The Dreams of the Eternal City

by Mark Reece

  “Oh, Pete, before you go, Mo said that he was going to book Monday and Tuesday off on flexi. He said sorry for sending an e-mail so late but he had some family stuff that he needed to sort out.”

  “Right, yeah… erm… yep.”

  Pete left the office and Daniel smiled at Ethan.

  “I’m going to be off. There are a few other matters I’ve got to deal with tonight. Thanks again for all your help, I’ll be in contact to see where we are with the deadline. Are you still okay with your other work?”

  “Yeah yeah, I’ve sorted it.”

  “Good. I’ll see you later then, Eth.”

  “See you later.”

  Ethan was left alone with the quiet hum of the projector. After listening to it for a few minutes, he went back to his desk and checked the points Jones had made. As he knew would be the case, the SMB notes published on the secure intranet did not contain any relevant material. In fact, that talking shop had a much narrower, and inferior, methodology to that he had used for Hypnos. When he checked the slides, he was happy that his definition of subversion was correct. Cheeky bastard. As he looked over at the empty chair opposite, he thought with surprise that perhaps Mo had a point about Daniel after all.

  He felt flat on his way home. Ethan knew that now the bosses had taken hold of the project, the investigative and creative aspects of it were over.

  Although it was late by the time he had washed and eaten, he was at a loose end that evening. He was so habituated to running around, doing everything as quickly as possible, that being able to relax threw him out of synch.

  Ethan lay on a sofa, watching the MV ill at ease, until the screen flashed with a call. He stirred with the darting movements of a disturbed insect, seeing from a wall clock that it was midnight. He was unsure whether he had been asleep; the images he remembered before being interrupted did not seem quite real, and his head movement had been too sharp to be natural. He watched the display before answering, seeing that the call was from a withheld number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello Ethan, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  It was the Professor. His voice was smarmy and sarcastic, much more confident than he had been when they’d last spoken.

  “What do you mean, what are you talking about?”

  “Just a turn of phrase.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Ethan, I’m sorry, but—”

  “I want to know how you’ve got my number.”

  “Okay, well… Ethan, don’t forget that if you get a large enough group of people together then they can find out pretty much anything. I mean… how do journalists find things out? People talk. It’s as simple as that.”

  Ethan felt at a loss. Whenever he found himself in this situation, he tried to be angry but was foiled by their phoney reasonableness. He was tempted to hang up but knew that that would only invite further intrusions into his privacy by whatever techniques they had at their disposal.

  “You don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But what do you want? We agreed last time that you wouldn’t contact me again but you’ve not left it a week before you ring my number, my personal number, in the middle of the night.”

  “I need to see you tomorrow to go through a few things. Nothing serious, just a few bits and pieces.”

  “Are you mad? Why would I want to do that? You want me to meet you on the weekend? It was bad enough on a work night, but at least then there was a reason for me to be in town. What would I say if I got caught with you when I’ve no reason to be there?”

  “Yeah, I know, I know… You’re right, Ethan, but you don’t have to worry about any of that. I wouldn’t want you going back to the same place you went before, we’d never do that to you. It’ll be somewhere completely different, somewhere out of the way. You won’t even be met by the same person, so there’s nothing to worry about there either.”

  “I’m not going. And if you threaten Aislin again then I’ll call the police.”

  “Yeah… erm… you see… I don’t… It’s not as simple as you think it might be, Ethan. And you know… the other thing is… well, if you call the police, don’t forget what you’ve already done. And you’ve been paid for it, you see, so… it’s not a one-way street…”

  “Five quid for a sandwich? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s difficult to say, Ethan, but… the amount doesn’t really make a difference. You’ve accepted money and that’s the end of it. As I said, it’s not a one-way street.”

  His hand was cold against his cheek and it took Ethan a few seconds to realise that he was blushing. The Professor was right, of course, and although Ethan wanted to argue further, the prospect of being confronted by that unalterable fact for a second time stopped his tongue.

  “What’s a good time for you? Six in the evening?”

  “Make it seven.”

  “Okay, seven is fine. Have you got a pen?”

  “I’ll save it into my phone, hang on.”

  “Even better.”

  Ethan got his mobile and typed the address that the Professor gave him into it, in addition to a series of gnomic directions. If his assurances were to be believed, it would take him an hour to get there on a Saturday.

  “… That’s good… good. Right, okay… I’ll see you later then. See you tomorrow.”

  Ethan hung up without saying goodbye, the only resistance he could think to make in the circumstances.

  Although he knew that he was playing into their hands, his actions that night were inevitable. He watched the MV mindlessly, flicking the channel every so often to little purpose before playing computer games, repeatedly telling himself that he would switch it off when reaching a certain point, then carrying on. He only managed to drag himself away when realising how light the room was, and seeing from a wall clock that it was four in the morning. He had stayed up from light until light. It seemed so absurd that he stared at the clock hands then turned away before looking back. This is the worst night I’ve ever had. He unplugged his alarm. He had never gone to bed that late in his whole life; the illegal interference with the alarm (section three, subsection one), when considered with all the aggravating circumstances, was certainly a level-one SC breach.

  Ethan yawned. After having denied himself sleep for so long, he needed more and more. If I’d gone to bed on time I would have missed their call. Perhaps I should sleep the whole day tomorrow as an excuse for not going. They might accept that. Isn’t that what they want, to turn me into a criminal?

  He woke at three the following afternoon and wandered around, dazed grogginess adding to his confusion. It was dark and cloudy outside and he was at first excited that he had woken early, before realising the truth. It can’t be good for you to sleep like this. God knows what it’ll do long term. A few years earlier, an SDMA video had been made in which sleep disorders were compared to smoking in the way they progressively damaged the body. He seemed to be personally proving every deleterious effect of SC breaches.

  Ethan ate toast for ‘breakfast’ then paced backwards and forwards in the lounge, marvelling each time he saw the clock. The fact that shadows were encroaching across the floor struck him as ridiculous. Hasn’t the day gone fast? He would have to go to the Iklonians soon. Despite the threats the Professor had made, Ethan hoped without allowing himself to dwell on the idea that he might be able to help him. As he logged into the MV to search for the address, he thought that sleep had taken over his life, that it dominated his thoughts in the same way that food does for anorexics. Today would consist of nothing other than sleep and Iklonians. And the only thing that would change his routine was going to work on Monday when he would research the same things.

  As he peered out of a window, he wondered what his neighbours thought. They must know I’m still here because my car hasn’t moved since I came back yesterday, but they’ll have seen that the bl
inds were closed until an hour ago. Are they going to report me? Have they already reported me? Now that he was associating with subversives, the whole world was hostile and he thought with bitter irony about how often he had rued the inefficiency of the SDMA’s reporting protocols. Now, they were the only thing protecting him. The only reason I’m going is to gather information. I can’t let them give me the slip like last time.

  The safe house was in the countryside and he imagined a ramshackle old house on a hill, beams of light from fading sun cascading through the windows. The Professor had lied about how long it would take to get there, and the prospect of being on the road for hours felt to Ethan as bad as the destination. The distance meant that there was little chance he would be able to get back that night.

  Ethan’s stomach rumbled and he thought that he had only had two slices of toast to eat in the last twenty-two hours. He went to the kitchen and ate all the biscuits in the house. Then, feeling bloated and ashamed, he checked out of a window for passers-by before going to his car.

  The journey was unlike any he had ever taken before, with the roads almost deserted once he had got out of the suburbs. The radio became crackly and his feet tingled when they touched the pedals. Market principles had caused the countryside to become uneconomic over the last twenty years; the lack of infrastructure resulted in poor radio coverage, and the disproportionate granting of shift sleep licences in rural areas had emptied the roads during the day, meaning that there was nothing inherently sinister about his experience. Still, his mind continually reverted to thoughts of vengeful spirits, and the omnipresent sense that he was being watched and assessed.

  The directions were simple; when he reached the motorway that led out of his zone, he had only to stay on it for forty miles before following a country lane to the village. The drudgery of the journey was such that he did not notice the gradual disintegration of the road as he went further from the city, until he was ten miles away and was jolted from his seat as he went over a pothole.

  It was frightening that the Iklonians had safe houses in the countryside. He could understand what he had seen in Central Zone, with its sprawling developments and too many SC breaches for there to be any logic in trying to enforce the law in any but the most egregious circumstances. However, experience had taught him that there would be no strategic value for the Iklonians to establish a presence in depopulated rural areas, where their activities would be more likely to be detected, and there was little infrastructure to attack and fewer influential people to corrupt. It just shows how much we know. Fuck all.

  The safe house was in a village called Caville. He followed the country lane for several miles, during which there were no turnoffs and nothing around that would identify where he was. Ethan pressed on despite worrying that he had taken a wrong turn. There was abandoned scrub in every direction as far as he could see, with patchy grass giving way to mud in places as if a series of bonfires had been lit there.

  Eventually, he came to a sign marked ‘Caville’ in white letters on a green background. He relaxed before becoming anxious again after driving through the wasteland for another mile. He slowed down when seeing something in the distance, and when it loomed larger, he saw that it was a billboard from one of the first SDMA public information campaigns. Most of the space was taken up by a menacing black and white figure looking over his shoulder. The PSH was printed beside it, together with the SDMA clouds. He knew how old it was because some of the sponsor logos were from firms no longer associated with the organisation. The fact that it was still there seemed vaguely sinister, as if it were an ironic sign of defiance, or else a signifier that he was entering a forgotten place.

  Finally, to his relief, he saw a building that looked like a granary in the distance. He looked at the directions on his mobile to see that he had to take a left into ‘Green Lane’, but there were still no turnoffs, so he carried on, slowing down and hunching over the steering wheel.

  He passed the building and the road went up a slope and ended in a ramshackle car park. Vehicles were abandoned at different angles across the bays. They were much bigger than those he was used to in Central Zone, meaning that they were more than twenty years old. Gouges in the road formed barriers that broke up the space. Ethan parked at the edge of one of them.

  Wind chipped his cheeks as he looked around. Could I have taken a wrong turn? There had seemed to be only one path and the sign had been clear. Perhaps there’s another Caville? It seemed very implausible. Or maybe the instructions were out of date. Green Lane could have been abandoned and slowly reclaimed by the elements, grass and water pulling it apart piece by piece. Ethan rubbed his hands, suddenly aware of how cold he was.

  He decided to walk to the building, thinking that it was not far away and that he would block the road if he took the car. I’ll have to look for a hotel after I’ve finished tonight. Shit.

  As he walked along the side of the road, Ethan saw himself as if through binoculars, his sight panning out to show more and more empty space. He could see all the way to the motorway in the far distance. His shoes squelched in the mud until he could feel it between his toes.

  The distance was greater than he had thought, and he did not know whether his feet were tingling because of tiredness or because he was unfit. His mobile rang and he saw that it was Aislin.

  “Hi Ash, how are you sweetie?”

  “Good thanks, I just thought I’d ring to see how you’re doing.”

  The signal was crackly.

  “Yeah, fine. Sorry for not ringing you back. I wasn’t sure what you’d be doing after what you’d said before.”

  “That’s okay. What you been up to then?”

  “Just bits and pieces really, nothing special. We had that big presentation I was telling you about, you know, with Dan and everyone.”

  “Oh yeah, how did that go?”

  “Fine. Boring really, in the end. It took ages to set up and there was a massive meeting that went on the whole day. I’m hoping to finish that project soon.”

  “Oh right.”

  “Apart from that, just gone out a few times with Mo, that kind of stuff. I’ve got some more houses, by the way. You can have a look when you get back.”

  “Why don’t you e-mail me, then I can have a quick look now?”

  “Erm… okay. I’ll do it later ’cos I’m doing the shopping at the moment.”

  “No problem.”

  “And how are things with you, has it been going any better?”

  “It has actually, he’s calmed down a lot. For the first few days he was really emotional, like I was saying before, but now, we’ve just been doin’ a lot of walking, going to places that he used to go to when he was younger, stuff like that. I think he’s realised how awkward he’s been ’cos he’s started saying thank you a lot when we’ve got back to the hotel. Yesterday, he told me that no one’s got a better daughter than he has.”

  “Well, he’s right isn’t he?”

  The sky suddenly darkened and Ethan hoped beyond hope that it would not rain.

  “I didn’t know what to say. He’s really sweet when he says things like that. It’s easy to only remember the mad things he does but he’s not always like it. He threw me last night. I was touched.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “So that’s it really.”

  “I’m glad you’ve said that, it sounds like you’re enjoying yourself now. What’s the best time to ring tomorrow?”

  “We try to get back to the hotel about nine.”

  “Okay, I’ll ring you about half nine?”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’ll send you that stuff as well. The properties I mean. Ash… I’m really looking forward to you coming back. I’ve missed you. I love you. I want us to get the house sorted as soon as we can. Perhaps you can move in here while we look ’cos who knows how long it’ll all take.”

  “I’d
like that.”

  He listened to his steps for a few seconds.

  “That was everything then, I just wanted to tell you how it was all going.”

  “Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow. At half nine.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, bye, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  The conversation emptied his mind until he reached the building.

  It was a squat, stone structure with sloping walls. He paused as he stood outside it, forced back into the immediacy of reality after his interlude with Aislin. I wish I’d gone with her. Now that he thought about it, he was sure that she had wanted him to. She had made enough hints about how difficult the situation was going to be, and his presence would have undoubtedly tempered her father’s behaviour. And they needed the time together. Ethan thought that she was still not convinced of his sincerity about the house situation.

  He stepped inside into a small lobby, with winding stairs to his left and right that twisted out of his vision. Immediately before him were shelves filled with ornaments with a door between them. Of course, the other advantage to having gone with her would have been that none of this would have happened. Even with how powerful the Iklonians were, there was no way that he was important enough for them to follow him out the country.

  “Do you need anything?”

  A man had come through the door so quietly that Ethan did not register his presence until he had spoken. He wore a blue shirt and tie and had a moustache that filled a third of the distance between his lip and nose. His smile was very false and Ethan was immediately suspicious of him.

  “Oh… yeah… hi. I was looking for a turnoff but I think I might have missed it. I was after… Green Lane?”

  Ethan became more tentative the longer he spoke, imagining that he was giving something away by telling him where he was going.

  “In Caville, is that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll need a map. We’ve got plenty here.”

  Ethan glanced around but could not see anything; all the merchandise in the shop, if it was a shop, had to be hidden from view. The man produced a crumpled A-Z from behind his back.