Fading Control

by TW Iain

  Don’s words‌—‌not the exact utterances but the feel of them‌—‌hovered within, the sensation that events were moving, that momentum was building. The warriors’ development had been a success, and now it was time to use them in operations.

  Of course, there was already the operation around First‌—‌the assistance offered to Garrick, and then the movement of the army into Red. But that was merely an appetiser. The main course was being prepared, ingredients mingling in the prep areas of the Factories, the recipe the result of dedicated work within Authority itself.

  The analogies with food, coming so readily to Cat’s mind, hid another meaning, and Cat pondered them as he adjusted his jacket.

  His mind made one of those jumps, and he recalled how Rodin, undercover as that artist’s assistant, had shown himself quite the food prep expert. The younger Brodie, as far as Cat was aware, showed no such promise, but Cat understood how the subsequent events of his life had forced Rodin to become self-sufficient. Despite his simple lifestyle, he still held the appreciation of the finer things in life common in the Domes. It was evident in the way he cared for the tools of his trade, the manner in which he strove to become an expert assassin. And when those things were removed, his drive for the best became evident in the more mundane tasks he performed for Sertio.

  Rodin, Cat knew, believed himself manipulated, and still felt the hand of Authority on his shoulder, forcing his actions. Of course, Cat shared these feelings, conscious of the invisible hand that guided so many of his own actions, and that pushed him in paths he would rather not tread. But tread them he did, because resistance would raise flags within Authority, because he was of more use to the cause if he remained deeply embedded in the enemy’s organisation.

  But he was distracting himself. He needed to follow the threads‌—‌opening the Dome, Authority’s warrior program, and Rodin.

  Why Rodin? The man had become a prickly asset, but a vital piece in this game. Without Rodin, the Factory to the north of First would still be in the hands of Authority. Without Rodin, it was quite possible that Genna would be no more. And without Rodin, Paskia would have never emerged from her brittle shell.

  Was this another train of thought he should follow? Paskia was no longer the sweet, troubled girl who had first entered Correction. She was tough, learning fast, surprising even Cat in her dedication and her determination. She’d killed, both in the heat of the moment and with calm forethought.

  Paskia and Rodin, once Brodie. Authority, through Cat, pushed them when they were younger, when they were a part of that youthful group of rebels in Ross. Authority wanted to make an example of them. It had moulded them into one version of their potential selves.

  And Cat had given them an extra nudge, taken that potential into new directions.

  Things became clear in hindsight, but only for those still alive. To understand Authority’s machinations, Cat needed to project himself forward, to imagine what Authority could accomplish through current events.

  Authority’s primary goal‌—‌it’s given reason for existence, was to protect the Domes. On the face of it, there was no reason for Authority to involve itself in the minutia of life in the districts, but it did this anyway. Cat was living proof of that, but there were larger examples‌—‌Garrick, for one. Authority used that man to strengthen their position.

  And they could do the same within the Dome. Authority was insidious, seeping into every facet of life, inserting agents in every field of business, every aspect of society. That way, they not only remained cognisant of everything happening under the glass‌—‌and elsewhere‌—‌but also were in position to influence the path of events.

  It made sense that they’d know of the plot to open the gates. As far as Cat understood‌—‌as far as he could understand, on the scant information he had‌—‌they had not yet closed down the operation, even though he was certain they had the power to do this. Whoever Shae’s contact was, it wouldn’t take much for Authority to arrange a relocation.

  So Authority allowed the plot to go ahead. Which meant they had something to gain from it.

  Cat breathed in the Dome’s filtered air as he trod the debris-free streets, taking a leaf from Rodin’s book‌—‌using physical motion to spur on the mind. As he walked, Cat listened to the quiet voice inside.

  Authority controlled everything within the Dome. They were not only aware of the plot, but in a position to manipulate it.

  But this was repetition. He needed to go deeper.

  Deeper, like the passages underground. Many gates, but only a few that could open, a few that were controlled, ultimately, by Authority. Even the ones ‘unknown’ were monitored. How else would it have come to Authority’s attention that Rodin was an ideal candidate for the contract on Leopold?

  And the small, quiet voice whispered, the breath of the words chilling Cat.

  He didn’t allow his tread to falter, even as his heart pounded. He took another long breath as he allowed the words the voice spoke to echo around his consciousness, giving himself time to understand them.

  The plot to open the gates was not an act of rebellion, but was being orchestrated by Authority itself.

  - 34 -

  “You’re being used,” Shae said as soon as Parren took his seat next to her.

  It wasn’t the opening he was expecting, of course, and as he turned to her, mouth hanging open, she continued.

  “The scheme you spoke of last time we communicated‌—‌I’ve received intelligence, from a source I trust, that suggests outside interference.” She paused. “Do I need to say more?”

  Parren remained silent, his head turning to take in the landscape before the bench. Shae had chosen the park, conscious that such a location would be a suitable rendezvous for old friends recently reacquainted, and would not provoke suspicions in anyone observing.

  “And I have many assurances,” Parren said, his voice calmer than the jerking of his hands suggested, “that the scheme is entirely sound. Why should I put more faith in the words of your source than my own?”

  Shae let out a sigh and stretched her body.

  The message from Cat had been a shock, but after allowing her mind to follow his logic Shae understood. She’d also seen that Parren wouldn’t accept this version of events. And so, she’d prepared her argument, much like Councillors rehearsed their words prior to delivery in the Chamber.

  “My work over the years has been fascinating,” she said, conscious that this jump in the conversation would catch Parren off-guard, forcing him to pay closer heed to her words. “When I wrote those articles on Correction, my research brought to my attention many stories that I simply couldn’t tell. Articles must be succinct, after all, but some stories uncover truths that would attract unwanted attention. I believe one of those stories might be apposite to this situation.”

  She glanced across at Parren, the kind of look that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. He gave her a nondescript nod, urging her to continue. He even managed a slight smile.

  “Imagine a young woman with a free, playful nature. She enjoys playing pranks, and initially these are received in good spirit. But there is always the drive to outdo oneself, and over time her pranks became more‌…‌troublesome, let us say. Oh, there was nothing damaging in them, but Authority monitored the situation, and they envisaged larger problems should the situation continue. They made attempts at stifling the young woman’s wayward nature, but to no avail. There was no legitimate cause for them to intervene directly‌—‌and I’m sure you understand what I mean by such words‌—‌and so, they decided to take a more radical approach.”

  Shae paused, and it was clear that Parren was listening with intent, although his expression gave no signs of understanding yet. She had hoped that this point in her story would register in some way‌—‌and it didn’t matter that the tale was a combination of tellings, was as much fiction as it was fact. She had hoped Parren intelligent enough to join the dots himself.

  His expressi
on remained defiant, though, his idealism winning out against her cold logic.

  “We both know how important freedom is,” she continued. “We have freedom of both actions and thought. But this creates a paradox for those in charge. For the supposed good of the many, an individual is free to act in any way they wish, so long as those actions don’t impede on the freedoms of others. This young woman was not yet crossed that line, but she fast approached it. It was only a matter of time before she overstepped that invisible boundary.”

  “You’re repeating yourself, my dear,” Parren said, frowning.

  “I’m stressing the point. But I’ll move on.” At least the man was eager to hear what she had to say. “A new case-worker was assigned to this young woman, one who presented a far more open attitude. In fact, this case-worker actively encouraged the woman’s wayward behaviour. Together, after many meetings, they contrived to ‘have some fun’.”

  Shae smiled. “Possibly you can already track the inevitable path. Their schemes grew in size, developing from mere pranks into genuinely upsetting incidents. They infringed on the safety and peace of mind of others, and Authority had no option but to intervene. The poor manipulated young thing was taken into Correction, unable to plead any kind of case.” She glanced at Parren. “You see the parallels to our current situation?”

  His face grew pale, and he swallowed. Shae gave him time to think.

  “No,” he whispered. “I can’t accept that.”

  “Is that a choice you’re making?” Shae asked. “You can’t accept that others are manipulating this scheme of yours because there’s some fault in the logic, or you won’t accept it because you so desperately want this scheme to succeed?”

  His lip quivered, and his eyes widened. For a moment, Shae believed she’d broken through. But then Parren turned away, his face stern.

  “I’m not a fool,” he said. “I’ll admit I’ve had my doubts over this scheme, and I’ve raised questions. But a great deal of thought has gone into this, a number of intelligent minds moulding it, actively seeking out problems in order to eliminate them. And there have been safeguards implemented to eradicate influence from those opposed to our scheme.” He shook his head. “It isn’t a matter of what I believe. I don’t choose. This scheme is secure, and it is important. I won’t be dissuaded.”

  There was strength in his voice, but the words held a shade of rote, as if they were ones he’d read or heard elsewhere.

  “I know this must be a shock,” she said. “I can understand, even share, your desire for this scheme to work. But, please, take your time. Don’t dismiss what my source has uncovered. Don’t make a mistake here, my friend.”

  She reached out to rest a hand on his arm. But he shook her off.

  “You can’t manipulate me like that. All you’ve offered is‌…‌ideas. There’s no proof behind your words. Bring me something concrete, and I might entertain your thoughts. But until then, I’m firm in my convictions.”

  His voice might have been quiet, but the determination was still evident. Arguments rose in Shae’s mind, but she’d always been adept at reading others, and the flash of indignation in Parren’s eyes was hard to ignore. Further pressure would do nothing but entrench him even more.

  She nodded. “Very well. I tried. Honestly, I’m disappointed‌—‌it is my belief, in light of the information supplied by my source, that your scheme will fail precisely because it is guaranteed to succeed. You’re being manipulated, my friend.”

  She swallowed, realised how hard it had been to call Parren a friend. Shae usually had no difficulty in bandying about that meaningless word, but‌…‌but she would miss Parren. Yes, he was an idiot, and he was as annoying as a prick from a thorn, but he was also a good man. He’d even stood up to Terrell, in his roof garden, while knowing that this intruder was a mercenary from the districts.

  She stood, the suddenness of the movement making Parren jump.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat, “I have a busy schedule. I thank you for your time, and I’d ask you to reconsider your position. Don’t be too quick to dismiss my words.”

  He nodded, but didn’t speak, his eyes hard and cold now.

  She took in a breath, and wanted to say a polite few words. She wanted to say she’d see Parren some other time. But she had no wish to give either of them false hope.

  - 35 -

  No Dome was impenetrable. Cat had learnt this truth early on, and had suspected it for even longer. Becoming a part of Authority merely showed him how easy it was for certain people to enter and leave.

  Certain people like Cat himself.

  He always used official routes when he could, even though he was aware of others, those gateposts that charged a small fortune, the ones that believed themselves to be operating beneath Authority’s vision. Using the unofficial routes would open Cat up to the possibility of compromise, and would attract unwanted attention. The fees charged weren’t extortionate for one who had a degree of access to Authority’s funds, but the smell of money lingered, and there were always those ready to follow the scent.

  The half-way house in Ross‌—‌and it must show forethought that official routes in all Domes were referred to as half-way houses‌—‌was a small affair in the middle of long stretches of tunnel. It took Cat ten minutes to walk the first section, the route twisting and turning, the lighting an even orange glow that, he knew, was designed to disorientate. There were four doors, each protected by sensors and checks‌—‌password for intent, biometrics for identity confirmation, image for second opinion, and body scan for weapons‌—‌and then he reached the small group of rooms.

  “Good evening, Salika,” he said to the slender woman behind the desk.

  “Good to see you again, sir.” She looked up with a smile, but her fingers continued to tap on her screen.

  Cat waved a hand. “After the years we’ve known each other, there’s no need for such formality, my dear.”

  “But it’s easier than calculating what name you’re using today.” She tilted her head, allowing a braid of hair to fall across one cheek. “Besides, its protocol. You wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, would you, sir?”

  “There merest whiff of a complaint against you, and you’d turn on the charm to melt your superior’s hearts, my dear.” Cat stepped closer. “So how are you finding Ross? How does it compare to First?”

  “Three months in, and I still haven’t seen much beyond this place and my own room. You know how it is.”

  Cat did, unfortunately. Those like Salika were hard workers, doing jobs that the residents under the glass could never be aware of‌—‌and for that, they were ‘sheltered’, allowed only certain freedoms.

  He’d always meant to look into Salika’s history, even back when she was working as an ‘unofficial’ gatekeeper in First, to see if there were records of her difficulties with Authority, to read of any time spent in Correction. After all, roles within the half-way houses‌—‌roles within the whole of Authority‌—‌weren’t applied for so much as assigned, each individual presented with an offer they would struggle to turn down.

  “How are things back in the south?” she asked, and her mouth twitched, her eyes darting down to her screen.

  He hid his surprise at this potential breach of etiquette, this‌…‌apparent friendship. “Last time I was in First, things were much the same as always.”

  “I’m not really sure what that means.” Her fingers had slowed down now, the tapping sporadic, a brief flurry and then a pause. “I hardly saw anyone anyway.”

  There was a look in her eye that Cat couldn’t quite figure out, so he gave what he considered his friendly expression, the one he wore most often under the glass‌—‌a vague smile, head often to one side or the other as he spoke.

  “We’re all called upon to perform our roles, I suppose. But I’d imagine you were privy to information hidden to others, and had a unique perspective on life around First.”

&nb
sp; He was careful with his phrasing‌—‌‘around First’, not ‘under the glass’ or anything similarly limiting. Neither did he hint at any of her roles‌—‌she’d proved herself useful to Authority, and had worked on various gates, even in one of the half-way houses.

  His words produced the effect he was after‌—‌a softening of her features and the slightest of nods.

  “I’ll admit I heard things, sometimes read of them‌—‌inadvertently, of course.”

  Cat waved a hand, brushed off any hint of accusation, and leaned closer. He could see the edge of the twin screens beneath the raised side of the desk, although what they showed was hidden, only visible to Salika.

  She continued. “Do you know, you’re one of the few agents who took the time to talk to me, beyond a few pleasantries. Some barely acknowledged my existence, especially when they passed by in pairs or small groups, so wrapped up in their own conversations. Of course, I busied myself in my own duties, but where it is possible to turn away from a sight we should not be viewing, it isn’t so easy to avoid overhearing conversations not for our ears.”

  “And so many believe your role to be a simple administrative one,” Cat said, leaning into her desk. “I doubt many even stop to consider the implications of what passes before you.”

  “It’s pleasing that you understand, sir. And maybe my‌…‌ability to partition off whatever I overheard has resulted in my promotion.”

  Cat smiled, as she wished. “One well overdue, although I wonder if the relocation was to your liking.”

  She tilted her head again, and this time her smile was tinged with steel. “Sometimes it’s better to leave a situation‌—‌or a particular individual‌—‌than waste time and effort working through their issues.”