by Alex Scarrow
Griggs spat a curse. His eyes narrowed. ‘That’s not what you really care about.’
‘Frasier …’
‘You know what I think this is about? Vengeance. Bitterness. You can’t bring your wife and son back so you –’
‘ENOUGH!’ Waldstein glared at Griggs. He pulled the man by his arm. ‘You and I need to talk, Frasier. We need to talk right now.’
Joseph watched, dumbstruck by the suddenly charged atmosphere in the room, as both men stepped out of the lab into the small adjoining conference room. The glass door hissed shut behind them and their voices became muted. He saw Griggs’s face darken with anger, and he heard their muffled voices, quiet at first, but then quickly rising in volume and pitch, getting louder and louder.
Then finally that word. Pandora. And … Why, Roald? Why do you want that to happen?
Chapter 32
13 September 2001, Interstate 90, Newton, Massachusetts
‘Where did she go?’
Becks looked at him, a growing expression of anxiety on her face. ‘Maddy … said she was going to get some supplies.’
‘Said … she said … so maybe she wasn’t?’
The support unit could only look at Liam plaintively. He grasped her slim arms firmly. Arms that easily could have shrugged off his grasp and twisted his head off his shoulders if she had the notion to do so. ‘Becks! Come on! Where’s she really gone?’
‘She … said –’
‘She’s gone to her old home, hasn’t she?’
Becks looked conflicted, torn between an instruction to lie and a logical imperative to speak the truth.
Liam cursed. ‘I knew it!’
‘That is an unwise action,’ said Bob. His cool eyes looked around the others gathered in the girls’ motel room. ‘The pursuing support units may also attempt to travel to the same location.’
‘I don’t think we could’ve stopped her,’ said Sal. ‘I think she’s too close to home to not try to see them. She really misses her family.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘I know it’s what I’d want to do.’
‘And I miss me own ma and da just as much!’ said Liam. ‘But Bob’s right – that’s a stupid thing she’s gone an’ done! I should have known she’d do this!’
‘What if they’re clever,’ said Rashim. ‘What if they don’t attack her there, but instead follow her back here?’
‘Exactly!’ said Liam. ‘She could lead them right to us all!’
Just then a key clicked and rattled in the motel room’s door. All heads turned as the door opened and daylight stretched across the mottled pattern of the room’s threadbare carpet.
Maddy.
‘Perfect timing!’ said Liam. ‘We were wondering …’ His voice tailed off. She stood in the doorway staring back at all of them. On any other occasion he would have expected her to do a double-take at them all staring wide-mouthed at her and irritably snap ‘What’s up?’ But instead she stepped slowly in, kicking the door shut behind her. She sat down on the end of the bed and stared listlessly at the blank glass screen of the TV set, reflecting her own sullen expression back at her.
‘Maddy?’ said Sal. ‘You OK?’
No answer.
Liam could see her eyes were red-raw beneath her glasses. Her cheeks were wet. She was crying. He sat on the bed beside her. ‘Maddy?’
‘She appears to be distressed,’ said Bob.
Liam waved him silent. ‘Maddy? Is everything all right?’ She shook her head silently.
Liam didn’t dare ask the next question. But it needed asking all the same. ‘Maddy? Your family … are they all right? They’re not hurt in any –?’
‘They’re not my family,’ she muttered.
‘Uh?’
‘Not my family,’ she said again. She turned from her dim reflection in the TV screen. ‘And they never were.’
Liam leaned in closely to her. ‘Maddy? What do you mean? What’s the matter?’
He’d never seen her like this before, not even when things had seemed at their worst, not even that first day when they’d all met in the darkness of the archway, freshly plucked from the very last moments of their lives. This wasn’t normal Maddy: stressed, irritated, annoyed or frustrated. This was a totally alien Maddy Carter: utterly crushed, defeated.
Sal got up off the chair by the door and knelt on the floor in front of her. She could see it in her face too; this was Maddy right at the end of her game. She reached out for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Tell us what happened?’
‘I … I’ve worked it out,’ she said, her voice a mucus-thick whisper.
‘Worked what out?’
She looked at Liam. ‘I’ve worked out who we are.’
‘Who we are?’ He frowned. Confused.
‘Or more to the point,’ she added, ‘I’ve figured out what we are.’
‘What we are?’ Liam turned to the others, then back at Maddy. ‘What in the name of Jesus an’ Mary are you talkin’ about?’
‘Shadd-yah!’ Sal muttered under her breath.
Liam looked at her. The one eye of hers not hidden by her looping fringe had suddenly widened with realization. She seemed to have some inkling of what Maddy was talking about. ‘What, Sal? What’s she mean by that?’
‘We’re not who we thought we were, Liam,’ said Maddy.
‘Not who we …’ His brows locked. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Your life is just a lie, Liam … a story,’ said Maddy. ‘Fiction.’
‘Maddy? What happened?’ asked Sal.
Maddy laughed. More a wet snort of snot mixed with tears. ‘They obviously didn’t expect we’d come looking for the truth. Why would they?’ She took her glasses off and wiped at her eyes. ‘I mean, Foster made such a big thing of it, didn’t he? That we should be dead already … that this extra life was like a bonus or something. A gift.’
Liam nodded. Of course he had. The old man made no bones about that. There’d been a choice right at the end of their old lives: not much of a choice admittedly, but a choice nonetheless. He could have gone down with the Titanic if he’d wanted, but he’d chosen to join Foster.
‘We all chose it, Maddy,’ said Liam. ‘Right at the end, when he saved us all.’
She laughed. A miserable, choking sound. She shook her head. ‘But that’s the point! We didn’t!’
‘Didn’t?’ Liam hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. ‘Yes, I did. I chose to –’
‘No … no, you didn’t,’ said Sal quietly. Nodding. She understood now. ‘Or me … I didn’t either.’ Her one visible eye was beginning to spill glistening tears on to her dark cheek.
‘Ah Jay-zus! You crying too? What’s up with you both? Why’re you crying? What is goin’ on here?’
‘None of us chose to join this agency in the last moments of our lives, Liam,’ said Maddy. ‘Because none of that ever happened.’
Sal’s head dropped, her face dipped out of sight. He could see her shoulders heaving gently. He looked around. The only other person here who seemed utterly bewildered by all of this was Rashim. He offered Liam a sympathetic shrug that seemed to say, I got no idea what they’re talking about either.
‘Our memories, Liam … everything we thought were memories of our lives before the archway, before we were recruited …’ Maddy’s chin dimpled as fresh tears streamed down her face. ‘Everything. My home, my mom, my dad, my school, my job … they’re all lies. They’re phoney.’
‘Information: memory implants.’ Even Bob seemed to have an understanding of what she was saying now.
Maddy nodded. ‘Faked memories. Our lives are just made up. I never lived in Boston. Sal never lived in India. And you …’ Her voice faltered. ‘Oh, Liam, you never came from Ireland.’
‘But …’ Liam bit his lip. ‘But I’m from Cork! I know I am! I’m … that’s … what kind of nonsense do you think you’re –’
‘We didn’t come from those places. We never lived there; we never even set foot in any of those places.’
‘I get it.’ Sal’s soft voice drifted up through the drooping curtain of her hair. ‘We came right out of three giant test-tubes.’
Maddy nodded. She reached out and rested a hand on Sal’s shoulder. A reciprocated gesture of comfort.
‘Do you get it, Liam? Do you see?’ said Sal. ‘We’re support units.’
Chapter 33
2055, W.G. Systems Research Campus, near Pinedale, Wyoming
‘Can I trust you, Joseph?’
Joseph Olivera lurched. That question came right out of nowhere and caught him entirely off guard. Waldstein was standing beside him in the lab, seemingly emerging from thin air.
‘Wh-what? Yes! Of … of course, Mr Waldstein.’
A long, uncomfortable moment.
‘I’m so very sorry about what happened to Frasier. He was the closest thing to a friend I have.’ He shrugged. ‘Had.’ He sighed. ‘God, I’ve known him for nearly ten years.’
Joseph swallowed compulsively. He had the suspicion that an aura of guilt was glowing around him: a scintillating sparkle of betrayal giving away his secret intentions to Waldstein’s deep penetrative gaze.
‘The argument the other day … I’m sorry you had to see that. That was unfortunate. I wish Frasier and I hadn’t fought like that. I …’ Waldstein looked away. ‘And I truly wish that hadn’t been the last time we spoke.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But he had doubts, Joseph. Doubts about this project. Even if that awful attack on the road hadn’t happened to him, he would have had to leave us.’
Joseph nodded.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking it would be a sensible precaution to deposit some more pre-growth embryos back in the San Francisco drop point.’ Waldstein nodded to himself. ‘Yes, we should arrange that. As soon as is possible. Get some ready to transport.’
‘Go back there? Again? Are you sure?’
‘I know, Joseph. It’s risky. But I suspect they’re going to get through more support units than I originally anticipated. You know … when we were setting up the 2001 team, I was half convinced they’d never actually be needed – that they’d be just sitting there kicking their heels. That I was overreacting, being paranoid. Worrying too much about other time travellers out there wanting to destabilize our timeline!’ He shook his head. ‘I realize now maybe I wasn’t paranoid enough!’
‘Yes, sir.’ Joseph checked their inventory on the holo-screen in front of him. There were two dozen embryos on ice: part of the batch being readied for the US military’s field-testing programme. ‘How many would you want me to prepare?’
‘Let’s give them half a dozen. Maybe send them some of both types of hybrid; the heavy-duty model and the female recon model. Might as well give them a few of each.’
Listed on the screen were the other clones, who were nothing at all to do with the US military. ‘What about the pure-clone models? The Madelaines, Liams … the Saleenas?’
Waldstein gave it a moment’s thought. ‘No … if we send back pre-growths of themselves they’ll know what they are. We were very lucky with that first team. Very lucky that the Liam unit played along with us and kept the new team from finding out what they are.’
‘It’s part of his programming. He’s loyal. Duty oriented. That’s his personality template.’
‘But even with your programming, Joseph, they’re not a hundred per cent reliable, are they?’
Joseph shrugged. ‘They have the capacity for independent will. That’s what makes them better –’
‘– tactical decision-makers, I know. But when all’s said and done, unlike the military hybrids, those three are just like real people, aren’t they? They’re like real kids. If they ever found out they were products? Good God, who knows what they’d do?’ Waldstein sighed. ‘I do sometimes wonder if what we’ve done is … a cruel thing: created three children who-never-were and then gave them this sort of burden. If that was me,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘if I discovered that was my lot, I think I would almost certainly turn on my maker.’
Joseph nodded.
‘No, they’ll have to be on their own. We can’t send back pure-clone embryos. If it happens again – if another one of them dies …’ Waldstein shrugged. ‘Then I’m afraid they’ll have to work around that problem.’ He sighed. ‘There’s only so much we can do for them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘So, if you could organize that? Prep some embryos and ready them for transport?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Waldstein looked out of the lab’s small window, a long moment of deliberation before he finally spoke again. ‘And I’ll take them back myself. But this has to be the last time we go back to assist them with supplies. The last time I go back. It’s getting too damned dangerous.’
Joseph looked at him. ‘Perhaps …?’
‘What?’
Be very careful, Joseph.
‘P-perhaps … this project has already become too dangerous, Mr Waldstein?’
The old man stared at him for a moment. Joseph wondered what thoughts were thrashing around behind those intense eyes. He struggled to keep his composure. ‘I … I just wonder if things have become –’
‘We don’t have much of a choice in the matter. This has to work. You understand that, don’t you?’
Joseph could hardly meet his eyes. ‘But …’
‘There are no buts, Joseph. We’re the first and the last line of defence. Do you understand? Do you honestly think we’re the only people in the world right now with viable time-travel technology? I’m not a fool. Yes, there’s a law now: ILA Ruling 234. A draconian law. But I’m not naive enough to think there aren’t people out there quietly working on time travel all the same.’
‘Yes, Mr Waldstein.’
He leaned over and squeezed Joseph’s shoulder affectionately. ‘You’ve seen for yourself what our team in the past have narrowly prevented.’
Joseph looked at the small window. Outside that window, beyond the reach of their laboratory stasis field, he’d witnessed a time wave arrive and leave behind it an irradiated wasteland. Just for a few minutes it had been there – a hellish landscape – then washed away by another wave moments later.
‘I know this isn’t an ideal world –’ Waldstein laughed drily at that understatement – ‘but there are an infinite number of possibilities far worse.’ Waldstein squeezed his shoulder again. ‘Trust me. Just stay the course. You’re a good man, Joseph. I know I can trust you. I know that.’
‘Th-thank you, sir.’
He got up off the stool and stepped away. Other matters appeared to be on his mind. ‘I have a damned meeting I need to attend in Denver tomorrow. W.G. Systems’ investors, some of our major clients. I could do without that right now, but …’ He sighed. ‘It’s one I really do have to be at.’ Waldstein looked harried, stretched, like plastic wrap over the hard corners of a box, pulled taut to the point of ripping.
‘I know things have been difficult recently, Joseph. I … I wish Frasier was here with us still. It’s … well, what happened to him was horrible. I suppose it’s a sign of these awful times. You know, I sometimes think we deserve this hopeless world. All our mistakes have finally come home to roost, haven’t they?’
Joseph nodded, and Waldstein looked like his train of thought was heading off in some other direction. ‘Just you and me running this project now.’
‘Yes, Mr Waldstein.’
‘We need to keep things going. To keep things on track. All the hard work’s been done now. All we need to do now is just make sure our team can continue doing their job. I’m sure they’ll be fine back there.’ He smiled. ‘They’re good kids. I’m so proud of them. And you too, Joseph. They’re as much your creations as they are anyone else’s.’
‘Thank you.’
Waldstein nodded and turned to go.
‘Mr Waldstein?’
‘Yes?’
‘When will you want the embryos ready by?’
H
e sucked in a breath. ‘I hate doing this, you know? Having to step into that white mist. Knowing that it’s killing me cell by cell. Knowing that every time we open a goddamn portal we’re broadcasting our presence to those who might be looking for it.’
‘That worries me too, Mr Waldstein.’
‘And this, then, will have to be the last time. They’re on their own after this.’ Waldstein sighed. ‘Have the embryos good to go for this evening, will you? Let’s get it done and out of the way.’ He nodded to himself. ‘This evening.’
‘I will have them ready.’
‘Thank you. And after that … hopefully the Saleena unit will be ready to drop back in Brooklyn?’
‘She’ll need another thirteen hours, I think, to full growth. Then I’ll need a few hours to upload and configure her new memory.’
‘Fine, as soon as she’s ready get her sent back. You’ll be OK doing that on your own?’
‘Of … of course, Mr Waldstein.’ Joseph tapped his h-pad. ‘I have the insertion data-stamp as we discussed: outside the archway, directly after the 1941 corrective wave. I have it all ready.’
Waldstein nodded. ‘Of course.’ He sighed, trying a weary morale-raising smile. ‘Then that’ll be all our messy housekeeping done. Back on an even keel, as I think the saying goes.’
Joseph watched Waldstein go. Then, finally alone in the lab, he took in a deep breath and let it out.
Jesus.
He recalled a couple of things Waldstein had said. Things that had echoed what Griggs had been fixating on.
We deserve this hopeless world? We need to keep things on track?
Frasier Griggs was right. He was certain of it now. Quite certain that beneath his carefully orchestrated enigmatic composure, withstanding his publicly declared ambition to save mankind from itself – Waldstein had quietly gone insane. The man seemed utterly intent on steering the ship on to the rocks, not away from them. Intent on steering mankind towards its own demise.
Pandora.
Joseph realized it was all down to one person. Himself. Griggs had been foolish and confronted Waldstein directly. Now he was dead. Perhaps he could smuggle a warning to the team, just something to alert them to whatever this ‘Pandora’ was that Waldstein was attempting to preserve. Something discreet. A note. Something.