by T. C. Edge
I settle back onto the sofa, sinking into the soft fabric. He doesn’t need me to answer. Within moments my glass is being filled up once more.
“I must say, I’m surprised you enjoy wine so much, Adryan,” I say.
I’m also surprised that I like it so much myself. So far, I’ve been forced to drink a variety of alcoholic beverages over these last few weeks. Red wine has become my firm favourite.
“To be honest, I rather am too. I never drink to this extent. I may have a sore head tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m sure you have some powerful painkillers to sort that out,” I say.
“Yes, I do. And a good thing too. I don’t exactly want to go to work in such a state. It would be very unbecoming of a Savant to do so.”
I chuckle at the image that conjures in my head. I can just imagine all these robotic people, with their dead eyes and droning voices, getting on with their days without so much as an inkling of a smile, no joy at all.
Adryan no longer fits that image. He sticks out of it like a sore thumb, his countenance brighter, his ability to portray emotions far more developed. His ability to actually feel them, too, to some degree at least, is far different to what I expected.
And so, once more we turn our minds to less serious things, moving away from the topic of the High Tower, and my mission, and the prospect of murder.
Instead, other topics flourish, our aspirations laid bare. I tell him of my perpetual yearning to see more of the world, to walk in the high passes of the mountains, to wander through woods that aren’t so swamped with lethal toxins.
To learn to swim, perhaps, and put my horrible experience in the underwater river to bed. To paddle through blue lakes under the warming blanket of the sun, and relax on the shoreline without a care in the world.
It’s an idyllic dream that’s lived long within me, blooming each time I’ve looked upon the world beyond the city. A dream, however, that I’ve always known will never come true. I’ve never been so naïve as to believe it would.
Adryan doesn’t share such a vision. Yet he too has his own ambitions for the world, and this city in particular. To see it freed from the iron grip of his own people, and for power to be spread more evenly, more fairly.
In the end, all he appears to want is to see diversity prosper. For all the different types of people in this city to continue to thrive and expand as we spread out from its walls.
To him, a world of only Savants and enslaved Enhanced is as unpalatable as it is to me. And his mission, his life goal, is to help ensure that the vision of Director Cromwell isn’t allowed to succeed.
As we talk, I feel my eyes slipping lower. A drowsiness burgeons, teaming with the wine to speed me into a premature slumber.
Try as I might to stay awake, I’m unable to do so. As Adryan moves off to the bathroom, I tell myself I’ll shut my eyes for a few moments, let my lids rest before he returns.
They don’t reopen. Relaxing into the comfortable sofa, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
And when I wake, the city has lit once more.
62
It’s not uncommon for me to wake in unfamiliar surroundings.
The room in the training house after I passed out at the bachelor ball. The shoreline outside of the city after I’d been spat out over the waterfall.
Today, it’s another foreign world that greets my eyes as they crack open. It takes me a moment to realise that I’m in the bedroom of the apartment, light spilling in through the windows, the bedside table dressed up with a glass of water and two little white pills.
With an ache to my head, and a dryness to my throat, I quickly take up the medicinal gifts and shove them down my throat, gulping at the glass until all the water has vanished.
Then, I climb from the bed, note that I’m still fully dressed, and drag my limbs back down the corridor and into the main living area. There, I find Adryan standing beside the sofa, pulling on a shirt over his lean and well-honed frame.
I avert my eyes and step back. He hears the movement.
“Ah, Brie,” he says, looking over as he begins to work on his buttons. “Did you sleep OK?”
“Er, good thanks,” I say a little awkwardly. I step forward again and glance back to his athletic form. “How did I get in the bedroom?”
“I carried you,” he says casually, tucking his shirt in and reaching for his jacket. “How’s your head?”
“A bit sore. Thanks for the pills. So, you carried me?”
“Yeah, you fell asleep on the sofa. I wasn’t going to let you sleep there. You need more rest than I do, Brie. I considered that the bed would best give it to you.”
“Um, thanks. That was nice.”
“As long as you slept well, that’s the most important thing. Good timing, though. I need to get to work, so we should get going.”
I quickly use the bathroom and do my best to swill the taste of wine from my mouth, rubbing my lips clear of any red stains. I’m starting to learn that alcohol is a rather tricky entity, often wonderful when you’re drinking it, but quite the opposite the following day once it has lingered too long in your veins.
Feeling a little queasy, and probably looking a little ragged too, I creep along with Adryan to his car and slip inside. Passing through the city, I note the early morning rush of people, pouring from their homes and marching around the streets like worker ants returning to the nest.
The sight of the base of the High Tower is most interesting of all, a flood of Savants being sucked in through its doors from the surrounding streets. They plod in such a similar fashion to each other, so few of them seeming to engage in any conversation as they crowd through the doors and disappear inside.
Despite enjoying the little haven of ours in the Court House, I suspect that my time in the High Tower won’t be quite so pleasurable. The thought of being surrounded by so many of these empty vessels doesn’t fill me with much enthusiasm.
We reach the western gate in fairly quick time, and I step out with a final smile from Adryan.
“I’m going to advise the Council of Matrimony that our courtship is going well,” he says before I leave. “If things go to plan, we should be married in no time.”
“Good,” I say. “The sooner, the better.”
Wow, never thought I’d say that…
“OK, take care now, Brie. And if you can, try to get some new shoes,” he adds with a smirk.”
As he drives off, I turn my eyes down to Mrs Carmichael’s old pair of blue flats. They really aren’t in keeping with the dress I’m wearing at all. I guess, if I’m to be given such a prominent position around here, I should at least dress the part.
Making a mental note to recruit Sophie to help me, I work my way towards the western gate and pass through the door. As always, there’s a towering Brute on guard on the other side. With his helmet on, it’s hard to determine whether it’s Magnus or not.
His eyes trace me, and through his visor I can see them rising.
“Well, Brie, it looks as though you had a good evening.”
The lower portion of his face, clearly visible, grows into a cheeky grin.
“I, er, got drunk,” I say, my voice infused with a hint of guilt.
“Drunk. I see. Well, it’s not for me to judge what you get up to. It’s good to know that your courtship is going well, though. You’ll be a fine addition to Inner Haven I’m sure.”
“Thanks, Magnus. You know, you Brutes are all so nice. It’s quite jarring, in a way. I never thought you would be.”
“Because we’re so large, we can’t be kind?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
“No, no…I just thought…”
A laugh booms from his chest.
“I’m only kidding, Brie. It’s a common misconception, really. We Brutes are as affable as anyone, although when the need calls for it, we can be very fierce too. But, there’s no need for it here, is there? So, I like to be cheerful if I can.”
“It’s nice,” I say. “You’re like a huge great r
ay of sunshine every time I pass through this gate.”
“Pleased to be of service,” he says, nodding humbly.
I move off with a spring in my step, my head already clearing after my overconsumption the previous evening. The painkillers here are clearly capable of seeing to such ailments without much problem.
The sky is a bright blue as I wander down the road, a stupid smile on my face that really has no place there at all. I don’t even know why it’s there, given the recent and upcoming events in my life. But illogical as it is, it refuses to budge as I cruise back towards the academy, heading home.
The nearer I get to Brick Lane, however, the more the smile fades. By the time I pass the threshold to Carmichael’s and enter inside, it’s more or less completely receded.
The first face to greet me is, unsurprisingly, Nate. I wander towards the desk and ask him if there’s any post for me. He tells me no, more reservedly than usual.
Once, that was the norm. Nate has always been so shy, and would barely make eye contact with me should I say ‘hi’ to him as I pass by. Recently, however, he’s emerged from his shell, perhaps owing to his posting here at the front desk.
Yet today, that new spirit appears to have diminished, his energy withdrawn.
“Anything the matter?” I ask him.
He smiles weakly.
“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night. Bad dreams.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that, Nate…”
“My parents,” he mutters. “I barely remember them. But last night, they were in my dreams. It was clear.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Never,” he says. “It was that woman, I think. I hate her.”
“What woman? Oh, you mean Agent Woolf?”
He nods solemnly.
“She messed with my head,” he grumbles, his little face angrier than I’ve ever seen it. “I hate her,” he repeats, his unbroken voice getting as close as ever to cracking.
“I know what it’s like, Nate,” I say, reaching across to comfort him. “She did it to me as well. Stirring up memories. But that’ll settle, don’t worry.”
“I guess. It was weird. I saw things in my head…when she looked at me.” He frowns and looks up at me. “Do you know where Drum is?”
I recoil, drawing my comforting hand back, his question catching me off guard.
“No. What would make you ask that?”
He shrugs.
“I saw it again, when she was in my head. The way you ran outside after hearing about Drum being in prison. I dunno, I thought maybe you knew where he might be.”
“Um, no I don’t,” I say briskly. “I ran out because I was upset, that’s all. I don’t know anything.”
The smile has well and truly gone from my face now, dragging any good feeling inside me away with it. If Nate’s suspicious of me after being reminded of that memory, then what the hell’s going to happen with Agent Woolf?
And she’ll have seen the same memory in all the other kids who were there as well, the ones who attended Fred and Ziggy’s funeral. They all watched me rush out of the door after we found out what had happened with Drum, after we got that letter from the Department of Corrections.
Who knows what else she dug up during her little session here last night.
“So how are the other kids?” I ask. “Do they hate Agent Woolf too?”
Nate nods, gritting his teeth.
“We all hate her,” he grumbles.
As he speaks, a little beeping sound begins yapping away beyond the door, outside on the street. Nate bursts from his post and opens it up to find a postal drone hovering before him.
On its front, a little electronic interface lights up with our address. Nate presses a button and a slit opens, coughing up an electronic letter. He takes it and the drone immediately zips back into the sky, ready to move off elsewhere.
He dawdles back over, looking at the front of the letter.
“Anything interesting?” I ask.
He shrugs.
“Dunno. It’s for Mrs Carmichael. Are you going to her office?”
“Is she in there?”
“I think she went up after breakfast. She asked if I’d seen you, actually.”
“Right. You want me to take the letter to her?”
He nods, and a tiny hint of a smile returns to his chubby cheeks.
I take the letter and begin moving up the stairs and towards Mrs Carmichael’s room, inspecting it as I go in some vain hope that it might be for me. It doesn’t look like it is. Nothing but a bill of some kind.
I knock on my guardian’s door and am called in. Once upon a time, I’d be in for a serious reprimanding for staying out all night. Today, it registers nothing but a question, asked casually.
“You stayed with Adryan last night?” she asks, her horn-rimmed reading glasses hovering on the end of her lengthy nose.
She raises her eyes from the files on her desk as I step in, placing the letter on the table.
“Yeah. We had a lot to talk about, and it got quite late so I stayed over.”
“Right. And you just talked? Nothing else happened?” she inquires.
I stare at her for a few moments. It’s enough to show my displeasure at the question. To rub it in, however, I feel it requires a terse response.
“No,” I say. “And that’s not your business anyway.”
“Alright, I was only asking. There’s no need to get defensive.”
“I’m not being defensive.”
“Brie, just saying you’re not being defensive in that way is kind of evidence in itself that you are, in fact, being defensive. Don’t you think?”
She’s got me there. It’s too early to argue.
“Fine,” I say, brushing it off. “Anyway, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I just wanted to know how it went?”
I pull out a seat from her desk and drop into it. I feel all my energy being quickly stripped by this place. Having to continually update certain people on my progress is beginning to get on my nerves.
“Brenda, didn’t we agree that it was best to not fill you in on everything?” I ask.
“Well, no, not really. If Zander can hide my memories, what’s the problem? I’m here to advise you, Brie…”
“Sure, but you don’t need to know it all. And in any case, I’m sure Zander’s got better things to be doing than coming down here every five minutes to tamper with your memory.”
“Jeez. What’s got into you this morning?”
I let out a long breath. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m being so short with her.
“Nothing. There are just so many balls in the air already. And I’m not a good juggler, Brenda. Let’s just say the evening went well, I feel more confident about things in general, and Adryan is…he’s…”
Mrs Carmichael tilts her head down and widens her eyes in preparation for the punchline.
“Well?” she asks. “He’s…what?”
“He’s…different,” I say finally. “He’s better than I thought he’d be.”
“That’s good then,” she says. “I guess, as long as you can trust him, that’s the main thing.”
“I do, for sure. He’s, erm, he’s helping me with something, actually.”
“What?” she asks quickly.
I backtrack.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
“Brie…what is it?”
“Nothing. Honestly, it really doesn’t matter.”
But it does. And now my mind is filling again with my parents’ youthful faces, smiling down at me in their arms.
And as I see the image, a sudden jolt cuts at my heart.
“My clothes,” I whisper, thinking fast. “What did you actually do with my clothes?!”
Mrs Carmichael looks a little confused by my sudden tangent.
“What clothes?”
“The ones, you know, I was wearing outside the city. The horrible toxic ones.”
“Oh, of course. Well, I go
t rid of them,” she says matter-of-factly. “That poison was never coming out, Brie.”
“Where are they?!”
“They’re gone. I burned them. What’s the problem? I didn’t realise they were so important to you.”
I shut my eyes tight and hang my head forward.
The clothes weren’t important. It was what was in my jacket pocket that meant so much to me.
“My parents’ picture,” I whisper, cranking my jaw open after a brief stretch of silence. “It was in my pocket.”
“Oh…I’m so sorry, Brie. I should have checked.”
“It’s, um, not your fault,” I say, my voice nothing but a shade, cold and empty. “I can’t blame anyone except me. All of this is my fault.”
“No it’s not, don’t talk like that. You’ve been thrust into the middle of all this. None of it is your fault.”
“Well, saving Drum was my idea, wasn’t it? I never had to do that.”
“You did. You had to. You’re a good person. Too good sometimes. Drum is lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Well, I doubt you’ll be able to say that about me once I’ve committed murder.”
“I’ll say it all day long,” she says. “Drum killed a man. Do you think he’s a bad person?”
I shake my head silently.
“Exactly. Doing a bad thing doesn’t make you a bad person. Just like doing something good doesn’t erase the bad. Shades of grey, Brie. The world is far more complicated than that.”
I stay silent, knowing she’s right.
“And anyway, look on the bright side – Zander has another picture, doesn’t he? So, all is not lost.”
I work a weak smile onto my face for her benefit. But really, that’s his picture, not mine. It sounds stupid, but I’ve had that picture next to my bed every day since I can remember. Only recently has it found itself in my pocket. For me, it’s the most important thing I have in the world.
And now it’s gone.
Forever.
63
I don’t linger long in the academy. Half because I don’t want to, and half because I have other things I need to be getting on with.
Escaping to the silence of my room, I attempt to make contact with Zander. Right now, the number one priority on my mind is to train and work to unlock my mental abilities. Until that happens, I’m more or less treading water.