act of hidden rebellion against the Academy. And like a flightless bird, he went from the euphoria of flighted freedom to the suffering of captivity; as his feet touched the pathway below.
“ Come on … before we’re late !” Timmy2845 barked in front of Beaver’s
Having friends and the uninhibited right of conversation resembled something like a legendary fairy tale, deep within the chasms of the Archive of Fact. To think out loud, and those thoughts (no matter if they are offensive or accepted) becoming uttered words and phrases, without retaliation or threat of punishment, seemed to Beaver like one of the greatest freedoms that could ever be. He wondered if ever there was a time that this freedom of words and thoughts existed. And if it did, what idiotic thing could have been that would make them surrender such a right. Truly in Beaver’s mind, that would be ranked as one of the largest tragedies of history that could ever be.
As the moments ticted away, he soon dismissed such notions and began thinking about the light ahead. Other than his workjob of hurting people, he had certain duties that would arise from time to time. Since the cycle of promotion and production was almost over this span, he greatly sighed; pondering if he would have any extra-curricular duties awaiting for him at Perpetua. With each droll bite of his detestable meal, he became sicker inside. One thing that he hated just as much as the Academy and the G.M. was the other part of his workjob. He thought that maybe today, he would escape unscathed.
Probably not –Beaver thought as he rolled his eyes.
He almost had his lightfast consumed; then it started. As if it were a mid-ancient bugle call, Academicis meis, mi Adoráte resonated once again throughout Westbrook. Beaver stood up and raised his hands in salutation to the boring pictures on the progscreen as the victual android did the same. As always, the Great Master then appeared to give his lightmorn time address.
“ Good light to you all, my faithful …” he blustered with an echoed tone. He of course had the same regalia as yesterday.
Wouldn’t a king get sick of wearing the same thing every day? --Beaver quickly thought with a sarcastic mental attitude.
As he barked out the need for everyone giving it there all ; All Beaver could think about was finding Timmy in the crowd and going to his workjob. Beaver hated his Hachiman position at Perpetua, but he hated hearing the voice of the dreary and monotonous G.M. even more. The reverberation of his talk always made Beaver sickened inside. His droll ramblings were to him like the screeching of the transports leading to Tom Bossley. Every turn they make is followed by an ear-piercing squeal, because of their massive weight and armoring. Luckily for him, with a few minor interjections the Great Master had come quickly to his closing tagline.
Beaver almost uttered out loud the word “ Finally! ” but, he pursed his lips tightly to restrain himself.
As the progscreen faded, Beaver and Viki stated in unison “ SdotG .” Beaver said this motto of his captors with enthusiasm. He did so, not because of any sort of piety; but because he wanted to get out and to the transport as quickly as possible. Beaver reluctantly returned to the last scraps of his lightfast. With several quick digs into his bowl, the destable meal was fully consumed. He had to because he if would leave without finishing, there would be some sort of punishment waiting for him at Perpetua.
“Thank you Viki, it was great!” Beaver said, signifying that he was done. Then without any warning, Beaver seemingly leapt forth out of his house. He bounded past the threshold of his domicile, like a captured deer-dog being set loose in the marshlands. He felt free, if even but for a moment. He made it a point to do the same, every light after the G.M.’s lightmorn address. It was his daily act of hidden rebellion against the Academy. And like a flightless bird, he went from the euphoria of flighted freedom to the suffering of captivity; as his feet touched the pathway below.
“ Come on … before we’re late !” Timmy2845 barked in front of Beaver’s
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