Direct Contact

by Ninette Swann

  * * * *

  Julie settled Anna back into her bed. With Twenty-six’s interview, she prayed the emperor would be too busy to do a check of the girls. She could put off the guards if they came on their rounds, but the emperor always insisted on a viewing. He would be too busy, she told herself, worrying, far too busy to bother with the other girls.

  She crossed the room, wetting a cloth to smooth over Anna’s forehead. She had almost taken the safety liquid, her luminous blue eyes lingering on the vials in front of her, knowing the importance of her decision, but not understanding the details…the details no one knew but Julie, George and the other girls who had decided to join them.

  Julie shuddered. She remembered the hellacious nightmare Anna would now endure. The dream sequence would provide a crash course on the realities of life in The Levels and would get mixed with a dose of Anna’s worst fears, whatever insecurities she kept hidden deep inside.

  For Julie, it had been a long, darkened corridor, filled with smoke, the small windows above letting in little light right before they shattered, spraying glass atop her and cutting her skin in deep gashes. She had been running from something that had never materialized, but that she’d known beyond doubt was gruesome and out to kill and torture her. She’d run down the endless hallway, never seeing an exit, as images of impoverished, dirty, baleful people flashed through her peripheral vision. A starving child, a rotting corpse, the stench of a smoke-filled alley, syringes dripping blood, maniacal laughter, tough-looking youngsters without shoes but with knives, killing each other in the streets she couldn’t reach.

  She had yet to see The Levels, but since the awakening, she’d been able to piece together what escaping the paradise of Terrecina would be like. Every few weeks, she took a truncated version of the carrier serum injecting herself to continue the preparation for her descent to The Levels. The serum, which she and George developed together and called “antibodies” was so much more than that. It worked only with the female chromosomes and had nothing to do with reproduction, but some of the same effects lingered, including speed and strength of an almost inhuman nature. It also caused telling dreams, full of street signs, faces and warnings—hints to guide her when she finally made a break for it. She reminded herself that the nightmares were worth the strength, speed and intelligence she gained with each needle prick. So was the infertility. So why did it make her so selfishly sad?

  Anna moaned and shifted under the weight of Julie’s palm, sweating in her dreams, and Julie’s heart wrenched. Nothing about this would be easy.

  There were only days left now, maybe even hours, before she had to approach Twenty-six and put the final plans for the escape into play. She hoped Anna would be ready in time. Anything could happen after that.

  * * * *

  Malcolm was out of breath by the time he reached the old library in George’s wing of the palace. He’d completed his brief survey of Twenty-six, where he assessed her mental capabilities and okayed her for the meeting she was now having with the emperor, who insisted on seeing the girls alone, save his customary guards. He was able to assess them better that way, he said.

  Standing at the doors of his destination, he hesitated for just a moment, fear briefly passing through him. He could stop all this right now. He could turn around, put the key back in his ceiling and prepare to test and inject number Twenty-six, as was his job. Then Twenty-seven. Anna. He winced. He could kill her. But he wouldn’t let that happen. Exhilaration flared in him, and he let himself into the dusty room.

  He scanned the area quickly, making note of his previous disturbance, marked by the absence of heavy dust. If Julie didn’t have access to the wing in which the notes were kept, they must be here in the library because George’s room was gone.

  A thought snagged in Malcolm’s brain.

  George’s room couldn’t be gone unless the emperor had filled the entirety of it with cement. If Malcolm walked over to the library’s far wall then hung a left and continued down the back hallway, he’d be face-to-face with the back end of George’s old room.

  He traversed the steps quickly and found himself staring at a half-empty bookshelf, the metallic unit was movable, unlike the other stacking shelves in the room. Sliding his fingers around the back end of the frame, he took in the rough texture of the walls. He hit a patch of smooth space. Quickly, he felt for the edges of the pattern change, and the area was a square patch, two feet by two feet. He’d have to move the shelf.

  Pulling on the metal made the material made a screech, then the back legs moved off the old tile floor and onto the carpet, which everywhere else was wall-to-wall. Oddly, against this small section, the carpet ended two inches before the flooring did, leaving a small gap. Without the unit in the way, Malcolm saw why. A haphazard door was shaped in the wall behind it, and the carpeting had been ripped away in an amateur fashion. Whoever had made this “secret” entrance had done it quickly and rather carelessly. It was blind luck that the emperor hated the library and all things associated with the time before The Collapse. There wasn’t a keyhole anywhere, though. Malcolm gritted his teeth. He pushed on the panel, first gently then harder then with all his strength. It refused to budge. In frustration, he kicked the bottom of it. He heard a click, and the panel slid into the wall leaving a darkened tunnel before him.

  Perhaps it wasn’t as quickly and carelessly put together as he’d first assumed, Malcolm acknowledged as he lowered to his hands and knees to get into the crawl space.

  He tried to protect his face from the sticky cobwebs that had accumulated since the creation of this hole by tucking his head toward his chest. The cool, gritty surface below him scraped his hands. He even felt it through the tough material of his jeans. He hit the end of the space with his hand, just barely saving his face from coming into contact with the hard wall. Blinded by darkness now, he felt around for anything that could be a latch or a release. He found it, again at the very bottom of the wall near the floor. A tiny button, barely perceptible to his fingers’ touch.

  He pushed it.

  The panel slid to the side, and Malcolm found himself in the quarters of his old boss.

  Everything looked eerily in place, though cast in shadow. The only light came from one tiny window on the right-hand wall. Malcolm didn’t dare turn on the lights, for fear of drawing attention to the wing. Who knew if palace guards were monitoring electricity or what precautions had been taken with this room before it had been sealed off.

  George’s bed was bare. In the stuffy atmosphere of the room, mildew had formed on one corner. His clothing and effects were untouched, all scattered about, and the dust accumulation was the only clue the room wasn’t currently in use. His desk sat regally beneath that tiny window, its sharp edges obscured by papers, hastily scribbled notes and a closed laptop computer.

  Malcolm tiptoed to the desk, overcome by the stifling silence and atmosphere of a room that had been closed for so long. The air was musty and dank, and the papers curled slightly at the edges. He shuddered when he noticed a half-full cup of molded-over coffee, sitting atop a stack of statistical data.

  Ignoring it, he opened the drawers. All but one were unlocked. The bottom left drawer didn’t open at first touch. Thankfully, the emperor hadn’t decided to investigate this room thoroughly before closing it off. It occurred to Malcolm that the emperor might have been afraid of what he’d find. Either that or he was conceited enough to believe that there was nothing of import here. But then, why seal the room? And if he planned to close off the room, why not confiscate everything within it first?

  Malcolm didn’t have time to mull over such questions now. The emperor would be done with Twenty-six soon and wanting to discuss his plans with Malcolm in the atrium.

  Malcolm checked his watch. He had just forty-five minutes to be dressed and waiting for the leader of Terrecina. He reached a sweaty palm into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the key.

  It slipped easily into the hole at the top of the drawer and turned
with an echoing click. The heavy metal slid out and inside was a wooden box. Wood. An interesting choice for a kingdom with very little of that particular resource. George had always had a soft spot for it.

  Malcolm popped the lid, the springs of the old hinges holding one end in place. Within, he found a spiral notebook, three vials of red liquid and three vials of blue.

  No time.

  He grabbed George’s calculations and stuffed the tubes into his front jeans pocket. He replaced the box’s lid, shoved it back in the drawer, closed the whole thing and took the key out of the box before slamming it shut.

  Careful not to disturb anything else, Malcolm crept out of the room, pushing the wall’s button to replace the panel after he crawled back through.

  Chapter Five

  “We have four days to inject the girl. That’s final.” The emperor’s voice boomed, though he sat just three feet from Malcolm.

  “I would prefer to put the whole program on hold until we figure out why the super-human serum affects the girls so negatively.” Malcolm held the emperor’s gaze, noting that the man’s eyes were no longer watery and old-looking, but young and vibrant.

  “I don’t care about the girls!” The ruler’s hand slammed down on the granite table between them. “They are carriers. Nothing more; nothing less.”

  “The meeting with Twenty-six didn’t go well?”

  “She’s worthless.” The emperor looked away, waving his hand flippantly.

  “Should we amend the education system?” Malcolm hunched over his notes, prepared to mark down changes, but the emperor shook his head.

  “It’s not what we’re teaching them,” he said in a dismissive tone. “It’s something inherent in their nature. She answered all my questions correctly enough, but she simply doesn’t have the mental capacity to raise my child.”

  Malcolm tilted his head. “So if this takes?”

  “If this takes, I’ll promote Julie to caregiver for the royal heir. She appears to be the only woman in this palace worth her space.” The emperor waggled his eyebrows. “Of course, that would mean you’d have to stop fucking her.”

  Malcolm was shocked by the use of such vulgar language. It wasn’t surprising that the emperor kept tabs on his scientist’s “lovers”, but Malcolm hadn’t realized how closely watched he was.

  “I’ll have to get a few more in, while I still can,” he recovered, causing the emperor to laugh lewdly.

  “That’s the spirit, Malcolm. I have to admit,” he turned serious, “I had worries about you at first. Such a bright-eyed, idealistic kid. You seem to have grown into yourself, though. You clearly appreciate a good body on a woman, even if you tend to like them a bit too smart for my tastes.” He chuckled, lightening the mood again. His hair had regained its shine, and the gray was diminishing.

  Malcolm wondered if the emperor had succeeded in concocting a veritable fountain of youth. Other than Malcolm’s procreation program and the defense system for Terrecina, the only scientific research condoned by the emperor was that of finding immortality.

  The emperor was vain and enjoyed discussions about his looks. It could buy Malcolm a little time, so he decided to bring it up.

  “You’re looking quite well these days,” he ventured. “Wouldn’t you like Julie for yourself? I’ll take her off my list if it would please you.” He hated grousing, but in this world, it was a necessary evil. He tried to hide his disgust at the thought of Julie and the emperor together.

  The emperor laughed. “Oh no. I wouldn’t touch her. Beautiful woman, no doubt, but like I said, too much brain on her. I wouldn’t want a feisty one like that in my personal quarters. In fact, before I give her access to my son, I’ll have to ensure her loyalty to me.”

  “Is she questionable?” Malcolm consciously widened his eyes.

  The emperor shrugged. “Only by virtue of the company she keeps. Before you, she took up with Hawin. The man was trouble and may very well have poisoned her mind.” He paused then stared at Malcolm. “You’ll keep an eye out for rebellious patterns in her?”

  “Of course,” Malcolm assured him. “George is long dead by now, and I haven’t seen her speak of him, other than when I bring him up.”

  The emperor sighed. “I know George meant a lot to you, as your mentor, but be aware that he was not all that he seemed. I trusted him, and he betrayed that trust. His demise, as sorry as I am for it, had to be. He was an insidious threat to our New Government.”

  Malcolm opened then closed his mouth. An admission of guilt from the emperor?

  In Malcolm’s silence, the emperor continued, a note of warning in his voice. “I trust you would not like the same fate.”

  Malcolm nodded in thought. “No, of course not, Your Majesty. Your rule of Terrecina keeps everyone happy, healthy, fed and successful. Why George would ever mess with that is beyond me. I mean, I loved the man, but I had no idea he was a threat to the government.”

  The emperor patted Malcolm’s arm from across the table. Malcolm assumed the private meeting in the dining nook in the inner wing of Rouble Palace made the emperor more comfortable in showing affection.

  “I know, son. I know.” Clearing his throat, the emperor made as if to stand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to finish. Send me Twenty-six’s vital report in two days and arrange a meeting between me and Twenty-seven for next week.”

  Malcolm swallowed. “And should the girl perish?”

  The emperor rolled his eyes. “You and your respect for life. If she perishes, dispose of her or have one of the attendants do it. It would mean she obviously wasn’t strong enough to carry my seed.”

  With a wave of his ringed hand, the emperor dismissed Malcolm. After the heavy stone door closed behind him, Malcolm hurried back to his quarters to dig out the notebook he’d hidden without looking at it earlier today. He made a stop by Michelle’s desk to request Julie for the evening, his heart beating faster as he did. Their meetings looked to be more dangerous than he first thought. While the emperor seemed to be amused by the coupling, his acute interest in it could lead to intense scrutiny. The mirth could easily have been a cover. If he suspected Malcolm of treason, he could have them closely watched. And right now, they needed to fly under the radar.

  * * * *

  Malcolm jammed his hand through his hair. George’s writings spoke of terror and hopelessness. What had started as a clinical lab description had morphed into a sordid tale of haves and have-nots, of life and death, of smoke and poverty and human life and death. By the millions every day. Right beneath their feet.

  As it turned out, The Collapse wasn’t over, as those living on Terrecina had been led to believe. The rest of the world was caught in a veritable dark-age. Instead of helping, Terrecina had blocked itself off in a world of glass and light. Instead of reaching out and sharing resources a small segment of the population had propelled itself up into the sky and lied to its children about what really surrounded them. And how long could Terrecina sustain itself? As those who knew the truth slowly died off, would their myths about The Level People truly keep everyone here in line? Didn’t those suffering below deserve medical attention, food and education?

  Malcolm hunched over his desk under the fluorescent lights in his room and started again from the beginning of the notebook. This time, he looked for clues that could lead to a plan.

  The descriptions of the first girl were matter-of-fact. A twenty-year-old in fine physical shape.

  I have misgivings about the serum, George had written. While all experiments have gone according to hypothesis, it’s never been tested on the human body…

  When the girl had died, the notes had remained formulaic. Her vitals and stats were marked each hour as she sickened then eventually passed, two days after the injection. Malcolm flipped through the pages. All looked on track to continue with the implantation study until two weeks before Number Two’s injection.

  Number Two continues to show a vibrancy unmatched by the other girls, unmatche
d by any other woman I’ve met. Her brain patterns elevate when given the cleansing drugs, as opposed to slowing down as they are supposed to. Of late, she’s taken to seeking me out via thought paths, though I don’t know how this is being accomplished. At any time, these days, I’ll simply “hear” her in my head. It appears I can “talk” back to her, but we’ve never been able to go back and forth more than a few times. I wonder if something in the emperor’s baths react with her body chemistry in a way to open these channels up. Whatever it is, it is very rare. It will be a pity to inject her. Even if she lives (which is unlikely given I haven’t had success improving the serum or even figuring out the problem) she will hate every moment of being pregnant with the emperor’s child. She tells me in our exchanges that she is not special at all. I don’t know how to respond so that she can hear me, but I feel she may be the most special of all.

  Mention of Number Two ceased after that, except for a brief, incomplete documentation of her illness and death. The emperor had ordered her burned as an honor to her station and sacrifice.

  Malcolm shuddered at the practice. It had been going on ever since.

  More numbers, formulas and chicken scratch followed, all meant to stabilize the serum so the Special One’s bodies would accept it without turning on themselves. Nothing seemed to conclusive. Malcolm skimmed over it. He already knew all that.

  Three had died and were burned.

  Julie showed up in the notes, mysteriously, around the time they had been testing Number Four for child-bearing readiness. There was no background on where she’d come from. Malcolm assumed her parents must have shipped her to the castle for a bit of extra spending money. The emperor bought his help from his people with gold and goodwill. A chance to work at Rouble Palace never went ignored. Families made a lot of money off it, and the young adults chosen felt lucky to be there. Apparently, George had played an instrumental role in getting her situated. Perhaps, he’d even picked the girl himself when one of the other attendants had retired. Either way, at his recommendation, Julie had been interviewed by the emperor then sent to work with the Special Ones.