The Underground Boy.

Diamante-Blue was sitting in the centre of the lobby, eyes glued to her tablet. She was feeling in an especially good mood that day. Perhaps it was something to do with her adorable new knee-high boots, made of plush pink suede; or her gorgeous black leather micro skirt, matched perfectly with that freshly purchased blouse. It might also be due to the fact that Donny Finch had complimented her designer clutch at lunchtime. But mostly, the reason for her upwards mood-swing was down to the tiny micro-chip hidden under her skin; refreshing her bloodstream with all sorts of happy chemicals. Rewards, of course, from her getting onto the Cheer Team and working hard on her last Comp. Test.
    The Guardians Will Always Reward Those Who Deserve, the familiar computerized female voice echoed through her brain. Providing a countless stream of comments, rules, and mottos in case she had let them slip her mind. Of course, such a thing would never happen - Diamante wasn’t a model student for nothing.
    Model Students Make for Model Lives.
    And for that comment, Diamante smiled. Or at least, she tried too. Her latest Botox treatment from the Clinic had made it painful to move her face muscles for the past few days; she was having to be fed through a tube at the moment.
    Pain is Beauty. Well of course, thought Diamante. Who didn’t know that? Just as this thought escaped into her mind, she noticed the girl on the bench opposite. Snorting in disgust, Diamante eyed her with deepest loathing. Doc Martins? Who wore Doc Martins? And what where those jeans? FYI, ripped, chains, and paint-streaked jeans never will be cool. And what is with her make-up? Diamante rolled her eyes. Green eyeliner? It’s strictly black. Far more classy. And her hair! Brown. Diamante was close to throwing up. Brown hair? Who had brown hair? The girl looked pretty depressed, and so she should be.
    Ugly = Depressed, Pretty = Success. Rightly so, Diamante agreed. Nobody wants an ugly house, or an ugly bedroom, or an ugly pair of heels. Ugliness was a Social No-No. Everybody knew that the Guardians would punish tardy make-up, out of season clothes, and un-updated treatments with depressing chemicals. The Guardians wanted to keep The City clean and pretty.
    No City Can Be Beautiful if it’s Citizens Are Grotesque.
    Diamante looked up from her tablet to the huge computer monitor on the screen. Scrolls of green lettered data rolled across the infinite darkness; and she quickly concluded that her appointment was scheduled in two minutes. It was awfully difficult to get a hold of her biological father. It had taken sixteen phone calls; four e-mails; and a rather heated discussion with his PA before she’d been able to be scheduled in. Of course, this was normal for everyone, especially as her father was so highly ranked in the GOOD (Guardians’ Official Order of Disciplines). She hadn’t seen him in two months, and despite the odd text, hadn’t heard much of him either. It wasn’t like she missed him or anything, but she really did need an advance on her credit card; and she was desperate for him to get a grip and divorce Nita already. The only reason he hadn’t, she had decided, was because he wasn’t there to receive the torture - the woman was trying to force Diamante to eat actual food. Didn’t she know what that did to your waist line? The Clinic was always telling The City’s citizens that pills where far better for your health. Small white squares that keep your body running on necessary minerals and so forth; but not actually tasting of anything. Everyone knows that taste makes you so fat. I mean the thing is just bulging with carbs. Why, Diamante had learnt that years ago, back in Junior Year!
    Being Big Is Bad.
    Di flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, trying to ignore the eye watering odour of hairspray that hit her square in face as she did so, and checked that Donny hadn’t replied via tablet without her noticing. It was a shame, she reasoned, as she scrolled through his previous messages, that he was not to be her Partner. But until she turned the age of sixteen, it was totally OK for her to fool around, and that was good enough for her. But when she turned the big one-six? She’d finally meet the Partner the Guardians had matched her with the day she was born. He’d be her first, but not necessarily her last. Once they’d produced at least one child, they could both take another Compatibility Test and get a divorce. Divorce was no longer a messy, nasty business. There where laws and regulations, and the idea of staying with someone longer than a few months was ridiculous. Imagine how bored you’d get? Di’s own mother had two men at the same time and even she admitted she could have done with another three, tops. The Guardians had taught the Citizens at a young age that, of course, love did not exist. Ludicrous! What nonsense! Love? Well, Dad had told her all about that. That’s what the Undergrounds all believe in. Of course, he set her straight via e-mail. Love is a nasty disease, supposedly. It infects the human brain and blinds people. Oh yes, they’d read about it in the few Ancient Texts they’d been allowed to preserve for historical research in the Library. She’d seen it with her own eyes. Quotes such as “Love is blind”, “Love is insane”. It makes you short of breath… Your heart skip beats… It was lucky, she concluded, that the Guardians had learned to stamp it out, or else there’d be trouble.
    Her tablet buzzed as she received a new message.

To: DiDi234
From: MrHudson@GOODEnterprises.

Message:

Hello Di.

Please pick up my coffee order from the vendor before coming. There is only one more client before you in the line, so I shall see you shortly.

Yours sincerely,

Mr Hudson,
The Guardian Official Order of Disciples No.6.


Slipping her tablet into her pocket, Di saw no other option but to follow her father’s order. Coffee was pretty much the only thing the Clinic preferred you to have, rather than through a pill. Coffee vendors where the only big business in the Food Industry these days, so you could find one at every Terminal, Office Block, Function Suite, Spa… The list was endless. She headed towards it, in the far corner, where huge screens where positioned so every passer-by could comfortably gawk at one on their way to the office. They all showed beautiful women and men - with the socially accepted blonde hair and blue eyes - sipping cups of expensive looking coffee and sending glossy smiles to the cameras. Di felt a pang of envy at the sight of the Coffee Commercial Girl’s gloriously huge lips. If only Di’s Clinic Rep. had let her get lip suction and Botox on the same day.
    “What will it be?” The boy behind the counter snapped, looking less than happy to be serving. He must have been D Class; a total Nobody. D Class meant the Guardians had already decided you’d live a life of low-standard living. Nobody moves Class. Nobody goes up or down the Social Ladder. Where your born is where you stay; it really is an ingenious idea.
    Switching Class Means Falling Standards.
    “Mr Hudson’s order,” She said, gritting her teeth at the fact she had to even look at such imbeciles as D’s, let alone converse with them.
    The boy’s eyebrows shot upwards, he obviously couldn’t afford Botox. He probably had to have shop-bought highlights. Ugh. Disgusting. Anything that wasn’t organized by the Clinic, in her opinion, wasn’t good enough quality for the likes of her hair. She had her own Representative there, who planned every next style choice, fashion statement, and plastic surgery operation. Without her, she wouldn’t be getting sent her new clothes or make-up. She wouldn’t be on trend. She would not be receiving the happy chemicals she enjoyed oh so much.
    The boy handed over a brown paper bag, she flashed a pageant smile and then turned on her heel after handing over her money (careful not to let her manicured hand touch his unmosturized, clammy palm as she did so) and then headed for the lifts, which would take her up to the Head Offices at GOOD Enterprises.
    That was when her tablet vibrated again. Fishing it out of her seriously tight pocket (Was she putting on too much weight? - Slimmer  Waists Means Bigger Bank Accounts, recited the Voice), she checked the Message Screen.

To: DiDi234
From: DonMan66

Message:

Di Ur Hot.
We shood go out.
Nuthin serious.
More lyk friends wi benefits.
Yeh?
Don.


Di squealed out loud. He wanted to go out with her? For real? She couldn’t believe it! This was perfect. Of course, she wasn’t disappointed about the “Nothing serious” and “Friends with Benefits” labels…Who likes labels in relationships? She was glad, actually. Oh wow. They where going to be Prom King and Queen for sure and -
    “Ouch!”
    Di stumbled backwards, hot coffee breaking free from the confines of its stupidly thin paper bag and spoiling her gorgeous pink blouse. She could feel it burning her skin, and staining her entire outfit. Thanks to her smoothed down soles, she went flying backwards, toppling onto the ground. Her clutch when flying, limbs sprawling…She distinctly heard the snort of laughter from the Green Liner Girl. She had a good mind to turn around and slap the girl across the face.
    Violence is Never The -
    “Watch it!” Di shrieked up at the looming figure who had so rudely barged into her. Although, any eye witness would point out it was her who wasn’t looking where she was going; and not concentrating on carrying the paper bag properly; and -
    “Watch it yourself,” A voice said. It was smooth… like, like… She didn’t know. For a strange reason, her eyes filled with tears. She was desperately searching for a word to describe it… To describe her pulse quickening, her head spinning, every hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She was ashamed of herself for not knowing how to describe such a feeling, and even more ashamed for losing control in the middle of her father’s lobby…
    “You need a hand?” The voice said. Softer this time. Kinder. She nodded, whimpering, not even daring to look at the state of the shirt. A hand reached out and took hers - which, without her noticing, and been raised before her, as if she was trying to shield her eyes from the sun (Although that had burned out years ago) - and pulled her to her feet. Now, she came to shoulder height of her attacker/ saviour. Looking up, knowing she could not deny it any longer, she locked eyes with such a person for the first time; and instantly, she knew she had just been electrified. Definitely. What else could describe the crackling energy pulsing through every inch of her body?
    The first thing she noticed was the eyes. Two emerald orbs that glittered and crackled and sparkled; like shards of mirror and glass where reflecting light from every angle. There was something tantalisingly mysterious about those eyes… Gorgeous green eyes. Hypnotic. Like kaleidoscopes. Or a constellation in the sky. She let her vision slowly zoom out from its' focus on those eyes. Thick brown waves for hair; brilliant skin that would have once been described as that of a Spaniard’s, if Spain still existed; and a boy so brilliantly toned and rugged it made her entire stomach knot and twist and flop.
    “Nice shirt,” He smirked.
    “Oh, em, coffee.”
    “Yeah,” He said, raising his eyebrow in mocking agreement. “I guessed.”
    “I mean, well, what I’m -”
    “You’re name?”
    “Di,” She said quickly, stumbling over the two letter world with a tongue that didn’t seem to fit in her mouth and a jaw that was refusing to work properly. For a strange reason, she blushed at the idea of telling him her real name. Diamante-Blue Harrison sounded tacky when facing such an obstacle as this boy.
    “Alex,” The boy smiled.
    “Oh, um, hey.”
    “You speak English?” He laughed.
    Of course I speak English, she frowned, Everybody does. Two seconds later, she realized the joke. But by that time, the boy had noticed the stunned look in her eyes. Of course he’d guessed: Dumb Blonde. Never before had she wanted to be ugly but intellectual more than then.
    “I’m not stupid,” She snapped.
    He smirked again. A smirk that made her grin despite herself. “Hey, I never said you where dumb.”
    “No…You didn’t,” She nodded.
    “Look, I’m sorry about the coffee.”
    “N-No. It’s ok. No worries.”
    “You sure? I can go buy -”
    “No. No it’s fine.”
    They exchanged hesitant glances. It was only now that Di noticed what the boy was wearing. Orange overalls. The sign of a -
    “Underground,” He nodded, following her gaze.
    “I don’t mind,” She said quickly, and right then, she honestly didn’t.
    All she cared about was Alex’s smirk; and his eyes; and the way everything else around her had faded to glittering blackness. How the whole world had turned silent, like someone had turned down the volume but turned up the atmosphere. In the background, muffled with static, she could make-out the Voice’s cries of alarm and order. But Di didn’t want order, or rules, or statistics. All she wanted was Alex the Underground Boy, and she knew right then she would stop at anything to get him.
    It took five minutes of conversation; a too-quick goodbye; and the fading sound of work boots on polished floors until she came back to her senses. She could feel her entire body sizzling with incredible blissfulness. And so she stood there, dripping in gone-cold coffee, ten minutes late for her appointment with Dad.
    And never before had she felt more alive; more human.