A bitterly cold, futuristic London from the distance.  Snow has already fallen and lines the buildings and roads like a blanket.  Closing in on the streets, a siren can be faintly heard.  Getting deeper into the streets of London, everything seems empty and deserted, the siren intensifies. Footprints are pressed deep into the snow as if activity were just here a moment ago.  Beneath the sound of the siren, words can be heard but are unintelligible at this distance.  The cold cry of the wind is lost as this terrifying wall of noise starts to encroach upon this silent land.  Marching shadows appear in the distance, the orders can be heard clearly now

    “Curfew is underway! Back to your homes!”

    Faces peer out from inside cold glass windows as a blur of mechanical entities pass on by.  The seconds feel like hours, the fear stays bottled up inside, waiting to explode like a bomb and then… silence.  The threat has passed but normalcy is long gone.

    Breathe

    A dark, seemingly underground bar.  The Ailing Owl is what it is called.  Dim lights, bodies opening the door as snow can be seen rushing in with the people.  Eyes looking all around, patrons drinking, and smiling when they can… or if they can.  “Eddison!”  A Parton from the sea of faces yells in the direction of the bartender.  Eddison nods his head and pours more ale to pas to the customer.  Posters are sewn across the walls with the words “Remember” and “Never forget”  Music is blaring in the background as a band is performing on a small stage.  A banner that reads : “The Machine Errata” is hanging in the backdrop.  The Machine Errata… the name of the order given by the machines to wage war on humanity. 

    “Sometimes I’m dancing in the rain, the sun will shine again!”

    People have gathered near the edge of the stage to look, watch and study.  The unnamed guitarist with her golden blonde hair swinging about seems caught in a trance as she plays her instrument.  The shadowy drummer with the platinum hair is locked in, his eye fixated on his set.  The tall and pale bass player gazes across the crowd, trying to ignite them with gestures and signals.  The beautiful singer, is dancing like a hurricane, her dress spinning across the stage as her heavenly voice pierces through the frozen air of the bar. Small of stature to be sure, but on that stage she appears as a goddess among the people.

    “This is music!”, an excited patron says near the back, looking towards his companions for the evening.

    “More drinks ma’am.” Another table of customers signal to the barmaid, whose mind is blank as she hurries from table to table filling orders in a timely fashion. 

    Eddison glances towards the stage with a smile while getting more orders ready. 

   “The way Lily dances on that stage, her voice echoing throughout these halls… It fires me up!” One patron says to another, as they seem to glow with radiance as the watch the now known singer of this band electrify the crowd. Eddison looks over.  “She uplifts all of us, remember that.” 

    This is the only place you can still find music these days.  The art has been lost to the dregs of humanity.  It’s brooding, self loathing existence in the eyes of the machine overlords.  People gathered in the Alining Owl to remember what it once was like to be alive.

    A man sitting by himself at a table in the back with a light drink he is sipping slowly, the lights are dim but he seems to be writing something down on paper. Lily Gray is her name.  And her older brother Landon is the bassist.  Not too much is known about the guitar player Kendal Reed, but rumors are that she is a member of the Underground London Resistance.  Which wouldn’t be too hard to fathom, as many of the guests tonight could very well be members also.  The drummer, Oliver James, is actually from a wealthy family.  One of the few families who were still able to hold on to their wealth after the last war.  His parents work for our small and limited government, but in what capacity, it is not publicly known. 

    But Lily, she is the one everyone comes to see each night.  It is known that her mother died shortly after her birth and that her father is being held somewhere in a facility, call it a prison if you’d like.  It is her youthful energy that seems to stir the souls of these men and women.  They look to her not only for inspiration but courage.  The world is so bleak, but Lily always has a smile on her face.  My name is Charles Bishop, I am the only local beat writer of London.  I like to chronicle events and find out other stories to keep our people informed of what could be happening in the world today.  A human perspective outside of the automatic and mechanical one. My business has grown so, that I am fairly recognized in public and even the government has taken a small interest in my works lately.  <The song ends>

    “Remember, there his always hope.  There is always a reason to move forward and fight for what we all believe in.  Make the pain and loss of yesterday your weapon for tomorrow.  We are here to remind you of what it means to be human.  Don’t lose that spirit inside you.”      The words of Lily Gray ring out like a calm but sharp siren.  Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen to this angels words.  While on the outside you would think everything she said rang hollow, but I know over time, we will take back what is ours. The music stops, as the band puts down their instruments and begin to walk off the stage.  The silence of the bar begins to slowly creep back into a soft roar and within minutes its back to normal.  Drinks start to flow again and chatter of a distance future begin to pour out of the lips of those with one simple wish.  Hope.

    A luxurious space with a small desk and elaborate chair sit neat a large window that looks out over the beak dry city scape.  I figure is seen peering through the window with a white and gold trim coat concealing most of the body. 

    “The people… Your people seem to be settling down more as the days process.”  Says a faceless creature towards a now uncovered face of an older man.  “Only three infractions and a half dozen civilians caused any sort of unwanted activity this past week.” 

    The man continues to stare out of the window as he gazes more closely into his reflection that is present than the city itself.                      “Cenjurial.”  The man now turns his attention towards the creature. 

    “Yes, president Clarke?” Says the creature. 

    The man walks over to sit down at his desk.  “You think you know these people.  You have all their records, their files and you predict outcomes.  But you still vastly underestimate the human spirit.” Says the man to what is now clearly a humanoid machine. “I do not care about these useless reports as I have said many times before.” 

    The man is now sitting at his desk, hands cupped in front of his face.  “I understand your job, your programming, but I know that there is a resistance.  You know there is a resistance.  And until they are found and stopped, there will never be the peace we all call for.”

    The humanoid machine, Cenjuriel, stares blankly at President Clarke, emotionless. 

    “Another war would destroy us.  It is far too soon.”  Clarke turns his chair and is again facing out the window to look at the city. “This is my home, it will always be my home.  And it is the home to everyone else who lives in it.”  Clarke seems dejected with his head lowering down, his eyes looking at the floor.  “I was elected to guide them all, to help them and keep them from fear.  But when I look outside, it is all I see.  A scared, lonely city.” 

    Cenjuriel remains motionless, almost waiting for the President to stop speaking for a brief moment.  The silence falls upon the chamber before the machine begins to speak.  “While I only serve as the voice, I shall contact Telverei and see if there are any special meals we can give out to the city folk.  Maybe this can at least start us into the right direction.”  The President almost seems to plead with the robot. 

    “Please, I just want to move forward and get humanity back on the right track.  They want for hope and I need to give it to them.”  Clarke looks up only to see his reflection in the window again and Cenjuriel walks out of the room unannounced.

    Outside of a doorway, sign covered in snow, a lone man stands next to the wall smoking a cigarette trying to keep warm while also keeping an eye out for… something.  The streets are mostly silent, as most people wouldn’t walk about during these conditions.  Off in the distance you can see Parliament and its trance-like lights glowing through the haze and fog.  Someone arrives at the door.  The man checks him and this new stranger pulls out a badge of some sort.  He is let in.  Back in the bar, people are still conversing about, the noise has mostly settled and the band members are gathered by their fans and are engaging in a joyous social moment. 

    “Man, I did great that time!  This show was one of the best, no doubt!” , the platinum haired Oliver just run over with positive emotions. 

    “WE did great.”  Landon, the stoic bass player chimes in to correct Oliver. 

    “You’re right, you’re right.”  Oliver kind of looking half embarrassed with a grin. 

    Lily shares a laugh, one of the few times she is able to these days.  Kendal sits slightly away from the crowd, close enough to be within earshot to know what the topics are about.  Only casually glancing over at the sound of her name being called. 

    “Kendal!  I am your biggest fan!  I love how you play and the songs you write are just awesome!" Kendal looks at everyone with a tiny smile and while looking down tells everyone thank you. 

    “I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight.  It means so much to all of us.”  Lily stands up and shares her thoughts with the crowd around her.  While she might not be as tall as those around her, she commands the attention of all those who would listen. 

    “Some of your faces I have seen before, some are new and some I have not seen in a long time.  I don’t know what is out there and I don’t know what some of you have seen.  But we will always be here to help you any way we can.”  Lily looks around the room and can feel the smallest glimmer of hope.  A hope that some of these men and women will be fighting for shortly.  A hope that some will never see.  Yet, there is a future waiting around the corner.  

    Eddison tends to bar patrons while cleaning some glasses, the group of people seem calm and content for the evening.  The TV screen  in the back of the bar switches programs to show an emergency notice.  The newscaster (a machine) points to a major storm heading towards London and that it should arrive in 4 days.  The storm is unprecedented and people need to take all precautions.  No one in the bar seems to really be paying attention to the broadcast. “Please be safe and have a good night”. The broadcast ends as the original program is cut back in. /end Stage One