S3, E6 | Presented the Chance to Face the Camera

> Tuesday, 30th November 2038 <

Pulling her head back whilst standing at the kitchen sink, Liv downs the pill that resides in the palm of her hand before taking back half of a cup of water. “You almost ready, Liv?” Andrew wonders aloud, stepping out of the bathroom on the floor above before calling to his daughter below. “Yeah!” the teenager shouts back, returning the glass to one of the cupboards above, “I’m ready!”

Pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail, the teenager reaches for the knapsack she’d thrown into one of the kitchen’s unoccupied seats before making for the front door, venturing toward the way in which she’s meant to leave with the intention of waiting for her father.

Struck with the bitter chill of the midwestern winter, Liv steps out onto the top-most step of her home’s face in a large, puffy coat before descending the stairs toward her father’s car, climbing into the back seat and settling her bag into the open space beside her.

Having initially entered a mostly-empty building filled with only the school’s staff, Liv takes a seat in the building’s cafeteria and reads the pages of her textbook, using the time at her disposal to familiarise herself with the day’s science lesson. Shared by only three or four other students, the massive wing of the building presents a secluded and peaceful tranquillity for the studying soul to take solace in, losing track of time until her ear can catch the sound of the opening bell.

Holding the hardcover science textbook closely against her chest, Liv’s eyes focus on the patterned floor that she walks whilst music blares into her right ear, spilling out from the wireless earbud and flooding her head. Of no more importance than its use of marking the final day in the month of November, this Tuesday appears to the girl just like any other, the second day in a stretch of five that she’s meant to drudge through in order to reach the weekend.

“Liv, you’re here” the homeroom teacher murmurs beneath her breath after a quick glance at the small group of students that occupy the chairs across from her. Seated near the opposite side of the room whilst passing momentary glances toward her acquaintance, Derby taps her foot along the ground anxiously whilst the teacher carries down the line, not taking long to point her out.

“Deborah, you’re here” the older woman remarks, taking the tip of her pen to the paper that sits atop her clipboard, marking the student as noted. For a few further seconds, the teacher wraps up taking attendance before deeming her efforts to be sufficient enough, stepping away from the podium at the front of the classroom with her job done.

Freed to socialise amongst themselves before the bell rings again to begin the first classes of the day, seven of the eight students in attendance shift from their designated seats and toward their acquaintances elsewhere, with two students specifically exiting the room all together. “Psst, Liv?” Derby whispers, rounding the front of the room to approach the girl, whose head pulls up from the open science textbook.

“We didn’t have science homework last night” Liv quickly replies, attempting to reassure her friend that a quick copy-job of her own work is not necessary. Shaking her head without offering a verbal reply, Derby refuses her pal’s assertion before making for the empty seat just ahead, lowering herself in it whilst continuing to maintain a hushed and reserved demeanour.

Her resting face holding steady and patient, Liv discourages her expression from taking on a manner that can match the uncertainty and intrigue that she conceals within, unsure what her friend’s quiet presentation could imply, though very captivated. Still without speaking a word other than the fellow student’s name, Derby reaches into her back pocket as she sits down and slides free her card wallet from inside.

With the push of her thumb against a small, almost unnoticeable button hidden away within a nook near the top corner of the device, the rebellious ally sends a set of cards shooting upward from their containment within the accessory in ascending order. “I started driving home after I dropped you off last night, but I got hungry along the way and stopped for a taco” Derby explains, picking out a plain, white card with a number written along the face of it.

“This guy stopped me and asked if I knew who you or your dad were. I don’t know who he is, what he wants or how you know him- but he wanted me to give you this” the woman confesses, handing the special needs teenager the contact slip. Looking at it with bafflement, Liv looks at the number before flipping the sturdy piece of solid paper over, finding a complete lack of anything on the rear side of the card aside from the same white, rough material the rest of the piece is made from.

“Did he say anything about who he was or what he wanted?” Liv inquires, looking back to the face of the card whilst asking the question, not recognising the phone number that’s scrawled out. “He only told me to give you that card and have you call him” Derby responds, shaking her head with a slight pout in her lips, “I was caught by surprise. By the time he turned around and walked off, I was too caught up in figuring out what it all was before I could think to ask him anything.”

Continuing to stare intently at the card, Liv searches through her mind for anything that could resemble the contact information on its front to no avail. “Obviously, I just thought you should know” Derby reassures, gesturing her equal confusion with the wave of her hand toward the card, “if it’s anything you need me for, just let me know.”

Looking up to her unruly companion, Liv gives off a half smile and appreciative nod before staring back to the card, continuing to mask her bewilderment whilst trying and failing to think toward who would wish to capture her attention so vehemently.

= Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =

“Remodelling or relocating?” Andrew’s defence attorney inquires, stepping past the small business-owning client, who holds the shop’s door open for him to enter through. “The former” the father of two responds, stepping away from the entrance and allowing it to slowly close itself, “the shop’s a lot busier than it was when I bought it, but the building will still suffice for the time being. I figured all that graffiti being plastered on it gave me a good excuse to get some renovations going.”

“How much longer do you plan on operating out of this place then?” Mr. Webster inquires, passing a look around the plant-filled shop as he wanders further inward, “wouldn’t it be a massive financial undertaking to renovate a building you won’t use for much longer?”

“Well the business has turned a bigger profit annually for the last eight years. There’s more demand, and- especially during the spring- a lot more foot traffic” Andrew responds, crossing his arms whilst following his attorney at the man’s own pace, “the building can handle the patrons for now, but I’m hoping that an entrance to a terrace on the side lot will help alleviate a lot of that congestion. I figure it’ll probably net me at least another few years out of this place.”

“And the money’s worth spending to expand this place instead of going out and renting somewhere bigger?” Henry Webster replies, reaching the centrally-located abundance of fauna that lines the building’s centre-most column before turning back toward his client. “By then, I hope that I’ll actually be able to own the property outright” Andrew responds, presenting his future plans whilst staring toward the empty dirt lot on the building’s street-facing side.

“I figure I can break this thing into two condos or a small apartment unit. Offer the side with the terrace at a higher price than the one with an alley-facing entry” the business’ operator continues, “it shouldn’t cost too much more. Besides, leaving this place behind as one or the other- a condo or an apartment- would pretty much just turn it into a passive income generator. Not the worst problem to have.”

“I suppose not” Webster responds, offering an approving nod toward the future-oriented family man before tucking his hands into his pockets, “and neither would collecting damages for your troubles over the last few weeks, right?” Confused, Andrew squints his eyes toward the defence attorney, whose right eyebrow lifts higher than the left one, leaving the small business owner to draw his own conclusions.

“What do you mean?” the father finally concedes, begging the question he assumes his hired legal assistance is eager to answer. “Well, the word that I’m getting is that the scumbag who’d had you arrested on false pretences has skipped town altogether” Webster responds, shrugging his shoulders before taking his eyes toward the empty plot of dirt off to the building’s side, staring at emptiness as he presents his case.

“Your building was damaged with graffiti as a direct result of the now provably-false claim, and you were forced to temporarily shut down and miss a great deal of business, I would assume?” the defence attorney continues, presenting his case to a now more-privy store owner, “and on top of missing valuable business and being forced to pay your defence attorney, this piece of dogshit falsely put you at the forefront of a race war! Think of how that could’ve sullied your reputation!”

Bowing his head with a grin, Andrew feels the back of his attorney’s hand gently smack him on the chest, physically presenting the amusement of the legal aid in providing a new course of action. “If the guy hadn’t come forward with dashcam footage, think of how badly your business would’ve been affected by his claims!” Webster proclaims, speaking with the tone of someone gleeful to make such a case, feigning the awe that is built into his words, “that smells like a cause to sue for damages, no?”

Reaching for the itch on the back of his head whilst holding back a light chuckle, Andrew ventures toward the shop’s counter whilst gently swaying his head from one side to the other. “I’m sure it reeks of defamation suits at the least...” the satisfied shop owner responds, picking up a damp rag from just nearby the cash register, taking it to the hardwood finish upon finishing his reply, “...but I’m fine with leaving him in my rear view mirror.”

With a look of surprise, the defence attorney removes both hands from his pockets after a few seconds of silence, approaching the store’s owner. “The rat bastard nearly ruined your entire life had it not been for some outright luck” Webster retorts, watching a grin arise over the father’s face, “now you hear that he’s run off and tried to make himself disappear, and you’re just fine with that? You’re just fine with letting him go off and maybe try and kidnap someone else’s kid?”

“I don’t think he’s gonna go after someone else’s kid” Andrew responds, continuing to shake his head in refusal as he exchanges the damp cloth out in favour of a dry one. “How can you know that for sure?” Webster replies, challenging the father to consider how little the human waste of air had cared to make his initial attempt in broad daylight, “how can you stand there and tell me you don’t think he’ll try and do the same to someone else?”

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s learned his lesson, Henry” Andrew reassures, nodding to the defence attorney before taking the unsullied rag to the faux hardwood finish. “Now you’re having a laugh at this” Webster responds, hands held at his sides as his head leans toward his left shoulder whilst nodding, “I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to think people like that learn lessons. One man being braver than others to step in and get involved won’t teach him anything.”

“You’d be surprised at how persuasive I am when I’m angry” Andrew replies, amused at the conversation that he partakes in, “you should’ve seen his face before those market workers spilled out into the parking lot.”

“I’m sure you’re not someone to get on the bad side of, Andrew. With that said, I don’t think your anger is enough to completely rehabilitate a vicious piece of trash like that young man” Webster doubles down, stopping as the second soul in the discourse looks up from his duties, swinging the dry rag over his shoulder and letting it sit there.

“I’m telling you now that- as far as I’m concerned- he’s not an issue anymore” Andrew replies, pressing the palms of both hands firmly into the countertop, “whatever he does from now on... only god knows. But, as far as my family and I are concerned, everything about him is best left behind us now.”

“Andrew, you-” the defence attorney interjects, attempting to persuade the family-loving gentleman before him without success, thwarted by the interruption of the father’s voice. “Henry, I’m sure you’d love me to go along with you and file this suit. I’m sure you’d be over the moon to have some big, blockbuster defamation case to win and make headlines over” Andrew explains, shaking his head with refusal, “but if I’ve learned anything from the legal system, it’s to get things done quick.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean” Henry concedes, frowning as he nods toward the man he accepts is incapable of being swayed. “I’m sure you do. I don’t need to worry about that scumbag anymore than I already have, and I’m not going to spend tens of thousands of dollars for a payout that I don’t need and- quite frankly- I don’t want” Andrew concludes, tapping his palm against the counter twice before walking around the way he’d initially journeyed, “thanks for the offer, but no thank you.”

|

Overhearing the tone of various teachers speaking to their classes in the rooms that she passes along her journey, Liv wanders through her high school’s halls alone, keeping an eye out for the trio of troublemakers that pose her concern whilst her mind pays its attention to more pressing matters. Minding her own business whilst keeping her eyes and ears away from conversations they’re not meant to join into, the curious student strolls her way toward private corners of the spacious building.

Though aware of a few spaces where privacy would be a near guarantee, the travelling junior aims for something more assuring, disobeying the typical routes and most-frequented pockets of the school that she’s more familiar with in favour of the seclusion that other sides tempt to provide. For almost three minutes, the girl’s legs continue to carry her forward without certainty over where their efforts will lead her, the only hope being that her following actions are witnessed by no one.

Just as her stomach begins to dance as if her intestines were trying to not themselves, the natural sensation of uneasiness with venturing beyond her comfort zone leads Liv into an oddly well-lit stretch of hallway adorned with doors on either side, all closed shut and seemingly ignored for the most part. Squinting her eyes, the wandering learner takes her attention to a set of double doors at the corridor’s end, painted the same shade of semi-light blue as every other entrance along the way.

Refusing to hesitate in moving forward, Liv advances upon the very end of the hallway, stretching her hand out for the latch-like entrance that awaits her, pushing the switch inward with her thumb to free the passage for entry. Immediately struck with lights of equally bright luminosity as the ones that had flushed the gangway behind her, the student shields her face as the spacious, dark room becomes freed for her to look into, the obstruction of nothingness a factor no more.

Briefly pacing around the room, Liv tries to familiarise herself with the way in which the room has been set up, a variety of objects- all shaped in different ways- covered in tarps and stored away for long enough to at least gather a hefty layer of dust. After a few seconds, the knots in the student’s stomach begin to metaphorically unwind themselves, easing herself into a strange sense of comfort that’s at least operable enough to follow through with her original intentions.

Retrieving the blank-faced card from within her pocket, Liv presents her commands to the smart watch on her wrist and speaks the number aloud, beginning to feel the knots in her stomach wind themselves up once more as she holds off on following through with her order. Glancing back down at the identical number on her watch’s screen to what’s written on the card she was handed earlier in the day, the student lets the brief pause inflict its will upon her as great discomfort.

“Place call” she soon doubles down, fighting past the urges to backtrack her way into writing off the card as something of little to no importance, needing to know who- or what- yearns for her acknowledgement so badly. For a few seconds, all that Liv’s nerves are left with are the sounds of ringing, her attempt at reaching the other line left in the hands of the soul that searches out for her dial.

“We’re sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is unavailable” the answering machine recites after a few further moments, refusing the teenager any answers for the questions that lay eager on her mind. Rolling her eyes and dropping her hands in frustration, Liv stares toward the ceiling before violently shaking her wrist through the air, ending the call upon her gesture and returning her to the silence that the odd room’s seclusion provides her with.

“Who the fuck would you be?” she mutters to herself, asking the question aloud that receives as little of a valid option as is given when the inquiry is kept in her head. Frustrated and even more anxious than she was mere seconds ago, Liv’s feet begin to carry themselves toward the way in which she’d entered, wanting to remove herself from this wing of the building as quickly as she’d discovered it before her attention is stolen by the mysterious stranger once more.

“One new message” the young woman’s wrist watch proclaims, re-earning the girl’s full focus as her attempted departure is thwarted. As if the time she’d spent years waiting for a replying call as opposed to a few seconds, Liv lifts the device to her lips and hastily demands that it read the return comment aloud.

“There’s a field four and a half miles away from your home address. That’s where the specific address that’s attached to this message will lead you” the written text reads, provided with a strangely-robotic human tone of voice, the words spoken to the best of the watch’s abilities, “meet me there tonight and come alone. I don’t wanna have to out you as a liar because you don’t show up when asked.”

|

“Is anyone home!?” Andrew calls out as he steps through the front door, two paper bags filled with groceries under each arm. “Yeah, but I’m just about to head out with Derby!” Liv calls out from the second level of the home, dressing herself in the comfort of her own bedroom whilst her father carries himself toward the kitchen.

“Your mother’s van isn’t in the driveway, so I figured either you’d be here or you’d all be off somewhere getting dinner or something!” Andrew retorts, shouting louder than he’s used to when in the confines of his own home, forced to do so in order for his words to meet his daughter’s ears.

“Mom and Galen left two hours ago!” Liv shouts back, using the lamp on her nightstand to ensure she doesn’t put on her pants backward, unable to count on the sunlight that dipped below a few, short hours ago. Keeping his thoughts to himself for the moment, the only man to call the building home waits for his daughter to finish assessing her wardrobe to prevent from yelling any further than he already had, preferring to wait the next two minutes out by putting away the newly-purchased produce.

“Did she tell you where she was going?” Andrew wonders aloud, finally overhearing the footsteps that his daughter carries herself down the main staircase with. “No, but they were dressed like they were going out for dinner” Liv replies, leaning her head toward one side as she fits an earring through the hole in her lobe, “why, did you have some fancy dinner planned for her?”

“No, I made a quick trip out for milk that turned into more than I’d bargained for” the father replies, stuffing a head of romaine lettuce atop a pair of pickle jars on the refrigerator’s middle-most shelf, “when you reach my age, you’ll quickly find out how impossible it is to leave the mart with only what you went there for. You’ll walk in looking for bread and leave with eighteen other things.”

“It sounds like there are worse problems to have” Liv replies, her joke amusing the man that puts away the various goods with surprising efficiency. “There sure are, kid” Andrew retorts, finally emptying the first paper bag before discarding it into the corner of the room, leaning back as he remains knelt upon one knee as his eyes find his offspring, “where are you and Derby headed off to?”

“I’m not sure. We’re meeting up with two other girls from our class at their place. They’re doing a hangout at the firepit in their backyard and Derby invited me” Liv responds, lying through her teeth, but doing so incredibly convincingly. “This girl, Derby, does she know about you not being- uh- as hampered by your condition as before?” Andrew wonders aloud, pressing his forearm against the fridge as he looks toward his daughter with curiosity.

“No, but she’s always been pretty dependable. She’s pretty much the only person that’s not called me a retard” Liv responds, finally fitting her earring into place, “she’s a little misunderstood, but so is everyone. I trust her more than anyone else I go to school with.” Left with little choice but to nod with hopeful acceptance, Andrew pays his daughter the benefit of the doubt and juts his head toward the door.

“You’ll have to introduce me to her one day” Andrew replies, gesturing for the home’s exit with a gradually-building trust in his daughter to make good use of the faith he’s leaving at her hand, “now go on and enjoy yourself, kid.” Smiling toward her father, Liv leans toward the ground and kisses the man on the cheek before turning away, walking for the front door as a buzzing overcomes her father’s wrist.

Waiting until his offspring has fully stepped through the door, Andrew lifts his wrist toward his mouth and parts his lips. “Answer call” the man mutters aloud, letting dominant hand rejoin the other in attending to the bagged groceries he’s yet to put away. “This is an automated message to inform you of an incoming call request” a robotic tone of voice begins after three brief seconds.

Not having read the caller’s identification when it’d popped onto his device’s screen, the unexpected, machine-like tone taken on the other end of the line draws the recipient’s full attention. “Should you agree to accept this call, you will not be charged at any rate for your participation- regardless of the conversation’s duration” the voice proceeds, capturing Andrew’s unrivalled sights as he stares into the small screen, only met with a blue screen and a set of white numbers ticking upward.

“Participation in this call is strictly voluntary, and you are not mandated to accept being connected to the caller’s line. If you choose to disregard this phone call, no action will be taken against you” the robot continues, its continued speech only pleasing Andrew less as it hesitates to get on with its reason for calling.

“You are receiving a requested call from an inmate at Potosi Correctional Center in unincorporated Washington County, Missouri” the robot finally reveals, the proclamation being one that instantly heightens Andrew’s instincts, carrying his eyes to the device’s screen as the automated voice on the other end of the line attempts to continue, “the inmate in question-”

Before being afforded the opportunity to continue any further, the robotic tone’s voice falls silent as the father punches the air with great force, the shaking gesture prompting the call to end right then and there. With wide eyes, Andrew stares at the distance of the room, drawing his own conclusions as to the phone call’s origins before acting on his impulses alone, struggling for a brief moment to rip the watch free from his wrist before discarding it into a random kitchen drawer.

As if his life were threatened just through being within the vicinity of the device, Andrew walks away from the kitchen with his hands pressing against either side of his head. Breathing heavily, the man paces toward the entrance to the kitchen before spinning around and walking the opposite way, stepping in circles as he tries to wipe his memory of the near-encounter with his past as best as he can allow himself to.

|

“Thank you” Liv remarks, passing her driver an appreciative greeting before departing his backseat, closing the door politely before watching the vehicle she’d arrived in gradually make its way back onto the main road. Cloudy and impossible to ignore, the teenage girl’s breath fogs the air that stands before her as she turns toward the wide, open field her destination was set to, staring out at a set of trees before taking notice of one figure in the near distance.

Pressing her lips together as the same knots in her stomach from earlier in the day return, Liv lets a heavy, expansive cloud of breath leave through her nose as she steps forward, her boots crunching down on the soft layer of snow that shields the dirt field from the bitter chill of the elements. With hands carried at her sides, the girl approaches her meeting’s request-maker with caution, aware of the dangers that may be posed as she keeps her guard raised.

Though it nears closer with each passing step, the figure of the single man in a large, empty field appears no more discernible from any other. Aside from the buzzcut that her apparent host wears and the burgundy-coloured trench coat that he dawns, the man that had gone through greater lengths to receive her attention than necessary finally becomes the focus of Liv’s eyes, her increasingly-loud footsteps prompting the man to turn around with his hands raised in a show of good faith.

“Don’t worry, I’m unarmed” the nerdy-looking citizen calmly remarks, trying his best to present a friendly smile upon his face, which wears a bulky pair of round corner-shaped box-like eyeglasses. Finally given the chance to look the man in the eyes, Liv finds herself surprised at whom she sees standing before her, his inability to stand out from the plethora of faces she’s come to know in life striking her as odd.

“Do I know you?” the girl wonders aloud, squinting investigatively at the man that calls her to the middle of nowhere for what seems like little more than a chat. “You certainly do, but it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t remember who I was” the man replies in a somewhat strangely welcoming manner, his tone of voice much friendlier and warm than the scenery he’d chosen to meet in, “you weren’t little-little when I was around, but you were young enough that my face probably doesn’t ring bells.”

Pulling her head back with as little clarity as she’d entered the conversation, Liv tucks her hands into her pockets and shrugs forward, leaning her chin forward as if to gesture that she’s waiting for context. “Uh, I’m Ian. I worked with your sister on her documentary before she got arrested” the man confesses, reintroducing himself to a girl much more capable of remembering him now than she was then, “does that help any?”

Looking to the ground for a moment as she searches through her mind for anything worthy of being remembered, only one snippet of importance prevails above all else. “Weren’t you the guy that hired the cop to follow my sister?” Liv questions aloud, standing upright once more as the man across from her nods approvingly. “Yes, that- uh... that was me” Ian replies, obviously not taking much pride in the fact of the matter, “it’s a- uh... kind of a shame what happened to him.”

Lowering his head to give himself a better angle to scratch the itch on the back of his neck, Ian turns the conversation around to more fruitful avenues, eyeing something of greater importance. “Anyway, yeah. I sort of figured something was sketchy about your sister’s story and wanted him to do some digging. It’s not like I hoped she was a blood-thirsty killer or anything, I just wanted a deep angle for the documentary” he confesses, dismissing any wrong-doing of his own in spirit.

“Anyway, I got a lot more out of that documentary than I was planning to. Your father doesn’t like me very much, so I had to go about other ways of getting in contact with you” Ian explains, pleading his case to the girl that stands before him, her height the same as the subject of his film years prior was, “it’s been a few years and the calls just keep coming in for more.”

“More?” Liv repeats, a slight narrowing of her eyes preceding her gentle shake of the head, “more what?” Spreading wider than the feigned and slightly unnerving grin he’d met her the first time around, Ian’s smile answers the young woman without words at first, the vocal reply taking a moment to accompany the shift in his demeanour. “That’s why I wanted to meet with you in person” he replies, shrugging his loose and limp shoulders amidst a pause, “that’s the only real way to talk about this.”

== Generation Alpha ==