The Future King: Logres (13 page)

‘No, miss.’ Bedivere donned his glasses and resumed his work.

‘Sorry, miss,’ Gwenhwyfar added, wondering how much had been heard.
Embarrassed, she returned to her search, flicking through Tennyson, Thomas, and
then halting on Auden, trying to make an interesting choice that wouldn’t prove
too hard to examine.

It had to be bad luck that Science was the most frequent lesson in
Arthur’s timetable. There was a moment of panic when their teacher split them into
pairs, but thankfully Gwenhwyfar was allocated to work with someone else
instead. Deciding to spend his break time alone in the library, Arthur found a
corner that wasn’t too visible to the main desk and pulled out Marvin’s book.
Now gloved in a different book jacket,
The
Human Condition
was disguised as
An
Unfortunate Encounter with Alfred
: an easy and vaguely intellectual
crime-thriller. He flicked through the thin leaves, halted by a chapter
entitled: ‘The Rise of CCTV.’ Cautiously, Arthur observed his surroundings. The
librarian at the main desk was busy. He returned to the book. It read,

It is a little known fact that closed circuit television was first
developed by the Nazis during World War II. Mostly used to observe V2
launchings in 1942, it was also utilised in video recording technology, and
introduced the idea of surveillance in areas labelled ‘unsafe’ for humans.

He skipped down the page, scanning for key words. The clock behind
him ticked quietly. A muffled cough sounded at the other end of the room.

Widely used, closed circuit television has swiftly become a means of
keeping an eye on the masses. Integrated into businesses, coffee shops, public
transport and open spaces, it uses the pretext of protecting those on film to
gather information and monitor behavioural anomalies. From employee and
customer surveillance to crime prevention, closed circuit television has become
a controversial addition to daily life, many cameras becoming so discreet that
it has become hard to know when one is being watched, by whom, and for what
purpose.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Arthur looked up and observed
the small glass sphere nestled in the ceiling. He stared at it, and it stared
back. His eyes crept along the premises, and he noticed another, and then a
third, all placed in strategic positions. Nervously he shrank into his chair,
bringing
The Human Condition
closer
to his chest.

… with new technologies such as
emails, mobile phones and the Internet, it is sobering to explore how this rise
of surveillance has developed. It is well known that governments take liberties
with the privacy of most Internet users, tapping into email accounts and online
correspondence…

A chorus of pages flapped and wobbled as half a shelf avalanched to
the floor. Two aisles down Morgan hurried to tidy up. Arthur jumped to his feet,
stuffing
The Human Condition
into his
bag. Morgan looked up as he joined her, her eyes wide with surprise. He helped
her gather the laminated books off the floor.

‘You’re not a true library-goer until you’ve annoyed Mrs Paisley,’ he
said, glancing to the main desk where the librarian sat scowling, her glasses
illuminated by an old-fashioned computer screen. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ she murmured, lowering her gaze. ‘My bag just caught.’

Arthur stood and put the books back into their rightful place. ‘Were
you looking for something?’

‘I’ve got a study to do for class on the Fauvists. You?’

‘I was just reading.’

‘Anything good?’

He was tempted to tell her, but the urge quickly faded. ‘Not really,
just something I picked up from home.’

She bent down and retrieved the last two books. Arthur took one and pushed
it back where it belonged.

‘Thanks,’ she smiled, standing again. ‘For the damage control.’

‘You’re welcome.’

A thought suspended her as she turned to leave. ‘Is it true? Bedivere
tells me you’re not talking to him. He says he’s not talking to you, either.’

‘He’s not.’

She leant against the end of the shelf unit and observed him with
concern. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Arthur muttered. ‘He can stuff it, as far as I’m
concerned. He’s been teaming up with Emily.’

‘So that’s why you haven’t been in the canteen all week.’

‘I’m spending lunch with Marvin. It’s better, really,’ he shrugged.
‘I can’t stand the canteen, anyway. It’s too busy.’

‘You can always come and sit with me if you like.’ He thought she went
a little pinker as she spoke, and she soon shrugged to look elsewhere. ‘I mean,
if Bedivere’s not talking to you and Marvin’s busy, or something.’

‘Thanks.’ He wondered how, after all this time, he and Morgan had
hardly spoken. ‘I can’t today though, Marvin’s expecting me.’

‘That’s all right, I’m working in the art rooms anyway.’ Morgan stood
straight. ‘I should probably go and find this book. Want to help me? You know,
so I don’t destroy half the library.’

He offered her a lop-sided smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll manage. I’ve got some
reading to catch up on. But I’ll see you in History?’

Disappointment shadowed her face, but then the sun came out with a
wide smile. ‘Sure, I’ll see you then.’

She turned and headed for the Fine Art section of the library. Arthur
watched her for a moment but then returned to his seat, and opened up
The Human Condition
once again.

He was pleased to find Marvin in his classroom at lunch. He’d found
time to read through a little more of his book during English, and as he
discovered the chapter covering hierarchies and the monarchy had realised that
the author lived in a time before the abolition. Marvin was halfway through
eating a sandwich when Arthur joined him. He nodded to him, still chewing.

‘And—? How are you finding the book? Interesting?’

‘Very.’ Sitting, Arthur pulled his lunch out from his rucksack. ‘I’ve
just finished the chapter on CCTV. I’ve been wandering around the school with
my eyes open to cameras—I had no idea there were so many of them.’

His teacher nodded to the back of the room. Arthur twisted round and,
sure enough, there loomed another tiny black sphere.

‘You know they have microphones on them, these days,’ Marvin mused. ‘The
smarter ones have facial recognition, but these models are old. They were
designed to pick up key words in suspicious conversations. I mean, what’s a
suspicious conversation? Who decides?’ He took another chunk out of his
sandwich, ripping the crust from the bread. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he added,
swallowing thickly, ‘that one’s been broken for years. My friend Mr Pick, the
technician, overlooks it so long as I read through his children’s papers.’

‘Is there one in every classroom?’ Arthur broke into his lunchbox.
Marvin nodded. ‘Why?’

‘To keep an eye on things, I suppose. Just in case students bring
something dangerous into school. I don’t see the point of the microphones,
though. Maybe that’s to keep an eye on the content of our lessons. Speaking of
which, have you thought of any names for our afterschool club?’

‘Not yet,’ Arthur admitted. ‘When are we having it?’

‘Friday. What time do you finish work?’

‘Half five.’ He started to eat. ‘I’d like to be home for seven,
though.’

‘How about we do quarter to six to quarter to seven? I would have
liked to do an hour and a half, but I think an hour is stretching it enough.
It’s probably safest if you invite Bedivere and Morgan.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you
think that Gwenhwyfar would be interested in something like this?’

‘Probably not.’ Arthur shrugged. ‘She doesn’t seem like the type.’

‘No?’ Marvin crumpled his sandwich bag in his hands, and then dropped
it into the open-mouthed bin next to his desk. ‘I thought she might have potential.
She seemed like an intelligent girl to me.’

‘Maybe we should wait with the name until we’re all there,’ Arthur
suggested, eager to change the subject. ‘Then we can vote on the best one.’

‘Aha! Spoken like a true democrat. Let me know what Bedivere says.
You can ask him in History, no?’ Marvin popped open a packet of crisps, and
began to crunch. Arthur still didn’t know how to tell him that they were no
longer friends.

‘Good afternoon, class! If we can settle down, that would be good.’

Marvin was peering over the room of noisy students, hands elevated,
in an effort to gain their attention. Gradually the pupils began to fill their
allocated seats. Arthur did his best to ignore Gwenhwyfar, who sat waiting with
her chin propped in her hand. His eyes wandered across the room. Tom was
harassing Marvin doggedly.

‘Mr Hareton, if you would
please
stop using that mouth of yours for one minute, the rest of the class might get
the chance to learn something,’ Marvin stressed. He picked up some heavy books
and began to do the rounds, dropping one on each desk. ‘We’ll be looking at
military history today!’ he exclaimed. ‘One between two, please. You won’t be
needing your textbooks.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us that last lesson?’ complained Tom. ‘I’ve done
my back in, carrying that brick around all day.’

‘That’s what your
lockers
are for, Thomas.’ Marvin clapped his hands together twice. ‘Come on! Page
forty-seven. Chop chop! We don’t have all day.’ He turned to the board, seemingly
deaf to the buzz behind him. Arthur was wondering how to tell Bedivere about
the club without him mistaking it for forgiveness.

‘Marvin wanted me to speak to you,’ he ventured, already on page
forty-seven. He examined the old photographs, garish in their colouring. In one
picture, servicemen stood before an iron fence twisted by an exploded missile. Other
photographs were of long dead politicians, practising gestures of diplomacy.
‘He’s setting up an after-school club on Fridays, at quarter to six. He wants
to know if you want to come.’

‘What sort of club?’ Bedivere responded, surprised he was no longer
being ignored.

‘History. We’ll be looking at alternate truths, stuff he can’t teach
us in school. The darker side to England and all that. You interested?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bedivere gazed at Marvin’s back as he scraped chalk
letters across the dusty board.

Arthur twisted round in his seat. ‘Morgan? Marvin’s setting up an
afterschool club about world affairs,’ he murmured. ‘You’re invited too, if you
want to come.’ He caught Gwenhwyfar’s eye, felt his chest contract, and quickly
looked away.

‘When is it?’

‘Friday, next week at quarter to six,’ Arthur said. Bedivere was
still listening. ‘What do you think? We need to come up with a name for it, so
if you have any ideas…’

‘I’ll let you know,’ Morgan smiled, playing with a lock of her hair.

‘It’s a secret, though. You can’t tell a soul.’

‘I won’t,’ Morgan promised, glancing to Gwenhwyfar.

‘Can I join?’ Gwenhwyfar interrupted.

Arthur shook his head. ‘No, sorry.’

She scowled. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s by invitation only. If you want to join, you’ll have to ask Marvin.’

‘Why can’t you ask him?’

‘Because you should ask, if you want to join,’ Arthur insisted.

‘Can’t we just ask him now?’ Bedivere tried.

‘And let the whole class know?’

‘Gwen just heard it. I thought it was a secret?’ he argued.

‘Gwen’s not going to tell anyone,’ Arthur disputed. ‘Are you, Gwen?’
She didn’t seem to know how to react. ‘If she really wants to join she’ll have
to ask Marvin herself. It’s not that hard.’

Obviously hurt, Gwenhwyfar pulled her eyes away and across the room. Arthur
looked to Morgan and offered a smile. ‘So did you find something on the
Fauvists? Without destroying anything, I mean.’

‘I managed,’ she said, glancing to Gwenhwyfar anxiously.

‘I’m sure Mrs Paisley was pleased.’ There was an awkward silence. Bedivere
gave him a sidelong glance. ‘So I was thinking… are you up to anything tomorrow
lunchtime?’

She fiddled with her pen. ‘I don’t think so. Why?’

Arthur shrugged. ‘I was just wondering if I could take you up on your
offer. That is, if you’re not busy.’

‘Well, I was going to throw more shelf units on the floor, but I
think I could give it a miss.’ She offered a quick smile, and lowered her voice
to a diplomatic murmur. ‘Aren’t you doing something with Marvin?’

‘Not tomorrow. Besides, he’s probably getting sick of me by now.’ He
glanced to Gwenhwyfar. She seemed to be staring at the other side of the room. ‘Shall
we meet by the Art block?’

‘Sounds fine to me,’ Morgan enthused.

Marvin, finally prepared for the lesson, turned to them all with
another great clap and began his monologue on the First and Second World Wars.