You move along the old, degraded parts of the wall — the parts that have been here for centuries. Jumping from side to side, you easily move from country to country and back again. It doesn’t matter what side you’re from, you’re free from all that. Your destination looms in front of you, however, there what side you’re from does matter. Its concrete and barbed wire will box you in. Its guards and guns will make you choose a side — make you choose their side. But, of course you’ve made this decision with them countless times before. As you approach, the gate begins to open, they don’t need to ask for your credentials anymore, not with you. The guards welcome you to Hadrian Base.
You see, you were smart. When they came, you didn’t fight them. You were from the border anyway, almost one of them. You befriended them, made the invaders welcome in your country. You sell them trinkets to show that a society still functions outside the walls of their base. You’re there to make them feel like they’re helping and not tearing your country apart.
Entering the base, you know where to go to find the friendly soldiers, the ones that’ll buy the most. Walking through the main courtyard, you make sure to smile as you pass groups of soldiers, most of them smile back. You go up a metal staircase at the other end of the courtyard and into a small room with two sofas, a microwave, a TV and half a dozen soldiers. Most of them are intently watching the TV, there’s a news report claiming the Prime Minister is about to appoint an interim First Minister. They think this is a sign that the war’s winding down, you’re less sure.
Only one of the men acknowledge your entrance, jumping off the farthest sofa and bouncing across the room, Corporal Adam Jameson asks, ‘Do you have what I asked for?’ You do, you pass him a bottle of Scotch and he gives you £40. You look past Jameson to see if anyone else seems interested in buying from you, they’re all still staring at the TV.
‘Adam, what’s so interesting on the telly?’
‘Haven’t you heard? They’re giving your country its very own government again.’
‘Aye, I had heard. Has anything new been announced since this morning?’
‘No, not yet, but there’s about to be something big.’
‘Hey!’ a shout comes across the room, ‘shut the fuck up, Adam! And get the hell out, Haggistani!’ You think you ought to leave at this point, you wave to Adam as you turn the go out the way you came in.
As you’re going down the stairs, one of the soldiers, a man you think is named Harrison (although you’re not sure if that’s his first or last name), calls out to you, ‘Hey you!’ You think you must be in trouble, noticing his hand resting on his gun, ‘You wanna see something cool?’
‘Aye,’ you nod, ‘I guess.’
You’re taken through a series of corridors and locked doors. It’s cramped and dark and you are sure that you should not be back here. You end up in a small, windowless office, You’re alone with Harrison. He points at a CCTV monitor and asks you, ‘do you know who that is?’ Looking at the screen, you make out a man in a green and yellow jumpsuit but nothing that identifies him so you shake your head. ‘That’s John Ferguson,’ Harrison beams, ‘the mastermind behind the Clyde attack. Bet you’d like to have a few words with him, eh? The man responsible for plunging you country into war.’
You want to argue back. There was no attack at Clyde. The war only happened because of their invasion, their warmongering. But you remember where you are, you remember that you are smart. You keep quiet.
‘Oh so you got no words for the terrorist?’ He steps closer to you, ‘maybe you’re not who we thought you were. Maybe you think he’s a hero. Maybe you’d like to shake his hand, and dance in a tartan skirt with him and share some sheep shit haggis–‘
‘Haggis is no sheep shit.’ Why did you say that? That wasn’t smart. Should’ve kept quiet.
He chuckles, ‘All right then. Do you want to go now?’
You nod.
Putting his arm round your back, Harrison says he doesn’t want you coming back on the base then guides you back to the front gate. You turn to see him whisper in the ear of another soldier, one you don’t recognise, before glancing back at you.
Heading out the gate, you don’t smile back to the guard as he lets you out. You’re distracted by your thoughts — they think you’re a terrorist sympathiser — they’ll be watching you — you need to leave the country. You stay firmly on the North side of the old wall, careful not to cross onto their side. They think you’re a terrorist. You’re being paranoid, you haven’t done anything. They’re watching you. If you just keep doing things as you normally would, keep to your routine, that’s the smart thing to do. You need to leave the country.
This was partially written as a response to a lecture by Sandeep Parmar as well as a few other things I’ve been thinking & reading about recently.
Edward Haynes 