Larisa calmly dismantled the guang lights, more so than she probably felt, he was sure. Don’t pull them down, he wanted to say, film it again, but with me talking instead.
Earlier, Larisa had helped him remove his chips, and reprogram them to play back a story consistent with Lucas’ movements, so it seemed like he was still chipped. He’d only go entirely ‘off the grid’ when the PSAs went live, and they would be far too distracted with the fall-out from that.
Larisa’s rebuttal to go to the N-E-E was the first time she’d refused one of their requests. They needed her; it was a blow that she wouldn’t go with them. Kau couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he knew there was a reason why, and that the reluctance went deep. Whatever it was Chandra knew, and protected it; protected her. If Larisa had stood her ground, maybe he could too.
Footsteps descended into the bunker like sporadic clapping. It was Solo, Batz and Kodi, their beleaguered faces accompanied by bag-strapped shoulders. Kau was used to seeing sights like that from the migrations. Usually worse. No matter if they agreed that migrating was for the best, or insisted that possessions didn’t matter, the idea of whittling down their most important things and putting them in a bag, did something to a person.
They dropped their things to the floor, and Batz and Solo were drawn to something on the Interface by Chandra.
Kodi stood opposite Kau. Her eyes had this funny way, like they could see through you, so wholly and completely, but also like they didn’t see you at all. He and Kodi hadn’t properly spoken, not since the lab. Not since she’d slammed him for his part in her parent’s murders. He’d never thought about it until now, what with everything, how Kodi would feel about travelling and living with him. Had she forgiven him? Had his lie about her only confirmed what she’d long suspected – that Kau was a rotten apple polluting their barrel.
It seemed Kodi might stand there for hours and not utter a word, but he knew there was something she wanted to say. Larisa seemed to sense it too, and she backed away to join Chandra and the others.
‘This isn’t what you planned at all, is it?’ Kodi said, dragging her bags to a stool near the table. ‘How does it feel to be in your mid-twenties and still be treated like a kid?’
Kau sounded out for sarcasm, but he found none. He wasn’t sure how to answer, so he shrugged his shoulders. What to make of her? Kodi who meant so much to so many people, with powers that, so far as he could see, hadn’t proved useful yet. Whatever screw was loose with Anton, he was no fool. And his mother believed in her, so strongly; maybe even more than she believed in him.
‘When your mother told us… her idea to go into the BioDome instead of you, it made complete sense to me. It felt right. I know you don’t like it, and you feel it undermines you, but there are more successful permutations coming through this way.’
Again, he wasn’t sure how to answer her. Could she be playing an elaborate game, or had he spent too much time with the UA; dodging every connection, doubting everyone’s agenda? ‘Did you tell my mother?’ he said finally.
Kodi nodded. ‘I told everyone. For what it’s worth,’ she looked away to Chandra and the others, huddled around the Interface. ‘But it’s not fully decided yet.’
He sensed she was holding something back from him. Why hadn’t his mother used what Kodi had said as a cattle prod; it would have helped qualify her argument. Maybe she had some doubts about Kodi too.
Kodi looked back to him; her breathing shallowed. Was she nervous?
She pointed to his forehead. ‘Your head’s bleeding.’
His hand drew to his prickles; his fingers stained beetroot-red. It must have been from removing his chips earlier, but he couldn’t think about that now.
‘Your mother told me I’m supposed to say what I see and feel, even if it might hurt people…’
Kodi must find herself in difficult situations; having conversations that she’d rather not. It was tough. She was just a kid after all.
‘Is there anyone you’re sorry to leave behind?’ she asked, and there was that look again. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
It was like she could see right in his mind; were his doubts that obvious? It didn’t feel right. The BioDome had been his plan, he should be the one to see it through, but he was scared. He’d tried to fool himself that he wasn’t; that’s maybe what Kodi could see in him now. Maybe his mother did too, and that’s why she was so adamant to take his place. For the third time in a matter of minutes, Kodi left him speechless; but footsteps behind him soon filled the void. It was his mother and Lucas. His mother looked frantic; he’d never seen her so skittish before. She looked at him like she’d swallowed her heart. Lucas, however, had never looked so determined.
After Kau were to switch clothes with Lucas, they would go one way, and his mother would go another. This was his last chance to stop it all now, if he wanted to. His mother swayed over to him, the bags of supplies and equipment swinging about her like pocket watches. Her arms found him and squeezed – was he going to let her do this?
She pulled away and adopted that mock, scolding voice he’d impersonated to a fine art when he was younger. ‘What have you done to your head?’
‘I removed my chips,’ he said and grazed his temple with his fingers. The blood was beginning to congeal.
‘You’ve got GluSuture everywhere but the wound,’ she said, and picked up the tube. ‘Sit down, bǎobèi.’
And he was taken back to being eight years old, playing hurricanes. The other children had been picking on him; they’d chosen him as the ‘victim’ while they pretended to be a hurricane; tripping him over, pushing him amongst them like he was a rubber ball; throwing things at him. It had got rough, and the corner of a model helicopter had slashed his forehead and blood had spilt too easily. At the sight of it, all his friends ran away, and his mother had GluSutured where the blade had chopped into his forehead. He had said he’d never play with a helicopter again, but his mother handed the toy back to him, and told him what to say if they wanted to play hurricanes again.
Jun glazed a slick from the tube over his head in place of his chips; the fusion of skin was instant.
‘Maybe it’s time I stopped playing with helicopters,’ Kau laughed, and touched his head.
‘Oh Kau,’ she said, and looked at him the way she used to back then; holding her breath, to hold back the tears.
‘It was never the helicopters that were the problem.’
CHAPTER 38
Saturday 20th May 2062
The Province Governance Offices loomed like a giant wave; the curved roof, its frothy rip curl. Lucas positioned the BioDome directly opposite its entrance; Jun’s new view every day, a wave breaking with nowhere to go.
The Offices were situated at the intersection of five CMCD borders, surrounded by identikit homes stretching far out into the distance. The Offices also happened to be located near the UA Bases. After everything she’d learned over the past few days, she wouldn’t be surprised if there were tunnels connecting them.
Lucas lowered the BioDome onto the immaculately pruned, mustardy grass. The last of the day’s sunshine hit its transparent skin and rippled lazy rainbows. Jun could feel the interrogative stares from people as they drove past her, their curious eyes tracking the dome’s denouement to the ground. She was reminded that nearly everyone she knew would likely see her camped out here. Neighbours from Chun, old colleagues, ex-students, even Fan. They’d be reminded every day of what she and the Autonarmy stood for. But of course, it hadn’t been her decision to make this kind of statement, but somehow it felt right, and certainly better her being here than Kau. The irony that she was walking into a cage in the name of freedom wasn’t lost on her.
Larisa came from behind and put a reassuring hand on Jun’s back. Though she hadn’t known Larisa long, she felt a connection that transcended time. Larisa had saved Kau and Kodi, had helped them all time and time again… she only wished, selfishly, that Larisa would go to the N-E-E with Kau, Kodi and the re
st of them. It would have reassured her. She respected Larisa’s decision, of course. Her isolation in the BioDome came from necessity, standing in place of Kau. What was Larisa’s reason?
Larisa had bought Jun some digital discretion by hacking into the UA’s Governance CC network. She had played back the recordings from the previous hour so the Ai-ssistant security team wouldn’t be alerted; her final act of brilliance. Jun checked the time, 19.42. The offices were closed, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the building to disturb her.
‘Take care of yourself, Jun,’ Larisa said. ‘Remember, I’m only a comm away.’ They hugged, and Jun couldn’t help feeling sentimental. This was it. She had clung to every moment since she’d said goodbye to Kau; who knew when she’d be near another person again?
Lucas popped his knuckles and drew Jun to him. ‘We’re an hour down the road if you need us, that’s all.’ His strong arms were reassuring, but as soon as he let go, Jun realised how weak she felt by herself. When they drove away, and she faced the looks and the stares alone, she understood things were only going to get worse.
She was a world away from the cocooned security of the Ghetto’s bunkers and tunnels. In some ways, spending most of her time there had been preparation for the compactness of the BioDome. It was half the size of a mob-home; smaller, but wider. It had been designed for off-site observational studies. Suitable for no longer than a few weeks, not for months or years. She should be so lucky to be worried about living in this thing for years.
Kau hadn’t told her much about Celeste, but she must be a talented and smart woman. How pioneering the dome was, so self-sufficient and contained; how pioneering Celeste must be. She could see why Kau was so drawn to her.
She wouldn’t get a chance to speak to Kau until he reached the N-E-E. He, Solo, Batz and Kodi would be making their way through the tunnels now, to hide in the underground bunker near The Ends, if they weren’t there already. When she had GluSutured Kau’s head, it had been the confirmation she needed that she was doing the right thing; there were things he still didn’t understand. She hoped in being here instead of him, in time, he’d understand those things. Live his life. He had so much to offer, his destiny wasn’t in the BioDome. Not that she thought hers was either, but somehow, she’d acquired it; it belonged to her now. Odgerel’s words from all those years ago surfaced, Your son will be a prominent person, and you’ll both make positive changes for the world. Had Odgerel seen this? Is this what it was all about? Had she known about Kodi; that a similar legacy would continue? That her daughter would be Kodi’s guardian?
Leaving Kodi in some ways had been like leaving a child. She was so brave and had dealt with so much. She’d been acting strangely as Jun left; removed. Distant. She had behaved that way before, but Jun couldn’t remember the circumstances. Perhaps the stress and uncertainty of these past few weeks had finally caught up with her.
Jun knelt on the floor, which was surprisingly malleable to the touch, and pulled her bags into her body. She’d packed only the essentials. Clothes, food, a drone, the Chandra comm and some mementoes she’d asked Kau to bring from home. For everything else she had forgotten or needed, there was the drone to shuttle supplies, but she couldn’t see the UA allowing her that privilege for long. She would need to think of a plan b. She and the Ghettoites would find a way, somehow. They had managed to so far.
She looked at her watch. 19.56. Four minutes until the PSA broadcast, four minutes until everything changed forever.
Jun opened the box that Kau had brought from home. A few Pix, her jewellery box and some papers, as well as a few of his medals. It didn’t amount to much. These little things and the Chandra comm, were her only link to those she loved. She took out the jewellery box; it had belonged to her mother. She ran her fingers through the trinkets and charms, turning over her grandmother’s ring, it’s cool opal stone reassuringly tactile and weighty.
The Chandra comm sounded, and Jun’s nerves pricked – it was happening. Suddenly it was happening. Her life was going to change forever.
‘Jun, I’m glad I got you.’
There was an urgency in Chandra’s tone that she wasn’t used to. She dropped the ring; something was wrong.
‘Kau?’ No, not after everything they had been through to get here.
‘Kau insisted I contact you. Kodi’s had a premonition.’
Jun’s heart stopped. She knew Kodi had been acting strangely, she knew it. Then it came to her, when Kodi had behaved similarly. It was when Kau had been holding back on something.
Jun’s fingers fished around in the box, amongst the brooches and rings, to find something, anything… they found a piece of string; yes, that would do. It was only when she looked down, she saw that it was a red-thread bracelet, with an endless knot, the one that Odgerel had given her. She looped it around her fingers and pulled. Swifter than a dose of morphine, relief flooded her system.
‘It’s Fan.’
Fan? What had he got to do with anything?
‘He’s going to die by suicide. This evening.’
Chandra’s words thrust down the comm, and Jun stumbled backwards. Fan? Taking his own life? It wasn’t uncommon, quite the contrary, but was Fan going to be another victim to the UA, another statistic?
‘I don’t know how you feel about it… but Kau, he’s upset. Shocked. If you wanted to try and stop him, you need to go now.’
What did Chandra mean; he couldn’t be asking her; he wouldn’t be asking her to…? ‘If I wanted to stop it?’ It hadn’t crossed her mind to. It might be unkind, or uncaring, but that was the truth. They would always be connected because of Kau, but…
Chandra hesitated. She sensed a reluctance. There was more.
‘Kau wants you to stop him. No one here will be able to get to Fan in time…’
And there was the stinger. Now it was her turn to be reluctant. No words would come, she tugged the red thread tighter against her skin.
‘In retrospect, when he’d seen his father, he realises now there had been warning signs.’
Their PSA was as good as a death sentence against Fan, or in this case, a suicide note. The UA would know where the information came from. How could it not come back on him? That was why he had been so willing to give Kau those stories; he knew he wouldn’t be around to suffer any consequences.
‘Something about not asking for his forgiveness or pity, but preparing him… Kau thought Fan was warning him about what he could expect from the UA, but now…’
She could see Kau cursing himself for that meeting, for not knowing what was going through Fan’s mind. Would she have known? Maybe. There was a time when she would have said yes, she’d known what Fan was thinking, but all the things he’d kept from her over the years and his behaviour told her she was wrong.
‘There’s one more thing…’ Chandra’s voice wavered. ‘Apparently…’ he sighed, and a hundred worlds fell from his shoulders, ‘Fan didn’t know what we planned to do with the stories – Kau never told him.’
Stupid, stupid boy! What had Kau done? But she should have known of course; Fan’s loyalty to the UA, his reputation… Kau hadn’t told Fan because he was worried his father wouldn’t tell him the truth. If Fan killed himself, Kau would feel guilty. She pulled Odgerel’s thread; that was something she knew only too well.
‘We can delay the announcement till tomorrow morning. That wouldn’t be a problem. I just need to know,’ Chandra said.
If she went after Fan, then the UA would see the BioDome, they would likely hunt for Kodi again, and would get away with everything. Chandra couldn’t really believe they could delay the announcement and still get the resolution they wanted. It had to be now or never.
‘Either way, we’re ready to go on our side. You can tune into the announcement on channel RC1. As well as overriding the PSA, I managed to disrupt the RC1 waves,’ Chandra’s voice gained pace. ‘Helena and her news crew will be out to discredit you. So best to throw the first punch, if we can.’
The first
punch had been thrown long ago. Jun felt like she’d gone through twelve rounds since.
Perhaps remembering the situation, Chandra added quickly, ‘that is if you still want to?’
‘How’s Kau?’
‘About as bad as you can imagine. He doesn’t know what to do.’
She couldn’t help thinking that even after everything Fan had done, how could Kau still… but of course he did. Fan was his father. And despite everything, no, of course she didn’t want him to take his own life, either.
‘How… how will he do it?’ she whispered.
‘Same as Odgerel. Well, how they reported.’ Chandra couldn’t bring himself to say it.
What if this was just like Odgerel, and the UA was planning to make it look like suicide; a unique accident, like Mikhail’s parents? Or what if it was all a ruse from Fan? The final deception to end all deceptions.
‘Jun, I’m sorry to do this, but we haven’t got much time.’
She’d put herself in here to save her son, and now he’d asked her to leave to save his father. But she couldn’t think straight. She yanked the thread again and winced as the pull threatened to draw blood. She realised it had been a while since she had done this, since she’d felt the need to slice her skin.
‘Should we publish, or should we hold back? It’s your call, Jun.’
She took a deep breath and relaxed the thread from around her finger.
She wasn’t sure if she’d regret her decision, but in the absence of knowing what was best, it would have to do.
The End
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