The war on disease was a war on color (Excerpt from ‘Dancing in the Purple Rain’ included)

Sometimes, the best ideas for world-building and our novel settings come from external sources.

But I never thought that a course on writing male voices as a female writer would lead to thoughts and ideas that play with color.

The war on disease was a war on color

There was a line that I wrote early on when drafting Dancing in the Purple Rain that took on multiple layers of meaning as the manuscript went through its rewrites.

The line in question is found in Chapter 5 (included below).

The line:

It was like the mission to eradicate disease raged a war on color—and color lost.

When I first wrote that line, I had the boring decor found in many hospitals in mind: white walls, white ceilings, and white floors. And no color found anywhere. Of course, there are some hospitals built today that have color incorporated into the design, but that is not always the case.

But I wanted this world to have “color” in the “outside” world, outside of Sector 14, the main health sector. And the line seemed to fit so beautifully with this health-versus-outside concept.

When I shared snippets of the manuscript with a writing coach (one who was giving me insights into the different ways in which males and females think), there was an additional layer of meaning that got added to that line—and it went beyond the sterile nature of Sector 14. I don’t want to tell you what it is now, because it is actually a major plot point and something that makes my main character realize what the true evil is in her world.

But as you read this line (and the rest of Chapter 5), just know that there are multiple layers to that line—layers that get added on as the story progresses.

Enjoy.

(Chapter 5 is 3,260 words.)

If you missed the previous chapters, you can find them at the following links.

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4

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Chapter 5 from Dancing in the Purple Rain

The Rhodon building where our briefings were held was filled with the boring monochromatic humdrum of a sterile environment. White walls with white ceilings and white floors. There wasn’t even the color of photos on the walls, like one saw in those old vid-recordings from before the health reforms of 2096. It was like the mission to eradicate disease raged a war on color—and color lost.

We navigated the monochromatic maze, passing by monochromatic people. White lab coats and black pants, and their black or blond hair. A hint of color leaked into the world through the stripes running down the sleeves of those wearing black uniforms. Blue and yellow. But everyone cleared the path for those wearing the purple stripes with brightly colored hair. We had the elevator to the lower levels to ourselves.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, George groaned. “Have you ever noticed how the only real color in this joint seems to be blue and yellow? It’s like no one has heard of the color red.” He shook his head, exaggerating his latest dye job. “Only the other day, I caught the gardeners pulling out a red rose bush and destroying it. Like anything but white roses was a crime.”

“Painting the roses white?”

“Off with their heads,” we said together, then laughed. But he had a point.

There was a soft ding as the elevator doors opened to the main security level. An unusual bustling of activity filled the hall. Those with blue stripes lined the walls in pairs, fully armed, their eyes following those who walked by them. Technicians with their yellow stripes darted past the guards in groups, yammering in their coded language as they tapped into the empty space in front of them and disappeared through holographic walls.

A tactical unit in full gear ran down the hall, forcing George and me, and anyone else who wasn’t part of the unit, to press up against the wall in the spaces between the guards.

I reached up to my radio receiver, double checking that I was connected to the main security channel; the channel was filled with the normal chatter. “What’s going on?”

George shook his head. “Don’t know, but whatever it is, I don’t want to know. Let’s just get to the briefing.”

We resumed our trek through the bustling halls to a small briefing room located at the end of a long corridor. The door was closed and locked, requiring the appropriate security authorization to open the door. This was standard practice for a PentWave briefing. The Pregutor couldn’t have just anyone knowing about our terrorist tactics.

I stepped closer to the door and pressed my right hand and wrist to the scanner. A blue light sprang to life to scan my eyes. Why were some security scans happy with just my pharmachip while others required more? It was like the designers wanted to ensure that only those conscious and living were able to open certain doors—a rather important detail for anyone taking part in the activities that occurred on the other side of these doors.

There was a small click, followed by a slight hiss, as a portion of the wall withdrew and slid to the side. With the path now unhindered, George and I stepped inside.

The team room was almost the exact opposite to the hall outside. Its black walls seemed to absorb the ambient light. Those wearing black uniforms melted into the background, even with the purple stripes running down their arms. If someone stood perfectly still, their presence would go unnoticed, until what little light was in the room reflected off their eyes. Digital displays adorned the walls, showing maps of the city, with colored lines of blue and yellow separating the city into fourteen sectors. George nudged my shoulder and pointed to the maps. He wore an expression of “See.” Vid-recordings were scattered around the maps, showing security camera feeds from around the city, continuously hunting for threats that needed to be neutralized.

While I could never work out how the Pregutor determined which threats to neutralize (and which to ignore), I knew how the members of PentWave were selected. Every single one of us suffered from White Rabbit syndrome, diagnosed as children and sent to isolation camps, while the geneticists and doctors worked on a cure. Responding well to treatments, each member of PentWave was given special training, so one day we could protect the city as a form of payment for the treatments we had been given. It was our audimentia that united us. And it was the promise of ongoing medical treatment that kept us loyal to the Pregutor, despite the nature of the packages we delivered.

I held my hands tightly to my sides, determined to hide the shakes. There was no way I wanted the others to know about my audimensase levels. It was bad enough that George knew about the voices.

There was another hiss of the door as a pure white figure strode in. Tam stood out in their white suit, their pale complexion, and snow-white hair. Even Tam’s eyes were white with little black dots for the pupils. An albino, as it was once called, though Tam didn’t have any of the other traits that went along with albinism based on what I had read. Tam’s vision was as sharp as anyone’s. At times, Tam looked more like a ghost. It didn’t help that the low light levels created this iridescent glow around their person. The more I interacted with Tam, the more the definition of human was stretched.

“Good morning, everyone.” Tam passed a data rod to one of the team members. “Please load this for me.” They then turned to face George and myself. “George, a quick word.”

George followed Tam into the corner of the room. When Tam spoke, they ensured that their back was to the rest of us, and they spoke in whispered tones, quiet enough that none of us could hear what was being said. But whatever it was caused George’s shoulders to sag as he hung his head. He then nodded and headed for the door.

Before he left, he placed his hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to look at him. “Remember your promise.” There was an intensity in his eyes: determination mixed with fear. I wanted to ask him what was going on, but I didn’t dare—not with everyone in the room watching our little exchange.

Aware of the accusing eyes trained on me, I nodded. “I will.”

George then tried to smile. As he headed out of the room, he was instantly surrounded by guards. My breath caught in the back of my throat and my heart rate sped up. Before I could fully process the implication of the guards, Tam sealed the room.

They stood next to the main digital display and pressed their hand and wrist to the wall. They then looked at each of us in turn, daring us to question what we saw, but no one said a word.

It was one of the things I admired about Tam. They exuded a level of command that made it perfectly clear who was in charge. No one spoke unless given permission to speak.

“Michaella, this is for you.” Tam held a small medical dispenser spray unit designed to inject a measured dose of medication directly into the bloodstream. “Pull back your hair, please.”

I did as I was told, exposing my carotid artery. The cold unit was pressed to my neck, and there was a slight hiss and a pinch. A cooling sensation filled my veins. The sense of relief was almost instantaneous. It would still take a few minutes for the drug to take full effect, but the shakes were gone . . . as was the hum inside my head.

“I expect you to be more diligent in the future.” Tam pocketed the dispenser unit.

“Yes, Tam. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize—not to me, anyway.”

The others glared at me, like they were getting ready to lecture me about putting them all in danger.

“Now that you are all here, we have important matters to discuss. In the last week, each of you delivered a package to one of these locations.” Tam tapped out a sequence into the empty space before them, and location dots overlaid the city map. Eight dots in total, including one that would have aligned with the coffee shop in Sector 4. “Each of you performed your duty admirably. However, there was one drop that was problematic at best.”

Tam tapped out another sequence into the space in front of them. The display zoomed in on Sector 5, one of the outskirt sectors, but one that was well maintained. Sector 5 was where all the city imports and exports happened. It was where the truckers worked, delivering goods to the city from outside manufacturing facilities and transporting any pharmaceuticals manufactured in Crystal Hills to the rest of the world. No one lived in Sector 5; it was too dangerous with all the potential exposure to disease from the outside world. And only those with top-level health records could work there. Like Sector 14, the health scanning of those going in and out of the sector was incredibly strict. And like Sector 14, an outbreak in the sector could spell certain doom for the city.

“The drop was supposed to occur at BioShipping. They are a small exporter, one that specializes in the transportation of hazardous biowaste to the facility at Eudurvinna for safe disposal. It turns out that they were exporting more than just biowaste. The owner of BioShipping has been smuggling out of the city those infected with flurona. We do not know how those with flurona have been able to get into Sector 5, but because these people have been allowed to roam freely, there are now massive outbreaks in Eudurvinna and Lagniappe Fields. The Pregutor sent an undercover operative to learn more about the operations and to ultimately remove BioShipping from the equation. Three days ago, the operative put in a request for the equipment needed to execute the removal. Unfortunately, the drop did not go as planned, and the operative was found dead this morning with a message pinned to his chest.”

The image on the screen changed, bringing up the photo of a dead body with a clear view of the operative’s face.

The short woman next to me gasped. “That’s Lucas.”

I glanced at the tiny woman next to me. Jody Kristensen. She was the only other female on our team, but talk about a powerhouse when she wanted to be. It was Jody’s motto: the deadliest things known to mankind came in the tiniest of packages. And when it came to Jody, I believed it. She only came up to my shoulder, and she used that size difference to her advantage. But Jody was also a gentle, caring soul, one that was desperate to find love and companionship in this meager life that we led. At one point, Jody found that love in one of our trainers, though it didn’t last long.

“Are you sure?” I searched the image of the deceased man for signs of the curly locks and the boyish rough exterior that had once graced the face of one of my trainers.

Jody nodded, keeping her eyes on the display. The little amount of light in the room caught the glistening that hung in the corners of her eyes.

“Jody is right,” Tam said. “Lucas Tellis. Former PentWave courier until he was promoted to trainer, then field operative. And according to the medical examiner, his death was not a peaceful one. Whoever killed Lucas injected him with Floxdronolin, a biological weapon designed to thicken the blood to the point where it no longer flows. Once exposed, death is a certainty.”

Scuffling feet sounded around the room. If Lucas was unable to save himself from a brutal attack of this nature, what hope did the rest of us have?

“What about the note?” someone asked from the other side of the room. From the sounds of the deep timbres, it was Marcus Gahan, the meanest, badass bully that I had ever met. He always had to prove that he was the toughest kid on the playground. But for some unknown reason, he stayed clear of me. All I had to do was stare at him, wishing that he would leave me alone . . . and he would.

The image changed on the display to show a closeup of the note found with Lucas’s body. ››Abram Shutton’s son lives.‹‹

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marcus asked. “Dr. Shutton doesn’t have a son. Or does he?”

Tam took a deep breath. “The fact that Dr. Shutton may or may not have a son is of little consequence. What is important is the level of doubt and mistrust that this message has managed to sow in such a short period of time.”

The video display shifted to the security footage from one of the transport companies inside Sector 5. Trucks were lined up, blocking the roads in and out of the sector. And one by one, the drivers got out of their trucks and disappeared off camera.

“When asked, the drivers all said the same thing. They fear that the one responsible would come after them next. And they all fear that the one responsible is Dr. Abram Shutton’s son.”

“You said that the courier drop went wrong,” I said. “What do we know about the drop itself?”

A vid-recording from a security camera near the entrance for BioShipping came up on the display. The courier came into view and stood at the corner of the building, obscured by the shadows.

Even though there was no uniform as such for couriers outside of Sector 14, there was a commonality to the way we all dressed, namely the colorful oversized, RDF signal-blocking jacket with the hood that hung low over our eyes, the glasses with seals activated that protected the eyes from the elements, and the breather mask. We also wore black leatherette gloves, made from the finest synthetic material that Rhodon Corporation could get their hands on. It wasn’t for warmth, but rather to ensure we didn’t leave prints on the packages themselves. The gloves added a layer of cover on our pharmachips, too, in case the sleeves of our jackets were lifted and exposed that part of their wrists to the security drones.

Even though we had all been trained in surveillance avoidance tactics, able to hide our identities from standard security, we all knew who it was on the screen.

George.

I closed my eyes and hung my head. I knew the security guards surrounding him couldn’t mean anything good.

“Who is that?” Jody asked.

She wasn’t referring to George, but rather to the other hooded figure that the courier on the screen was talking to. The courier’s movements were jerky, almost like George had been resistant, but eventually George handed over the package, and the second hooded figure disappeared. However, George just stood there, not moving. His actions didn’t make any sense. The moment he made the drop, he should have been hightailing it out of there, making a beeline for the sector checkpoint.

Another hooded figure appeared on the screen, coming from the opposite direction that the hooded figure in possession of the package had disappeared. There was a short verbal exchange between George and the new hooded figure—though no sound was recorded—followed by a sense of desperation as George patted down his person.

Marcus whistled. “Holy shit. George delivered the package to the wrong person. How the fuck could he make such a stupid mistake?”

“And who did he actually deliver the package to?” Jody asked.

“Both are good questions,” Tam said, “and both of them do not have an answer at this time. We are hoping that George managed to get a good look at the unknown.”

Nervous fears threatened to take over my thoughts. “I don’t think it really matters who he handed the package over to. I think it’s more important that we find out how this unknown made George forget he handed over the package in the first place.”

“Why would you think he forgot about the package?” Marcus asked. There was a hint of accusation in his voice, like he was challenging me to reveal something that I shouldn’t. Not that I had a clue what he wanted revealed to the world at large.

I pursed my lips and tilted my head to the side. “Tam, could you please rewind and show the drop again?”

Tam pinched their fingers in the air and waved the video back to the start of the sequence, when George stood there waiting.

I inhaled and exhaled in a controlled manner as I moved to the front of the team room and stood next to Tam. “We all know it’s George we’re looking at. We can’t see his face, but we know his mannerisms. The way he stands. The way he bounces and fidgets when he’s waiting for something.” I waved my hand to fast forward past the exchange with the unknown, then with exaggerated arm motions, the image zoomed in on the courier. “Standard protocol for courier drops is to disappear the moment the drop is made. Don’t linger for any reason. Yet George is just standing there—doing nothing. Not even bouncing up and down while he waits. It’s like he’s catatonic until the real drop arrives.” The video footage zoomed back out to the full view, then continued to play. “Watch carefully the way he starts patting down his person. It was a small package he was delivering. We saw the delivery. But a package that size could be stored in any one of five pockets inside our jackets. We all tend to use the same pockets, but how many of you have placed small packages in a different pocket in a hurry?”

“I’ve done that,” Jody said.

“And what did you do when you discovered that the package wasn’t where you expected it to be?”

Jody smirked. “I patted myself down, trying to feel for the lump.”

Marcus wove around the table to stand next to me. He gestured for the footage of the delivery and the pat-down to replay. After walking it through in slow motion—and in reverse—Marcus scowled. “George might be an idiot, but he’s not so incompetent that he would forget about a delivery. Not while on the job, anyway.”

An uneasy silence fell over the room. There were times when the treatments for audimentia would result in temporary memory loss. Normally, it was only the short-term memory affected, but Rhodon Corporation had developed treatments and technologies to help restore memory function. That had to be where George was right now: getting treatment for memory loss.

I took a few deep breaths and faced the others. “We need to find this unknown, and we need to find them fast.”

The others just stared at me. Some wore furrowed brows that demanded more answers, while others possessed eyes that widened with fear. But Tam’s expression was calm, with a slight smile. It was their expression of approval, like I had hit the exact area of concern that threatened us all.

There was someone out there with the ability to make people do things, then forget that they did them.

This unknown was like me.

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This is the last chapter that you’ll be getting as a sneak peek. But if you want to know what happens next in the story, you don’t have to wait.

Dancing in the Purple Rain is available NOW!

If you enjoyed the chapters that I’ve shared, then I’m sure that you will enjoy the entire novel.