by JT Lawrence
“He’s going out of the stadium,” says Silver. “Mally’s leaving.”
“Where?” says Kate, “Can you see him?”
Silver nods. “Number green-red,” she says.
Kate looks around, frantic. She can’t see exit 49 from here, how can Silver?
“Green-red,” she says again. “They’re leaving.
Kate’s blood runs cold. “Who is ‘they’?”
Silver just blinks at her. Kate leaves Bongi to sort out the imposter child and runs towards gate 49. Bodies are everywhere, blocking her way, just as desperate as her to get out. They don’t understand the real danger. Green-orange, green-grey, green-purple. Finally they get to green-red. Luckily it’s a less popular exit, and there are fewer people with whom to wrestle.
“Mally!” she shouts, but it comes out a whisper. She runs up to a security guard who is shepherding the crowd out. “Have you seen a little boy?”
The man purses his lips at her. They are surrounded by hordes of little boys. She shows him a photo on her Helix: a picture of Mally’s face. He looks at it but shrugs again; he’s seen a thousand faces today. Kate’s phone keeps ringing. She’s so scared and frustrated and full of vile yellow adrenaline that she wants to pull out her hair. Silver’s eyes light up again as she looks through the fence to the people outside. She lifts her arm and points, like an arrow poised to let fly.
“There,” she says, but she doesn’t have to. Her finger has found her brother, who is being led away by the silhouette of a woman. Kate yells his name over and over, breaking her already broken voice. Free of the crowd, the strange woman and her son are walking at a steady pace, while Kate is stuck behind a herd of babbling idiots.
“Mally!” she shouts, fighting her way through the crowd. The guard, formerly indifferent, sees what is happening and tries to create a path for her: he holds some cursing people back to give Kate room to run. Eventually she breaks free of the maddening throng and sprints up to her son, grabbing him from behind and breaking the stranger’s hold on him. The woman, head-to-toe in yummy-mummy gear, black tights and jacket, designer scarf and fully made-up face, does not seem startled at all by Kate’s feverish appearance.
The split-second before Kate grabs him she imagines she has it wrong, that this isn’t her son and the moment she touches him he’ll turn around, startled, and his face will not be Mally’s. And it would be embarrassing; a terrible misunderstanding. But of course it’s her son, a mother knows how her children look from every angle, how they walk, and here is Mally, here he is, she has found him.
She rips off his hat and throws it to the ground, pulls his face towards hers, feels his sticky cheek. Tear-stained and hot. She’s found him, she’s found him, Jesus Christ, she’d almost lost him.
“I was looking for security,” says the ruby-lipped woman. “I didn’t know who to report him to.”
Kate stands up and looks at her; brown eyes devoid of kindness. Two raisins on a plate.
“You were walking towards the parking lot.” Kate looks back at the security guard but he is busy with someone else. “Security is that way,” she says, thumb pointing back towards the stadium gates. Silver stares at the petite woman in black.
“There was so much confusion,” says the woman. “I thought it was best to move away from the bomb threat.” She’s not backing down. She smiles too much. A practised smile, a smile honed to make you want to trust her, but Kate knows better than that. It’s too wide, and it doesn’t reach her dead-grape eyes.
“The lady was helping me,” says Mally. “She scanned my code. She tried phoning you.”
Kate lifts her shaking arm to look at her Helix and sees twelve missed calls.
“Who are you?” Kate tries to sound strong but her voice is shredded by the shouting and the fright, and there is a high note to it that she doesn’t recognise.
“I’m no one,” says the woman. “Goodbye, Mally.” She ruffles his hair.
Kate pulls him away from her. The woman puts her sunglasses back on and walks away, the tail of her scarf floating behind her.
Kate falls onto her knees. She looks Mally in the eyes, searching for damage, but there is none. People continue to stream past them, not paying them any mind. They are flotsam stuck in a river. She hugs both twins, head bowed, in a huddle, as if they are saying a prayer.
Chapter 30
Switch Blade
The Cape Republic, 2024
The printing arms set to soundless work and Seth instantly regrets it. He taps the ‘CANCEL’ button over and over but the machine has other ideas. He looks for somewhere to switch it off but it seems to be self-powered.
“Shit.” He says, “Shit,” as he tries to cancel it again, but the printer is already well on its way, with 04:16 to go on its completion timer. He sits on the floor and, with his hands covering his mouth and nose, watches the printer work as it builds Mally up from scratch, layer by layer. Ivory, cream, pink.
Horrifying.
Fascinating.
What has he done?
When the machine is finished, an age-correct, near-perfect copy of Mally stands within the glass shell, naked and vulnerable. Seth climbs up onto the platform again and opens the doors. He approaches the print-out with caution, examines his skin – too clean – and his hair. Touches his shoulder, which feels so life-like his fingers automatically spring away. The boy even has the scar from his newborn vaccinations – the ones for which Seth had taken him to the baby clinic, and had left an angry red nub for weeks afterwards. Seth didn’t realise those records were embedded in his dynap code too. The anthrobot’s eyelids are closed, so Seth uses his thumb to half-open his left eye and he peers in closely. They’re the same as Mally’s, the same as Kate’s. Exactly the same, but –
Both of the eyes spring open, and Seth jumps a foot in the air. His heart sprints. He stumbles backwards, almost falls, then scrambles down from the machine, and ends up face to face with a ginger beard.
“Carson,” he says, but the man doesn’t reply.
“Seth,” comes the voice of Arronax from the dark corner of the room. The overhead lights brighten by a fraction, revealing her sitting there comfortably, long legs crossed. Has she been sitting there all along?
“Sometimes I like to come in here and just look at the machine. I’ve been working on it for over a decade.”
“It’s impressive,” says Seth.
“And yet you don’t seem impressed.”
“Don’t take it personally. It’s just that I’ve seen a – ”
“You’ve seen a more sophisticated version of it. I know. We know. Why do you think we brought you here?”
“I know nothing about printing living things. Unless you need something chemgineered, or a mathematical sequence, I’m not your man.”
“You’re more useful than you know.”
Seth’s body is on high alert. His instinct is to flee, but he has questions. “The synthetic heart was a ruse?”
“Not at all. That heart is the key to everything.”
Seth shakes his head.
“Here, let me show you.” She steps up to the printer and her finger hovers over the button that shocked the mouse. That brought the mouse to life.
“No!” says Seth. “Don’t. Please.”
She ignores him and there is a bolt of electricity that cuts through the chamber and knocks the anthrobot Mally off his feet. The body jitters with the after-effects.
“Damn it! What are you doing?”
He rushes back up the platform and opens the glass doors. Arronax shouts “Don’t!” but he touches the naked body and a flash of energy blazes up his arm and throws him backwards. The breath is knocked out of him, and he stays where he is, watching the boy in horror.
“See?” she says. “The ignition command doesn’t work on him. It doesn’t work on humanoid prints. That’s why we need the heart. The heart you’re working on.”
“You said it was for people who needed heart transplants.”
“T
hat’s a fortunate side business. Good for PR, and for cash injections.”
“I won’t do it.”
“You already have,” she says.
“I haven’t finished. I won’t.”
“Think of all the lives you’ll save.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Arronax pauses, pouts. “You can’t stop progress, you know.”
There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. He gestures to the small naked body sprawled on the platform. “This isn’t progress.”
“You’re taking this too personally. That’s not him, you know. That’s not Mally.”
“Obviously.”
“But what I mean is, that thing’s not human. At all. We print with synth-cells – for now. There are more meat-cells in a Bilchen burger than there are in that body.”
“But it looks – ”
So real? So lifelike?
“Thank you,” she says.
“That was not meant as a compliment.”
“I’ll take it as one, anyway,” she says.
Seth stands up. “I’m out.”
“You can’t leave.”
“Yes,” Seth says, “I can.”
“You’re on contract.”
“I don’t give a fuck about a contract.”
She takes a step forward. “We’ll pay you double. Triple.”
“I’m leaving.” Seth tries to walk past her but Arronax stands in his way – she’s flustered – she looks around the room, perhaps for another angle to sell him on.
“But it’s not real, don’t you understand? If you cut it, it won’t bleed. Here,” she says, rummaging in her lab coat pocket until she pulls out a plastic-capped scalpel. A scientist’s version of a switch blade. She approaches the body on the stage.
“Don’t,” says Seth. “Put that away.”
“I just want to show you – ”
“Put that away!”
Arronax fixes him with her crystalline eyes and the frantic energy in the room slows. She puts her trembling hand on his chest.
“You think I don’t know how you feel about that boy? About Mally? About both of them?”
The psychic switch obviously relays more than simple thoughts. Seth pictures the Genesis Clinic’s printer clearly in his mind, then she takes her hand off his chest.
“Then you’ll know why I can’t do this.”
There is a movement near the passage, and the rat scuttles across the doorway. Without hesitating, Carson stomps on it. A final half-squeak as the rodent is flattened, and Carson lifts up his boot. There is no blood.
Chapter 31
Rubber Bones and Happy Hearts
Johannesburg, 2024
Kate arrives home, grasping the shoulders of both children as if she’ll never let them go again.
“Ow, Mom,” says Mally. Kate is hardly sorry.
She’s about to place her finger on the biometric pad to open the front door when Sebongile puts up her hand and whispers “Wait.”
Kate is so exhausted and relieved to get home she hasn’t been processing the clues: The pad’s LED flashing red; the disabled security alarm; the gate bent ever so slightly; the front door one click away from being properly closed.
“Fuck!” she whispers, grabbing the kids and pulling them even closer. She hits the panic button on her Helix, triggering the silent sting and alerting the security company. Of course, SafeGuard already know about it, and they’re on their way. She just hasn’t seen their bump on her phone.
“You said a bad w– ” says Silver, but Kate slaps her palm against the girl’s mouth to silence her. They pick up a child each and run back towards the elevator. It’s still there, open-mouthed, after delivering them ten seconds earlier. They slide in and Kate presses the ‘close’ button over and over until they’re safely shut inside.
“What’s going on, Mom?” says Mally. Silver says the same thing at almost the exact same time.
“Something looked funny,” says Kate, stroking Mally’s hair with a flat hand. She sees a hundred versions of herself in the mirror, life-size to miniature, and they all look sick.
In her house? They’re in her house?
“Funny?” says Silver.
They know where we live.
“I want to go home,” says Mally.
Sebongile looks ill too.
“I’ve just asked SafeGuard to check it for us, before we go in. Nothing to worry about.” Kate kisses his head. “Just being careful, that’s all.”
Kate installs the nanny and the kids in a private booth in the resident restaurant, orders them fauxburgers and fries and promises them malt soyshakes if they’re really quiet. She finds the manager’s office and asks him for the room, and he takes one look at her feral eyes and agrees, gives her the bottle of water he was just about to drink. Closing the door after him, she dials Seth, but it just rings. She phones the emergency number he left for her and someone strange answers, telling her to speak up, but she can’t. Eventually she gets the message across. Next SafeGuard is on the line and Kate tells them she needs a security escort. Within minutes, two guards arrive. One of the burly men gives her the safeword – 52Hz – to assure her that he can be trusted. It’s a paid-for extra, just like the night beams, the rapid/stealth motion sensors, the steel-reinforced door of the panic room. You can never be too careful, the sign-up guy had said. Seth had called him paranoid, pushy, but Kate liked him then, and she likes him even more now.
She watches the kids slurp up the last of their shakes and for a moment it’s like they’re in some kind of crazy surrealist show. Toasted marshmallow flavour. How can they just sit there, swinging their skinny legs, chatting to Bongi, as if it’s an ordinary day?
She’s reminded of the resilience of kids. Rubber bones and happy hearts. Up to a point, of course. Everyone has their line in the sand.
The guards are wearing the latest in protective gear: Kevlarskin onesies and Russian automatics. They wait patiently for Kate and Sebongile to put the kids’ shoes back on and wipe their faces, then they travel up in the elevator. The space inside the lift, usually generous, seems packed, and sends Kate’s exhausted synapses into overdrive. The mere size of the men who take up so much air-space, the children smelling like spiky tomato sauce and grime. Sebongile smells like cheap soap, and Kate can smell herself too: wilted perfume over body odour and SPF. There’s not a litre of breathable air in the confined space, just a soupy brown mess of colours and textures that brings Kate’s saliva rushing into her mouth. She holds one hand to her lips, the other against the wall of the elevator, and wills herself to not vomit. When the doors slide open she’s the first person out.
The biometric pad has been dusted for prints. Kate doesn’t stop to inspect it: she needs a shower and a whisky, not necessarily in that order. She needs the kids to be safe in their kid-cocoons. She’ll sleep in their room tonight. When she pushes the door open every single light is on.
“Hello?” She takes a few steps inside and cries out when she sees the unconscious body in the hallway.
Chapter 32
Hackspider
“Oh shit,” says Marko to himself. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
He’s busy executing his fourth plague on the Resurrectors’ system files when something appears on his screen that shouldn’t be there. Something he’s only ever heard about but never seen before. It’s a hackspider: code injected into his hard drive that tangles things up, with a vicious virtual bite that can be fatal to his OS. It’s already confused his running system, corrupted important files. His SQL database is reeling.
“Son of a bitch,” he says, typing frantically on his holopad. “Who sent you?”
Marko knows his system is basically impenetrable. Or at least, he thought it was, until now. He tries to catch the spider, tries to squash it, but it’s a slippery thing that is always just out of his grasp. A long minute passes as he chases the autohacker and sees it wreak havoc. He can’t catch it, and he can’t risk it biting, so he executes an emergency
shut down. He force quits the entire system, which he’s never done before and unplugs every cable. He’s sweating: he doesn’t know if it’ll ever come alive again. He sits in the dark, silent room, thoughts buzzing around his head like flies. He needs to go to the bathroom urgently, but he can’t move. Who sent the spider? Who has access to such advanced tech? Someone with a lot of clout knows who he is, and where he is.
Chapter 33
More Lives Than a Cat
“Betty!” Kate cries, running over to the beagle. She crouches next to the dog and puts her hands on her head and flank. Inspects her for injuries. Betty/Barbara’s mouth trembles. She squeaks and her eyes roll back.
“What have they done to you?” she cries, “What have they done?” She strokes the dog’s paralysed body.
A man comes over to her. He’s not wearing a bulletproof onesie, and his SafeGuard e-badge reads: ‘Assessor’.
She hears the twins come in from behind her. Tries to cover up the beagle but it’s too late: they’ve both seen her and their mouths drop open. They’re too shocked to cry. Sebongile sees the dog last and her mouth turns down. They got on well, the two of them. The nanny pulls the kids into the bathroom; there is the sound of water running as she draws their bath.
Kate crouches even further down, kisses the dog on her head, lays an ear on her side, closes her eyes.
“She’s not dead,” says the Assessor, offering her a hand up.
Kate’s eyes flit open. “Do you mean not dead yet?”
“Not dead at all.”
Kate looks at Betty/Barbara, then up at the man again, this huge stranger in her home. He helps her up.
“Now,” he says. “You’ve had a shock.”
He doesn’t know the least of it.
“Come and sit at the table and I’ll take you through what we found.”