by T. C. Edge
“Yeah, but never up close, and I’ve never spoken to one. Having them look directly at you…let’s just say I can see why Sophie chose him.”
“I doubt it was like that,” I huff. “I imagine it was him who chose her, not the other way around.”
“Well, whatever. She’s lucky, that’s all I’m saying.”
Personally, Rycard’s penetrating eyes aren’t what intrigue me most about him. It’s his frankness, his willingness to chat openly about these hybrids and the Nameless and the Stalkers who hunt them down.
Perhaps around here they’re a common topic of conversation, a current affair that the people discuss. And with him being a member of the City Guard, I guess it’s probably a fairly large concern right now.
Still, I haven’t heard a peep about any of this over in Outer Haven. I guess, until now, it’s been kept under wraps over on this side of the wall. Now, with the cryptic words of the mystery hijacker being televised across the city, everyone’s going to be talking about it.
Those words, though…I wonder what he meant.
I rack my brain and try to remember them.
He called us the oppressed. That our lives were a lie, that our freedom isn’t real. And that the Fanatics aren’t who we think they are.
What the hell does that all mean?
As I work to remember what else was said, I hear a door opening once more down the corridor, followed by two sets of footsteps.
I turn to see Rycard and Sophie emerge together, looking like quite the dashing couple. It looks like Maddox has been soothed back to sleep, his cries no longer audible.
“Sorry about all that, girls,” says Sophie. “But I’m glad it gave you an opportunity to meet Rycard. I hope he didn’t bore you too much.”
She grins, showing a bit more of her human side for the first time. I wouldn’t pin her as the playful type, but I’m happy to be surprised.
“Not at all,” I say. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Well that’s a rarity then,” jokes Sophie again.
Rycard rolls his eyes just a little. I suspect he gets this a lot when Sophie has guests over.
“Anyway, Maddox is sleeping now, so no more distractions. How about you stay for a bit of dinner? Your passes to Inner Haven won’t expire for a little while yet.”
Were she to have asked about ten minutes ago, before Rycard’s arrival, I’d have probably declined. Now, however, I’m only too happy to accept.
Tess also nods keenly. Her excitement at sticking around is for another reason entirely.
“Excellent,” says Sophie. “I’ll prepare the dining room. Rycard, fetch them some more drinks would you?”
She breezes off, leaving the three of us alone again. I find it amusing, and rather surprising, that she appears to rule the roost around here. Despite her more ‘lowly’ standing, in this apartment, she’s the boss.
Perhaps it would be different in other households. I can’t imagine a Savant ever being ordered about by an Unenhanced, for example, and many regular Enhanced would probably balk at the idea as well.
I get the impression that Rycard isn’t like the rest. Other than his exceptional sight, he just seems like a regular man, one who commonly mixes with the people of Outer Haven and has gone so far as to marry one.
He’s proof that the divide isn’t really between the Enhanced and Unenhanced. More likely, it’s between all of us and the Savants…
As ordered, he offers us a drink. I tell him that water is just fine, and grab a flask from the table. Tess once more applies for a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll work this time. Rycard appears more amenable.
“If we had some, I’d happily offer it to you. Unfortunately, we don’t.”
Tess crinkles her nose in disappointment.
“But we do have some apple wine, how about that?”
“Yes please!” says Tess.
It’s as if a single glass of whiskey has turned her into a raving alcoholic.
In order to not feel left out, I also accept the glass.
“It’s quite strong,” Rycard tells us, “so go easy.”
Tess appears to take the advice on board, and then goes straight ahead and guzzles down half the glass. The effect is fairly speedy, her attention on Rycard growing steadily more uncomfortable for me to witness.
Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to notice – odd to say for a man with such vision – and nor does Sophie when she returns and calls for us to follow her to the dining room.
Inside, the room is fitted with nothing but a basic table and chairs. Even the cutlery and tableware are bland. The food, however, is rather more tasty than I’m used to, owing perhaps to Sophie’s culinary skills.
“Around here, not many people cook for themselves,” she tells us as we eat a quite delicious stew. “Most food comes in packs that simply require heating, but I like to add my own personal touch. It’s a symptom of growing up in Outer Haven, I suppose. They cook a lot more over there, darling,” she adds, turning to Rycard, who attempts to look interested.
As we eat, I wait for an opportunity to further grill our hosts on what we heard today. I find it strangely odd that the subject isn’t being discussed already, and that no one has yet brought it up.
Presumably, that’s down to Sophie, who seems to adopt a ‘head in the sand’ mentality.
My curiosity, however, will not be held at bay for too long.
“Can we talk about what happened earlier?” I ask.
I assume bringing it up in a polite manner will make Sophie more cooperative.
The table goes silent.
“Oh, you mean the prank?” asks Sophie, sipping on her wine. “What’s there to talk about?”
“Well, the fact that it wasn’t a prank,” I say. “Rycard told us as much earlier.”
Her eyes widen briefly, before narrowing to a threatening level, guided like a heat seeking missile at her husband. For those few moments, they’re even more intense than his.
“I was just answering a few of their questions, Soph,” he says. “No harm done.”
“There might be harm done,” says Sophie through gritted teeth. “We shouldn’t be talking about this, Rycard.”
“Why not?” I query.
She turns to me.
“Because the Court doesn’t like rumours, Brie. I told you this yesterday. There’s no surprise why you haven’t heard about all this before…”
“Yeah, but now there’s no hiding it. Everyone across Outer Haven will be discussing it, there’s no way of getting around that now.”
“She’s right, Soph,” says Rycard. “You can’t quell curiosity…it’s a powerful force.”
He offers me the tiniest of winks, almost indiscernible but just about noticeable, and fills up his wife’s wine glass.
“Have a little more of that, darling. It’ll loosen you up a bit.”
Her glare grows fiercer.
I feel I have their attention now, at least.
“So, what did the guy on the screen mean then?” I ask. “All this talk of us living a lie and being oppressed. And what else did he say…something about a reckoning.”
“It’s nonsense!” exclaims Sophie. “It’s just fear-mongering. Clearly, my husband can’t keep his mouth shut, so you’ll know that these Nameless are hybrids. They’re just running scared and causing a fuss, that’s all.”
I look to Rycard for confirmation.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” he mutters.
“It’s the only way,” says Sophie. “They’re nothing but a bunch of rebels trying to destabilise things. They have no real power.”
“They have some power,” counters Rycard. “Look at what they did today.”
“Oh, hijacking a video feed. It’s hardly a revolution.”
“It’s a start,” he says. “I work for the City Guard. I know that the Nameless are being treated as a serious threat. It’s not quite as simple as you’re making out, Sophie.”
“And…this day of reckoning?�
�� asks Tess. “What does that mean?”
This time, Rycard doesn’t seem to have an answer. He shakes his head and swills on his wine.
“I honestly don’t know. I suppose they have some grand plan, or something…”
“Do you think we’re in danger?” I ask. Memories of the Fanatics’ attack, only days before, murmur in my mind. “Will they follow in the Fanatics’ footsteps?”
Rycard is quick to douse such concerns.
“I don’t believe so. In fact, for my money, it’s the Fanatics who are the greater threat to those in Outer Haven. The Nameless are rebelling against the Court and their doctrine. The Fanatics, however, are against the civil liberties the Unenhanced enjoy. They’re warring against emotion, and see the Savants at divine figures. If there’s anyone to worry about, it’s them.”
“But they’re linked, aren’t they?” comes Tess’s voice. “The guy from the Nameless…didn’t he say something about the Fanatics not being who we think they are?”
Again, Rycard appears a little lost on that one.
“He said that, yes. All I know is that the Fanatics are regular Unenhanced who worship the Savants. They agree that logic is the only way forward, and that emotion should be eliminated. Clearly, the attack the other day was intended to spread fear, and to get more people to side with their beliefs. It’s them who concern me far more than the Nameless.”
I had no idea that all this was going on beneath the surface. This supposed utopia of Inner Haven isn’t quite what is seems. If what Rycard says is true, these Nameless are everywhere, hidden in plain sight.
It’s like they’re the opposite of the Fanatics, Unenhanced who are rebelling against the lives and culture and freedoms of their own people. Hidden among the streets of Outer Haven, performing regular jobs and seemingly, on the surface at least, just normal citizens.
Are the Nameless the same? Are they to Inner Haven what the Fanatics are to Outer?
Unfortunately, rather than loosening her up, the apple wine seems to be having the opposite effect on Sophie. I can see her growing visibly aggravated by the conversation, something that Rycard isn’t oblivious to himself.
To temper the storm, he suggests that we drop the discussion and turn our attention to other things, namely other aspects of life here in Inner Haven that might be of interest to us.
As we begin talking about how the two of them met, Sophie appears to climb back out of her shell. Tess, too, pricks up her ears and sets about learning the procedures involved in marrying up and finding a husband among the Enhanced.
Her affections for Rycard have now become abundantly clear to all, only made more pronounced by regular gulps of wine. When her glass is empty, she asks for another. Sophie and Rycard, operating on the same wavelength now, tell her they don’t have any more.
The look they share suggests to me that it’s a fib. And a smart one, given how Tess is acting.
The dinner concludes soon after, Sophie announcing that our passes are to expire soon and that we need to pass back across the wall. She leads us to the door, where we get the opportunity to say goodbye to Rycard.
As he shakes Tess’s hand, she takes her chance to step in and give him a hug. He laughs as Sophie prises her away and leads her out of the door, saying ‘come on, let’s get you home’, as she goes.
Standing alone with Rycard now, I thank him for his hospitality and generosity, putting emphasis on the final word. I hope he gets that I’m talking about the information he provided.
The smile on his face suggests he does.
Before he ushers me through the door, however, he inspects me a little closer. His eyes intensify and I notice his pupils, hidden within his dark brown irises, begin to dilate and expand.
They stare straight into my eyes, unblinking, in a manner that reminds me of Deputy Burns. And as he does, a little frown begins to hover.
It only lasts a moment, and then he seems to snap out of it, smiling once more.
“Have a safe journey home, Brie. I’m sure I’ll see you around Outer Haven sometime.”
With a little nod, he turns and shuts the door, as his wife beckons me from down the hall.
14
The journey home is swift, my mind occupied.
We return to the self-driving car – a merciful function given the amount of apple wine Sophie has drunk – and cover the short stretch towards the western gate of the perimeter wall.
As before, the same Brute appears at the window and takes the necessary details from our guide. Confirming everything to be in order, he lets us pass, the gate once more splitting down the middle and revealing the western quarter of Outer Haven ahead.
As we re-enter the world I’m so intimate with, I look upon the streets with a slightly different eye. Partially, that is to do with the comfort of home, the feeling you get when returning to the place you know from somewhere that’s so alien.
Yet it’s more than that. I feel different now, a slight change in me, brought about by the events of the day and the ensuing revelations. You might say that a paranoia is burgeoning in me, a concern that this city isn’t quite what it appears.
I imagine that maybe Mrs Carmichael’s had it right all along. That her deep-seated wariness and distrust of Inner Haven, and the Savants in particular, isn’t founded on mere bitterness, or even rumour, but a more profound knowledge of how things operate around here.
I’m so preoccupied with the thought that I hardly notice it when Tess’s stomach heaves and she threatens to throw up.
“Not in here you don’t!” says Sophie, calling for the car to stop.
It does so abruptly, and Tess is shunted from the vehicle and down a dirty side-street – the sort of place where an ample coating of vomit will do little to alter the décor – where she manages to regain her faculties and spare her own blushes. In the end, the alleyway is denied the contents of Tess’s stomach.
As she climbs back into the car, telling us she’s ‘OK’ in a queasy manner that’s completely unconvincing, I consider that no one in Inner Haven would ever act in such a fashion.
We continue on, the neon lights brightening as we enter into the busiest district in the quarter. The streets are filled with pedestrians, a not wholly unusual thing to see at this time. And yet, their numbers are certainly more dramatic than usual, swarms of them all staring skyward with arched necks and wide, unblinking eyes.
I search for the source and quickly find it: large screens operating across the city are already re-showing footage of the ceremony. The local passion for rumour and speculation – something the Inner Haveners evidently don’t share with us – will be being put into action. And no doubt both my face and Tess’s will now be known from the far reaches of the north to the deep recesses of the south.
I suspect that my visage, however, will be more memorable, owing to nothing more than the fact that it was me up on stage when the interruption came. Hence, these replays will naturally feature me each time.
As such, I prime myself for a barrage of questioning as the vehicle works its way back towards the academy. When we arrive, Sophie is quick to push Tess out of the door, her stomach once more beginning to churn and lurch.
“OK girls, it was wonderful seeing you again,” she says. “Don’t be strangers now…”
Her voice is cut off by the door closing. Then, without delay, the car shoots off again.
I usher Tess inside, warning her as we go to sharpen up in case Mrs Carmichael is there. As with her intolerance of swearing – a great irony given her penchant for such things – our guardian has a similar dislike of seeing any of the residents of the academy drunk, a state of mind that she regularly enters.
She’ll forgive the odd slip, and the occasional bout of tipsiness, but full inebriation is generally off-limits. That’s a benefit that she reserves for herself alone.
When we pass the threshold – or stumble, in Tess’s case – into the academy, we find that the front hall is empty. It’s a blessing, and one I don’t intend
to waste.
With a sudden haste, I guide Tess up the winding stairs towards the second floor. As we go, I hear the distant sound of chatter coming from the common room on the ground floor. Given how that’s where the only small television is, I assume everyone is in there now, glued to the screen and frantically formulating conspiracy theories.
The twisting shape of the staircase is too much for Tess’s stomach, which finally gives way. With her wits hanging on by a thread, she cups her hand to her mouth to hold back the putrid tide, and I rush her along towards the communal bathroom.
It’s empty. Thank God.
I thrust her in, and recoil as she finally lets fly, clinging to the toilet bowl for dear life.
“Jesus, Tess,” I say. “You didn’t have that much wine…”
“It’s the food…” she says between heaves. “Too…rich…”
“Sure, the food…” I laugh.
The next few minutes are an unpleasant affair as I hover outside, listening to her retching and heaving beyond the door. When she’s finally done, I escort her back to our room, and set about seeing her to bed.
“Brie…you’re not my mum,” she mutters as I make sure she brushes her teeth – that one is particularly important – and tuck her under the covers, her dress now discarded.
It seems that Sophie didn’t ask for them back, suggesting we get to keep them. I make a mental note to take mine straight down to the market to sell on, peeling it off and hanging it up as carefully as I can on the end of my bed. Then, I pull on a pair of jeans, t-shirt, jumper, and jacket – clothes I feel far more comfortable in – and leave the room.
It’s still quite early, so I have time to kill. I consider going down to join the others in the common room, but know that doing so will open me up to a full on interrogation. It’s not something I want to deal with right now.
Instead, I move down one floor and head to Drum’s room, which he shares with two others boys of similar age, Ziggy and Fred. Like Drum, they’re at risk of losing their beds here. With a host of youngsters speeding towards the working age of 15, room will have to be made to accommodate them when they level up from the ground floor.