I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, my head just wants some peace, some respite, but I know I need to, because even now I can see the walls of the church wobble, even now I can feel myself slipping from this, and that’s bad, because I know that this isn’t where I’m meant to be, and if I know that logically I am supposed to be somewhere, and somehow that’s important, but where and why are just beyond me. Where and why are so far beyond me that.
I have faith though.
Somehow, I have faith. It means nothing, but it’s still there.
“And congratulations” says a deep voice behind me, I swivel to see and that’s when the walls of the church choose to stop wobbling, and actually dissolve, and that’s when I
That’s when I don’t do anything.
Except for a hand, rubbing, no, caressing, my neck, slowly, gently, a gentle, soft hand, a calm and soothing purr and this time I don’t try to open my eyes, even though I know that this is definitely not where I should be, except that it’s so calm and so peaceful that does it really matter, can I just take that one tiny step forward that would really make all, all of the difference?
“John?” the voice is no more than a whisper, “John, open your eyes, here” and then, “drink a little of this, it will really help” and the liquid that touches my lips really does help, it clears a small cloud in my brain, a tiny pool that I can see, and outside I can feel, though of course I can’t see, my cracked lips break into a smile for even though I know I am so far from it I do understand that it is possible, that you can actually feel blissful, blissfully happy, and what is that?
“John”
Slowly, painfully, I let my eyes open and adjust to the brightness around me, somehow I need to shake myself away from the dream, from the feeling, from the isolation, I think.
I’m squinting, I can’t really see, there’s something very sharp and very bright in front of me, something that refuses to come into focus until I really
The throbbing pain in my head that refuses to go away
Images that blur
There’s a woman’s face.
“John.”
“Ruth?” my voice is cracked.
“John, how are you feeling?”
“Why are we in a church?”
“Excuse me?”
I was sure we were in a church. Maybe we’re getting married, maybe Ruth and I are finally, after all these years, the break ups, bust ups, reconciliation, love and laughter, after all the holidays and the romantic trips to the sea, after the candle lit dinners, after the harsh words, fights and flying plates, maybe after all this time, finally, we are here. Maybe I really do love her. But can I really commit myself? After all I have done and all I still have to do, can I really, honestly give myself to one person? Why, why have I made this decision? Why, do I really want to hurt someone again. I am going to have to let her down
“Ruth…”
“Time to wake up, John, we really need to talk.”
There are two of them, not just Ruth, but someone else, she’s still slightly hazy, but she’s younger, prettier, she has long, blond hair, that she sweeps majestically away from her face, away from her razor blue eyes, maybe it’s her that I’m marrying, maybe that’s a better choice?
“John, I want you to meet my boss, this is Jane Darby.”
Now I notice we’re not in a church, we must have left. We are in a white room, and in fact everything is white, their clothes, the furniture, the walls, the floor, the, in fact I can’t think of any more, so I stretch to get up but I can’t, I can’t seem to move, my arms in fact seem to be tied down, in fact they are, in fact I am strapped into this sleek and wonderfully comfortable white leather armchair, facing these two beautiful women. Ruth isn’t beautiful actually. Jane is though.
“Hello Jane.”
Jane gives me a terse smile and turns to Ruth. “Does he need it?”
Ruth nods, wistfully I think. “Yes I think so, he can be quite unpredictable otherwise.”
“OK then” sighs Jane, and Ruth takes something out of her white jacket, leans over and pushes it into my mouth. Of course I don’t resist, I manage to lick her fingers as well and she gives me a small smile. Swallowing, I ask “what was that?”
Ruth chuckles. “A happy pill, of course. Now, John, I am afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you”
“We’re not getting married?”
“Er…”
“No.” I close my eyes. “What I meant to say was, when are we going to the party?”
“OK John” Ruth starts slowly. “There isn’t a party, I’m sorry. The party has been cancelled. We need…”
She’s cut short by Jane, “What we mean, Mr Paris, is that you have been kidnapped. Ruth is a plant. She always was. You belong to us now.”
I turn to look at Ruth. She gives me an apologetic smile. Somehow it actually makes sense. She never really was credible. But I’m here, so I may as well play along.
“It was all a lie?”
“I’m afraid so” whispers Ruth. “Well, I did enjoy it, actually. Especially the sex”
“Yeah, that was good” Jane adds. “We had you under surveillance” she adds by way of explanation.
“So…? Maybe I shouldn’t have shown you everything about my work?”
“We were a little surprised about how open you were” Jane replies in her flat, short voice. I’m not sure I like her that much. “We were going to pull you in earlier, but we thought it may be easier to get more information out of you that way. And of course, Ruth was enjoying herself.”
Ruth winks at me.
“Anyway, you know what we want” Jane starts.
“I do?”
“Yes of course you do”
“Money?” I ask. “I have lots of money."
“Don’t be stupid. We all have lots of money.”
“Sex?” I ask.
“Well, maybe, but we would consider that secondary.”
“Actually” I would really love to scratch my head, but I can’t move my arms. “Who are you? I don’t even know that. And, can I have a drink please. And, why don’t you untie me? I really am not going to run away.”
Jane coughs. “We are the IIS. I’m sure you know who that is. Yes you can have a drink, and yes we will untie you.” The straps around my arms disappear suddenly, and there’s a glass by my side. I reach for it gratefully, and try to hide my disappointment when I realise that it’s only water.
I have no idea, by the way, who the IIS are, but I am not going to admit that, of course.
“So then, tell me please, what you do want.”
“We want everything. All your knowledge. And we’ll get it.”
And with that they both, simultaneously, get up and leave.
***
About an hour later, by my reckoning, the door opens again.
A man shuffles in. Like them, he is dressed completely in white, the only thing that makes him visible is the blackness of his hair, and his beard. And his shirt, and glasses. He’s wearing round framed glasses, and he doesn’t look at me as he slowly makes his way towards me, and takes a seat opposite mine. Still he doesn’t catch my eye, but he starts talking, his head bent forward slightly, his eyes to the floor.
“I am a scientist.”
I wait. He’s small, scrawny even, and though I really can’t be bothered to move, I do think that I could overpower him quite easily and escape. He’s left the door open too, I’m not strapped down, maybe I should try it? But I’m tired, and besides, I like scientists, even small and scrawny ones.
“Hello”
He ignores this remark. “They’ve asked me to tell you what we will do.”
“What will you do?”
“Ahem. We want your knowledge, everything that sits within your brain. And we presume that you won’t tell us.”
“What makes you say that?”
For the first time he glances up at me, quickly, furtively, then looks away again just as fast. Then he scratches
his beard, and laughs, nervously.
“Erm, well, we…. We presume you won’t tell us. We have to make this presumption, because, erm, it’s probably true.”
Clearly he wasn’t expecting this. “But maybe I’ll tell you everything.”
“Well you, you erm, probably, you probably won’t. So we will presume that you, erm, won’t.” He’s facing even more to the floor now, eyes so far down that his head’s almost at ninety degrees. His voice is smaller, scratchier, and then he stops completely and takes a deep breath. “So it’s no good” he starts, a little louder now, though still not looking at me, “it’s no good saying you’ll tell us everything, because you erm, you probably won’t.”
“OK, so you’ve got me, so what will you do?”
I can see the relief play out on his features and he wipes his brow with his hand, then dries it on his grey, dirty shirt, just under the pocket. Now he knows what he’s doing, and his voice loses it edge, becomes dull and monotonous again.
“We will allow you to show us what you want. It’s up to you. Then we will assess what you have shown us against your level of knowledge and capability, using a standard brain scan. Once we have determined the gap, we will extract the knowledge directly from your brain into user decipherable code, using a drug based solution. The process will, unfortunately, have the side effect of melting elements of your brain as soon as the information is released, rendering you incapable of speech, movement, thought or control.”
“You mean dead, right?”
He fidgets with his hands and actually turns away from me now. “Erm, well, yes, erm, dead. It is an unfortunate side effect for you, however, we will have the information.” Now he turns back and glances at me again. “I have been told to tell you that we will get this information from you, but the process I have described is very painful, excruciatingly painful in fact. So it is in your interest to cooperate and tell us everything up front.”
“Ah, so then you won’t put me through this process and, what, let me go?”
“Erm, well no, we’ll inject you anyway.” He’s almost whispering now and I think he realises he probably shouldn’t have said this.
“So the benefit for me of telling you is what?”
Now he’s scratching his beard vigorously and I can see the sweat has come back onto his forehead. He’s looking left and right as well as down, as far as he can go, right to hell and back from what I can tell. Then, suddenly, he rises to his feet and starts to head to the door.
OK, I’m a little surprised but also impressed, I jump up, grab his arm and in one movement swing him back round so he’s facing me, so close that he can’t look away.
“Just tell me, how will you get the drug into me?”
“We know, of course, about your eye. Miss LaFleure tried it” he speaks quickly and I have to wipe his spit away from my mouth.
“OK, so how do you get the information out?”
“Scanners, electrodes, on your brain, or impulse readers, there are a couple of ways.”
“Ah!” I let go of him. “But they won’t work! If you know about my eye, you know about the current running through my skin. Everything will get distorted. You’ll be lucky to get any useful information out.”
He starts to say something, but then turns, and scurries, like a rat out of the room. Satisfied, I fall back into my armchair, pick up an imaginary drink and sip, thoughtfully at it, and then I close my eyes.
Why do I think of the name Mark? Mark Forth? It is very cold.
“Mark?”
“Mark? John? John?”
I open my eyes. “Hello Ruth”. I give her my best smile.
“So, John, I hear you gave Mr Bret a hard time.”
“How’s your boss?”
“She’s fine. Listen”
“OK, Ruth I’m listening.”
“John, we understand that our procedure may not work with you. But we are still willing to test it.” She says this matter of factly, her eyes shining brightly.
“OK, fine, go ahead.”
She laughs. “That’s it? Go ahead? You mean you really don’t care that your brain will be turned to mush.”
I am cool enough to reply, my voice steady “Probably not as much as you, or at least your boss, cares whether they get the information. And believe me, she won’t.” We sit there, staring at each other. “She’s very pretty by the way."
“She is, isn’t she? So, John, what do you propose?”
“OK, great, get Jane in here, let’s talk, let’s have a party. You owe me that, at least” and I wink at her.
She’s gone, without looking back, without replying, and sixty seconds later they’re both sitting in front of me. Ruth is quiet, and Jane leans forward. “We’re listening, John”
I lean forward too, and put my hand on her knee. “First, I want a drink."
“No, first we talk, then I’ll give you a drink” She ignores my hand.
I lean back. “Fine. No problem. But it has to be a decent drink. Jack Daniels. At least."
Jane shakes her head. “John, we’re listening.”
“OK, well then, here it is. You want information, and I don’t really want to die. At least not with what your Mr Bret is proposing, I’ve done that to a couple of guys and it’s hard. So, I will give you information, not all of it, but you’ll get it, and you won’t have to go through all your plans that won’t work with me.”
“And”, replies Jane, “just so I’m clear, they won’t work because you’ve distorted your body somehow. “
“Erm, yes, you know that."
“And our Mr Bret seems to corroborate that. In fact, you made him very unhappy."
“Please send him my apologies."
“OK, we will." She nods at Ruth. "So, what information will you give us?”
“I’ll give you the basic formula and method for power generation. What you choose to do with it then is up to you.”
Jane casts a glance at Ruth, and they turn away from me and whisper for a while. Jane turns back to me, “This is what you call Elvira?”
“Elvira 1, yes, that’s right”
“And will we know how to use it?”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out, with people like Mr Bret on your staff.”
Jane smiles. “And in return you want your freedom?”
“That’s right. And, of course, complete deniability.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, your employer, Mr Hart, I hear, doesn’t take kindly to sharing of company secrets does he? Interesting. We found the body of one of your colleagues, or should I say, ex-colleagues. Or at least, the police did. It would seem, actually, that they are quite interested in talking to you.” She smiles, leans forward, and puts her hand on my knee.
I sigh. “The police are always interested in talking to me. But, yes, you’re right, I wouldn’t particularly like Simon to find out. Although I’m not his employee. We’re partners.”
“Really?” it’s the first time Ruth speaks.
“Yes, really, my darling.” Jane takes away her hand, quickly, but Ruth ignores this.
“So why is it called Hart Industries, and not Hart-Paris Industries, or even just Paris Industries?”
I shift, a little uncomfortably. “I like to maintain a low profile.” I say quietly.
“Oh, and Simon doesn’t? He who doesn’t exist at all? Who puts you on the stage?”
“Okay, Okay” interjects Jane, “let’s move on, okay, look, I’m fine with your deal so long as you teach Alvin how to actually use it, until he’s happy he knows how. Then we’ll let you go.”
“Fine,” I reply, “that’s fine, and now can I have my drink?”
Jane gets up. “You can have your drink, you can have a computer, and you can have half an hour to write down the formula and process for generating Elvira 1. Please make sure you do.”
***
Now I can relax. I’ve just finished. The whisky is good and they’ve even given me a little plate of snacks. I don’t eat a
s a rule, but I do enjoy the experience. I close my eyes, and sip my drink, no need to rush, when the door opens and footsteps approach, stopping very close to me. Ah, for peace.
“Are you making fun of us?”
“Hello Jane” though I don’t open my eyes.
“Open your eyes”
“Are you wearing any clothes?”
“Excuse me?”
“Is it worth me opening my eyes, I mean they are tired and heavy, and I am really enjoying this drink. So…”
I hear a sigh and some rustling noise. What’s happening? Maybe I am going to be impressed, maybe I have underestimated her. Now, a cough.
“John. Mr Paris. Open your fucking eyes.” Her voice is impressive, cold as ice.
One more sip of JD’s and I allow my eyelids to flutter up, my eyes adjust to the ever bright light and what’s in front of me. So she’s standing, completely naked, in front of a pile of clothes. Her long blond hair falls over her shoulders and partially covers her breasts and I reach forward, and brush it away, I can feel her react to my touch and I stroke, slowly, carefully, her left breast, and there’s a low, quiet hum when
When suddenly my hand is caught in a grip so tight, so strong I catch my breath and it feels like my wrist snaps with the force as it’s throw back to me, “Christ!”
“Now, tell me” she starts, completely open, completely at ease, thrusting a piece of paper at me, “what is this?”
I take it from her with my good hand and scan it. “It’s the formula for Elvira 1."
“Nice body” I look up and I see Ruth is there too, now, standing next to Jane, a hair’s breath away. She has a point, but maybe it’s not worth the pain.
“You see, John, we don’t really believe you” Ruth starts.
Falling Page 11