‘Thank you,’ Mother Kadi says, with a big smile.
‘I wouldn’t have had it any other way,’ chips in Mother Kimberley.
‘Nor me,’ croaks Mother Caroline. ‘It’s been the best years of my life, and I’ve had a long one.’
‘Steady on.’ I laugh.
‘It’s true,’ shouts someone from the back of the room, but before I can identify her, the other women are adding their own words of encouragement or joy at being here with me.
It’s a strange feeling to have such love expressed to me, but I welcome it. I need it.
I look to Mother Tabia, the only one to stay silent. For a second I think she’s going to say something crushing, but instead she smiles.
It’s enough.
As I walk back to my room and straight into my bathroom I feel empowered. I meant what I said to them: they’ve given me so much and I’ll always be grateful, but the future is mine to write. Suddenly the responsibility of being the one to prolong the existence of humanity doesn’t seem so daunting, not when I have the Mothers’ support.
I stay there, looking at my reflection in the mirror and noticing the fire behind my eyes. This could be a fleeting moment of buoyancy, but I embrace it.
Before long I hear the door close in my bedroom and become aware of the silence that is left behind. I’m alone.
I walk out of the bathroom and take a breath, then go straight for my mother’s book of letters. Its pages have become well-thumbed in the short while I’ve had it. I don’t think she’d have minded that, though. Her words have brought me closer to her, even if they’ve not helped me answer any of the questions I’ve unearthed.
As I flick through the pages to read my favourite passage once more, the one in which she lists all the things she’s looking forward to us doing when I arrive in the world, my eyes are drawn to something new, a page I’ve not seen before.
Darling girl,
I fear I’m losing you before you even arrive. Your father thinks I’m being foolish, but I think my maternal intuition has seeped in early. They’re creating a safe place for you. A tower where you can spend your days in a loving environment and know nothing but good. This makes me happy. I want you to see the good that life has to offer – because already the promise of your arrival has brought about so much change – but their scope is so vast, their plan so complex and intricate, I fear my love won’t be enough to keep you with me. They can offer you so much, even a garden to call your own, so that you never have to leave.
Vivian is still being incredibly sweet and supportive, so maybe I’m panicking over nothing. It’s not hard to see I’m buckling under the pressure here. There’s so much to take in and prepare for.
I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but being the mother to the first girl born in fifty years has added so much strain. I feel judged already with people wondering whether I’m going to do right by you and for them. I could just be being paranoid, of course. Pregnancy hormones will do that to a woman – be warned!
I know how loved you are and can see you will have the best life ever lived. But, my little one, what if I’m not enough? They’ll take you. They’ll take you and bring you up their way so that you will become who they want you to be.
There I go again.
You are loved. You are yours. Not mine, not theirs. Remember that.
Love, your Mumma Xxx
I read the note a few times to be absolutely certain of its authenticity. Of course I am. These are my mother’s words, intended for me to read. Although they’ve been stripped out of the book I was given, which was evidently an altered version of my mother’s reality, manipulated to keep me on their chosen path. To let me think this is what she wanted for me but, like me, she had serious doubts. I only wish she hadn’t doubted herself so much. I know she would’ve been a fantastic mother to me.
Glancing back at her words, I wonder who snuck this between the pages I’ve come to know so well. It wasn’t in there earlier, so either it happened before we were ushered into the safe room, or while we were there, or when we came out and I was in my bathroom. Whichever, someone has decided to make the most of the commotion downstairs and sneak this to me. I wonder how many more entries were edited out or stripped of my mother’s intention.
I look out of the window in my room at the beauty of the garden zone below, the Tower they built for me and brought me up in, because my mother wasn’t around to do things her way. If only Vivian hadn’t lost the ability to connect with me like she used to.
A thought occurs to me.
Surely not.
Could it all be a lie?
I need to find out now, before it’s too late.
43
Bram
I swallow a mouthful of floodweed. It comes straight back up but I force it down again. I’m trying not to show any sign of weakness.
‘Looks like you’re getting used to it.’ Chubs laughs, noticing my wince while slurping his third helping.
I take my empty tin, rinse it in the large iron bowl they call a sink and place it with the rest of the pile, ready for the next meal. It’s not home but I’m starting to see how things work down here. Everyone has their place.
Frost is their leader, a man as harsh as the world he lives in. Saunders, ex-EPO, his knowledge is invaluable. Chubs, Johnny, Nix, and many more names I’m yet to commit to memory, make up Frost’s army, the Freevers.
I take a moment to scan the room, watching the ten or so Freevers eat, whispering secrets, sharing information. Eve’s name is audible every few seconds and catches my ear, like someone calling my own name.
‘Bram?’ A woman’s voice startles me.
‘Yeah, sorry … Helena, isn’t it? I was just …’
‘Daydreaming? Don’t blame you. Any chance you get to be somewhere other than this is worth slipping away for,’ she says, tapping the side of her creased, freckled head.
She lifts the toughened plastic container that’s overflowing with at least a hundred used tins and mugs. I see the veins in her arms pulse as she relocates it to the other side of the room they’re using as a kitchen. She’s physically strong for someone in her early seventies.
‘Ain’t you ever seen a woman lift?’ she jokes, flexing her biceps before leaving the room.
I follow her out, heading back to what has become my room for the foreseeable future.
As I navigate the seemingly endless corridors, avoiding the drips of floodwater falling from the ceiling at each intersection, I realize I’ve taken a wrong turn.
‘Hello?’ I call. My voice is dead in the heavy air.
Shit. This is all I need. Such a noob.
‘Hey?’ a small voice says.
I turn on the spot to find a head poking out of a doorway about ten metres ahead of me. ‘Oh, it’s you ! The pilot!’ he says, lifting the tinted goggles from his eyes.
‘Hi, Johnny.’ My heart sinks. He’s the youngest person in the Deep, one of the youngest on the planet even. My guess is that he’s around fourteen and he’s not left me alone since I arrived, like some sort of Eve fanboy, obsessed with hearing every bit of info, every detail on Eve, Holly and my father’s inventions.
‘You lost?’ he asks.
No use hiding it, and it’s better bumping into Johnny than Frost! I nod.
‘Come in – you can help me, actually.’ His head suddenly disappears inside the room and the door stays open, waiting for me to follow.
I sigh and walk in.
My eyes narrow and I raise my hand to shield them from the light as I enter.
‘Oh, sorry!’ he mumbles. ‘Here, use these!’
He shoves at me a pair of tinted goggles, like the ones he’s wearing, and I place them over my eyes before the light melts my retinas.
‘Better?’ he asks.
I nod as the light is blocked and I can finally see where I am.
My heart stops. Standing there in front of me …
‘Eve?’ I whisper, ripping off the goggles.
�
��Put them back on!’ Johnny shouts, as I’m blinded again by the intense white light.
I snap them over my head and blink. Eve reappears. It’s her, standing in the centre of the room, staring at the wall.
‘She’s not real, you idiot. I thought you of all people would be able to spot a hologram when you see one.’
Suddenly I see the light-throws from the holo-projectors rigged up to the corners of the room.
‘B-but how are you doing this?’ I stutter, more at seeing the perfection of Eve’s face again than anything else.
‘Don’t you recognize your own father’s invention?’ Johnny says, picking up the illuminated keypad from the floor.
He types a few things in and Eve suddenly turns to me.
‘Hello, Bram. I’ve missed you.’ She winks.
‘Stop,’ I say, placing my hand over Johnny’s to stop him typing.
‘Okay, okay.’
I step to the corner of the room and take a close look at the small projectors blasting Eve’s image into Johnny’s damp room in the Deep. I read ‘WELLS INNOVATIONS’ embossed on the side of the matt black outer casing. ‘How did you get this?’ I ask.
He turns to me. ‘These? Oh, they’re everywhere in Central, just standard holo-projectors.’
I stare back at him and wait. That’s a lie and he knows I know it is. Of course there are holo-projectors inside and outside every building in Central – there have been for years, installed as part of my father’s Projectant Program with the intention of using them to allow Projectants to walk freely among society. When his program was scrapped the projectors remained, taking on a new role throwing advertisements and EPO propaganda into the streets, projecting the latest model boats and floating homes on to the river.
But these were not standard holo-projectors.
‘Okay.’ Johnny smiles. ‘I knew you’d spot it.’
He’s referring to the small letter H embossed after ‘WELLS INNOVATIONS’.
Holly.
‘Those are my projectors,’ I say. ‘They’re only used in one place.’
‘The Dome.’ Johnny raises his eyebrows.
‘How did you …’
‘Some good men gave their lives to get these,’ he says, his expression suddenly changing.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ I place my hand on his shoulder.
‘Nah, it’s okay. It’s what we sign up for.’ He shrugs. ‘I just gotta get this damn thing to work.’
I glance at Eve, now standing as though she’s in a moment of deep thought. Then I glance around Johnny’s room. Wires, circuit boards, screens, computers, keyboards. His role down here is pretty obvious.
‘What the hell are you planning to use this for anyway?’ I ask, trying to choose from the endless possibilities.
‘Well, that’s classified,’ he smirks, ‘but between you and me, let’s just say that if Eve ever made it outside that place, a decoy might not be the worst idea in the world.’ He winks.
I nod, lifting my goggles slightly and squinting at the mess of light splashing around the small room. ‘Well, she’s far from perfect at the moment.’ I chuckle.
‘You think you could help?’ He can’t contain the hopeful grin on his face. ‘If anyone’s going to be able to get this working it’s you!’
Of all the definitive moments in the last few days, of all the life-changing decisions I’ve made, this feels top of the list. The ultimate betrayal of my father. My heart leaps at the idea of helping the Freevers to use his own tech against him. ‘Yeah, I’ll help,’ I say, taking a seat on the floor next to him. ‘But I warn you, I’m not my father.’
‘From what I hear, that’s probably a good thing,’ Johnny says. ‘But you must have learnt a thing or two from working with him all these years?’
‘With?’ I chuckle. ‘No one works with Dr Wells. You work for him.’
‘Jeez, and I thought I had it bad,’ Johnny replies.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, not understanding his remark.
‘Frost. Dad. My dad!’ Johnny explains.
‘Frost is your father?’ I say, maybe a little too shocked.
‘Yeah. The apple fell a long way from that tree, all right!’ He laughs. ‘Much to Dad’s disappointment.’
I spend the next few hours sharing my limited knowledge of holography with Johnny. He laps up every word, fills in the blanks. By the time we remove our goggles the blinding lights have been tamed, the exposure corrected, the focus calibrated, and standing before us is a perfect replication of Eve.
‘Blimey.’ Johnny sighs at her beauty.
‘You should see the real thing,’ I reply.
‘With you on our side, maybe I will.’ He smiles.
He might just be right.
44
Bram
‘Rise and shine, young Bram,’ she rasps through the thin crack of my door.
My tired mind takes a few moments to remember her name. ‘Morning, Helena.’ I yawn.
‘Actually, it’s afternoon,’ she replies, stepping in and handing me a tin mug.
The hours pass quicker in the Deep. Sunlight barely breaks the storm clouds let alone reaches the catacombs of this Freever hive far below the rivers of Central.
‘It’s impossible to tell when day ends and night begins down here,’ I say, sipping the water, using my lips to filter the few petals they add for flavour.
‘Day, night, it doesn’t matter here, my boy. Someone’s always awake and someone’s always asleep,’ she says, rapping her fist on the wall dividing me from the next room, where Chubs is undoubtedly still snoozing.
‘I’m up!’ his muffled voice moans.
I like Helena. She’s made my time in the Deep a little easier, her quick mind and sharp tongue putting me in my place, and others too. They all respect her here.
‘On your feet then, Tower Boy. Frost doesn’t like to be kept waiting,’ she says, watching me as I stand and pull my damp jumpsuit up over my naked torso.
‘Getting a good look?’ I tease.
‘Cheeky bugger! I’m old enough to be your grandmother,’ she jokes, picking up my mug, finishing my water and disappearing into the hall.
I drop to the floor and start my new ritual of a hundred push-ups. Being down here makes you feel unfit, out of shape. I can’t afford to be either of those. I feel the oxygen flooding my muscles and the adrenalin waking my senses. I need to be alert if I’m being summoned by Frost.
One. Two. Three. Four … Frost, Chubs, Helena, Saunders … I start listing the names, trying to remember the new family I’ve fallen into. Quite literally, in some cases. There are entire families living down here. Fathers, mothers and sons, all united in the fight to free Eve from the clutches of the EPO.
‘Bram?’ Johnny whispers, through my door.
‘Come in,’ I grunt, as I push up. The door opens and in he comes, his goggles dangling around his neck.
‘Hi, erm … It’s Frost, he’s sent me to get you.’
‘Jeez, must be fairly urgent. Helena’s only just left.’
Johnny widens his eyes.
‘It’s about me and Eve, right?’ I ask, already guessing.
He nods. ‘Did you actually kiss ?’ He runs his hands through his hair in excited anticipation of my reply.
‘Yes and no. It’s complicated,’ I say, standing up and squeezing past him through the door.
‘So, like, your lips actually … I can’t even … How did you …’
‘Okay, chill, Johnny, chill. There’s a lot more to it,’ I say, trying to speed up our walk. I already hear the crowd in the main chamber, the largest one. It’s where they hold all their meetings.
I turn the corner and Helena’s figure fills the open doorway. ‘Good luck,’ she whispers, giving me a little pat on my butt as Johnny and I pass her to enter the lion’s den.
She follows us as we walk into the long, dimly lit hall, every head turning in our direction.
The room falls silent.
All eyes are on me.
&nbs
p; Now I see why. A small old-fashioned projector sits on the central table, casting its light towards the largest wall. The beam is interrupted by a jet of fine mist, pouring from a pipe in the ceiling. The projection on the mist acts like a makeshift hologram, showing everyone in the room the photograph sitting on top of the projector. The photo of the kiss. Our kiss.
The reaction is mixed. Some of the Freevers spit on the ground at my feet. Others laugh and give me congratulatory nudges in jest. I see the scattering of women gather around Helena. She continues to walk behind me as she hears whisper after whisper. I glance back for some reassurance as she waves them away like annoying flies, buzzing around her head, and nods for me to keep moving.
‘Calm yourselves, please.’ Frost calls the rabble to order. ‘Obviously, you’ve seen we have breaking news fresh from the Dome about our guest of honour and newest recruit, Mr Bram Wells.’
The room half applauds. I don’t know how to react. This is weird. Awkward. I stare at the floor, trying not to make eye contact with anyone around me. I sense the trust I’ve been trying to build hanging by a thread.
As I do my best not to look at anyone, I find myself facing a scattering of photographs on the long table in front of me while Frost addresses the crowd.
‘Leaked EPO images,’ Helena whispers from behind, sensing my interest.
‘What are you looking for?’ I mutter back, our voices lost under the constant Freever babble.
‘Ernie Warren,’ she replies. Eve’s father.
I raise my eyebrows in response, looking at the haystack of images for a needle that might not even exist. I scan the photographs, from dilapidated cloudscrapers to family photos of EPO personnel outside their homes. How have the Freevers got their hands on these?
Suddenly something catches my eye.
A small speck of colour on the corner of a photograph sticks out from underneath the pile. I recognize the deep green of the few leaves visible at this edge of the picture.
While the noisy room surrounding me is preoccupied with Frost’s speech, I lean forward casually and subtly slip the photo out so I can see the whole thing. My heart is racing as I stare at the photo, the one I’ve had as the homescreen of my holo-display since I was a boy: the large, beautiful tree.
Eve of Man: Eve of Man Trilogy Page 24