2184

by Martin Parish

  “I thought about the chemical bomb, and about my husband. And that's believable, you see, because they'd expect me to be worried about him. So when the mind scan told them I was thinking about my husband, no matter what question they asked, they'd believe that. They'd assume I just didn't have any informate aney trust the mindscan enough that if it doesn't get what they want, they don't bother with anything else.”

  I was sceptical. I'd never heard of a reliable means to baffle the mindscan before. “How do you know you fooled them?”

  “I don't know. There's no way to know for sure. But I think it worked, because they haven't shot me. They wouldn't've put me in a work camp if they'd guessed anything about Marengo now, would they? The thing you have to remember is that they're starting to get arrogant. They're starting to believe their own lies. They really see us as the inferior species. Even very intelligent people can be blinded that way. All sorts of dictators have done that in history.”

  “We don't know what the Mirks think,” I interrupted.

  “Of course not. But that's my best guess. And if I'm right, we've still got our perfect weapon hidden in a locked basement in North London.”

  “You've got a virus stored? how do you have it stored?” I asked.

  “On a computer. Got the blueprint for the virus stored on our computer, and we've got a GeneWrite.”

  A GeneWrite was the workhorse of pre-Mod genetic engineering. In concept it was similar to an old paper printer. You would write the genetic code for your new lifeform on the computer, get all your As and Gs in the right place, probably use a program like DNAWare or LifeInvent. Once you were ready, with a word to the computer or a keystroke you could print the genome out as DNA, and the GeneWrite would automatically amplify the genome through PCR(polymerase chain reaction) and plug it into a cell(or a capsid if it were a virus). A GeneWrite could perform in a single step the same work that took the first biotech pioneers tens of thousands of hours. “All we've got to do,” Shelley added, “is print out our blueprint and we've got an airborne, waterborne virus that'll kill them and never touch us.”

  “How long'll that be good for?” I asked. “They know everything about antivirals.”

  “Yes. That's true. Once they've got samples of it they'll cook up a new antiviral. So it won't kill all of them, of course not. But they won't expect it, and they travel a lot, so the virus'll spread quickly. That's our advantage is that they're overconfident. Just look at how careless they are now. They think they've got us whipped. And it's that same overconfidence that helped them win the first time that'll be their undoing.”

  I sat dead still, my head whirling with the unexpected flood of information. It was as if a whole new world had suddenly opened to my imagination. Was this merely another lie like the one Shelley devised on the train? Or had the Mods already divined the secret of her plan? It seemed difficult to believe they could blunder or fail, that they might be fallible like Mongrels. “ace, prhat happens after some of them die off?” I said. “They'll strike back with a vengeance. They'll want to wipe us out.”

  “We can't predict for certain what'll happen. The problem is there's no really good way to communicate, without phones or the internet or any of what we used to have. It's so frustrating, it's like being in the dark. But here's the thing. The virus'll spread quickly, it's lethal and fast-acting. It'll kill most of them before they've got an antiviral and it'll cause chaos. People are disunited right now, because they think the Mirks are inevitable and so why fight them, I'm just going to get on with what I've got to do. Like what you said on the train. That's how most people are. But if people see the Mirks dying off like flies, that'll unite us. And once we've got control of their communication networks, their aircars, what have you, who knows what can happen?”

  “They're smarter than we are,” I said. “They'll – I don't know what they'll do.”

  “Well of course they're smarter. Bloody hell. They've got genetics on their side, and they take drugs to boost their brain power as well. But their being smarter isn't like the difference between a human and a chimpanzee, where the human can come up with a battle plan and the chimpanzee can't spell simple words. It's more like the difference between an adult and a child. It's big, but we can bridge it. We made them, they're just enhanced great-grandkids of wealthy humans. People forget that.”

  “That's true.”

  “The other thing that you have to remember is that we don't have to destroy all of them. If we can, that's even better. But even those that survive, they'll be so few in number we can overwhelm them. And the thing is that they don't expect this kind of attack, they think it's beyond our capacity. The advantage we have is surprise. They have absolute no idea this is coming, they'll have no chance to prepare. Until it hits them and they start dying, they won't know.”

  “It's incredible.” The train of events she described seemed distant and surreal like history written in advance. Yet I believed her.

  “So now there's two people that know – you and I. But keep it to yourself. There's very few people you can trust with something like that. The more people that know, the likelier it is someone'll find out. Especially here in the camp. If you tell people here, one of them'll go to the guards and say, I've got a secret I can tell you if you'll give me some food.”

  “Yeah, some of them.”

  “There's some other stuff you'll need to know, too, about how to print out the virus, but I can tell you how to do all that too. So long as whichever of us gets back does this.”

  “All right,” I said uneasily. I wasn't completely sure what I would even do with a lethal virus: print it out and then do what? Where was it hidden? I lacked the terrorist mindset, the learned ability to recognize a target, exploit the chinks in a defence. “Where is this in North London anyway?”

  “There's several things you need to know. First is the password to the computer. We didn't use any fancy DNA-key tech, we just ud a password. It's Marengo, same as what we used to call our project. Marengo.”

  “Marengo,” I said. “Some kind of code word?”

  “It was the name of a great battle in history. It started in defeat, ended in victory. That's why.”

  “I see.”

  “Then you need to know where it is. I'll give you the address but you've got to memorize it. There's a code you'll have to push to get in.” She murmured it in my ear, explained how to get there. It was in Holloway.

  “All right. I know roughly where that is. I live in Islington.”

  “That's not too far for you then. Once you're back in London, of course.”

  “When do they release us?”

  “That's just it. I don't know when they do. If they release us they probably won't let me out,” she said grimly. “I'm not like the rest of you here, you're all here for infractions. You're likelier to get out than I am. No, I think I'm stuck unless I can escape.”

  “But wait,” I said. “So what do I do if it is me that gets back? I just go to this place in north London and – I don't even know how to use a GeneWrite.”

  “We took notes on the computer about some of what we were doing. Just in case we had to pass it along like that. But you won't actually have to do anything yourself. Because, like I said, one of us escaped. There's my husband. The best thing you can do is find my husband and give him the address I just gave you. He'll know what to do from there. He went down the tube and the sewers in Central London.”

  “How can I find him down the Underground?” I said. “That'll take me – I don't know. I don't even know where I'd start.”

  “There's a friend of ours that lives in Holloway. He's one of the few people that wasn't one of us that we could trust. If my husband wasn't caught this fellow'll know where he is.”

  “So let me guess, that's one more address I've got to memorize,” I said.

  “Yes, that's right. I know it's a lot. But listen, you've got to. It's terribly important. If there's two of us that know, that doubles our chances. It's twenty years work. It
's our last really good chance. If we lose this I don't know who else is going to fight the Mirks, and with what – guns? You remember what they thought of our guns.”

  “True.”

  “So I'll give you that address too. And if worst comes to worst,” she said soberly, “there's some instructions on the computer, some documents with all of our work. You'll have to figure it out from that. That's the best I can do. But here. Let me give you the address.” I listened again and tried to keep them separate in my head.

  “All right,” I said. “I cn remember that. There's the two addresses, the code, and Marengo. Four things, I think I can do that.” I didn't really believe I'd have to remember it, because I didn't see any reason why Shelley would die before I did. But I remembered it.

  She sighed and stood to her feet.“So, even if I don't get back Marengo will. I mean, I hope I will, but if not, Marengo's got twice as good a chance if there's two of us that know.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And just remember one other thing. The most important thing of all. Don't tell anyone. There's more traitors on our side than theirs. So if you do get out instead of me-”

  “Of course,” I said. “I'm not stupid. I know that, I can see that.”

  “All right. Just wanted to make sure.” She paused a moment. “As long as we are stuck here, will you come and help me dig up those batteries? I'll give you half if you want. Sorry to bitch at you just now, but I get so angry when I see people clawing at each other's throats and letting the Mirks get away with everything. It makes me wonder what I wasted twenty years for.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. I felt an unexpected benevolence towards her now that we were accomplices.

  “I only need half anyway. There's enough they should last me all tomorrow and the day after,” she said. “I think what I'll do is trade 'em in a few at a time then I've got enough for a couple days.”

  “I'd trade them all in soon as you can.”

  “I'm keeping mine,” she said decisively.

  She clearly didn't know what a deadly possession a pack of triple-A batteries can be.

  Later that day, as I crossed the landfill to replenish my water supply, I heard the crunch of trash and a shrill altercation behind me where I'd left Shelley. Intrigued but wary, I detoured back in the direction of the sound, just in time to witness a strange scene: Shelley stumbling away from me, followed by Jason and one other man in close pursuit. She tripped and in an instant they had her. I knew why. It was the batteries. They'd seen her with the batteries.

  "Let me go," she shouted, struggling blindly.

  "Stop that!" I called out even as Jason smashed her in the face. She staggered backwards. The other man gave her a shove, and she stumbled forwards and fell face-first into the garbage. They rummaged hastily through her pockets then left her; and all this took no more time than it takes to write. I wanted to run but I had to place my feet carefully.

  "Shelley?" I called out to her as I approached. She said nothing; the handle of a rusted skewer protruded from her back. I dropped to my knees by her side and turned her face up. Her breath came in sharp gasps like sobs.

  “Shelley.” I heardes met mine. We exchanged a mutually intelligible look; we needed no words. She knew and I knew. There was no medical treatment here, no hope of help. Marengo was mine now, an unwanted inheritance bequeathed to a reluctant heir. Mine whether I liked it or not.

  “Remember,” she said breathlessly; “I told you.”

  “Shelley,” I said again. She'd lost consciousness. Perhaps she was already gone; killed for the sake of a few dozen batteries that once, long ago, one of our ancestors had thrown out as rubbish. I stood up again. It crossed my mind to try to bury her, but I knew it wouldn't make any difference. Either way she'd gradually moulder away and disintegrate with the other contents of the landfill. She'd wanted to fight for her own species, I reflected, and yet it was her own species that killed her. It was strange how insignificant she looked now that she was dead.

  Chapter 4

  Near Angel the waters of a slow canal flow beneath a bridge, only a few blocks away from City Road. Although the area to the south is deserted, the district on the north bank is inhabited, and here the water meanders through the green shade of a small park. In spite of its location, the canal is so well hidden that the main streets might as well be miles away, and when I found it I felt I had discovered something hidden, something beautiful. We often liked to walk there, especially in late fall. It was in fall I walked with her then, in late afternoon, and wished that time would stop and our world last forever.

  “Wait. Look.” I pointed to a jahwallah, begging with skinny little hands outstretched, his wrinkled skin sagging around his eyes. Jahwallahs were small biotech animals shaped like Dedo gargoyles – faces creased into an inscrutable smile, shy, secretive, meditative. They were the result of an experiment some years before; some people kept them as pets. A few strays also survived, and in London you'd occasionally catch a glimpse of one down an alleyway, a furtive figure crouching by a brick wall and watching ants crawling in the dust.

  “Half a sec, I've got something, I'll throw him something,” Becky said. We tossed the creature a scrap of bread. He devoured it and begged us for more.

  “No, we're all out now,” I scolded him. “Nothing else now.”

  "We should get back."

  “Go back already? But we just left ten minutes ago.”

  “Ten minutes?” she said. “More like half an hour. Besides, it's cold.”

  "Come on, it's not cold!" I said and laughed. "Here, you can wear my jacket." It hung down halfway to her knees and her arms were lost in the sleeves and we both laughed.

  "Mark, Mark, you're so funny."

  "Now that's a joke. Who's calling who funny?" I teased. All at once I grew seious as I looked into her eyes. "My God, you're so beautiful. Becky. I love you, Becky." I kissed her. I kissed her. And as my lips touched hers-

  I awoke. It took me a moment to remember where I was, and as I recalled the events of the past four months my heart sank. The moon cast a silver glow on the unearthly landscape around me. I shivered. The dream was so vivid and so real it was disorienting to descend to reality again. My life in London, however difficult and threadbare it might have been, in hindsight seemed like paradise.

  Becky, Becky Svoboda. Even the sound of her name was pleasant, like the strain of a favourite melody. In that instant I wanted more than anything else to see her again. I wished I could fly like one of the crows, soar across the barbed-wire crowned fence and the robotic sentinels with their lifeless eyes. How long had I been trapped here? By that time it might have been nearly a month. I'd lost track of the number of days. What if they never released us? I stifled that thought quickly and tried to forget it, because if that was true there was no hope. Living without hope is like breathing without air.

  And now I had a more important task. I thought of Shelley dying in the mud. In an empty flat in North London waited a computer with information that could win equality back for humankind, like a bomb waiting for a signal to explode. It was a daunting responsibility. I didn't want it, it was too much for me, but I'd inherited it just the same. I knew I had to escape; but the fence posts stood bleak and ugly against the rising moon, and posed a question without an answer - how?

  The following day, as I crossed the landfill to get water, I encountered the Indian I'd seen dozing on the train. He lay asleep against a mound of trash, although as I approached the crunch of my footsteps woke him. I recoiled in surprise at the sight of his face. I've said that aboard the train he seemed emaciated, but now he resembled a human skeleton, his bony limbs lost inside his tattered shirt and trousers. It was painful just to look at him.

  "You all right?" I asked. He glanced at me, his eyes glazed, as if uncomprehending.

  "Yes, I'm all right,” he replied mechanically.

  "Nothing to eat?" I asked.

  "I don't know. No. Yesterday, no.” Was he confused? deli
rious?

  "Why? you couldn't find anything?"

  He laughed. I found myself wondering that he could summon up enough energy to laugh. "Every time I find something - I found some cell phones - the others come and take them."

  "Aren't you-" When I'd seen him, I'd meant to ask whether he was going to keep on scavenging, but it finally dawned on me he'd given up. If he found anything it would be taken from him, so why bother? He was waiting to die.

  "Listen, I tell you what," I said, "I'll save you some food. We can team up. We'll split everything we find. That way your junk won't get stolen." In a flash I'd realized the Indian might be immensely useful. While he might not be much help in a fight, at least he could watch my back and I could depend on him not to steal from me.

  He stared at me vacantly for a moment. "All right, why not."

  "Ok, I'll be back. Just stay where you are so I know where to find you."

  I returned later on that day with my ration. I'd found a cache of broken office equipment in the morning, so I had more food than usual. In spite of my promise, it was difficult to resist the temptation simply to eat it all and forget about the Indian. In the end, what I saved for him was probably less than half – not that he knew the difference. His eyes asked a question as I approached.

  "You came back," he said.

  "I said I would."

  "I thought you were- I didn't think you were serious." I handed him four of the square bread-like cakes they make from farmed algae and sea asparagus. He wolfed them down without hardly bothering to chew. His once-neatly trimmed moustache was ragged and unkempt now like his beard and hair. As soon as he finished he shook my hand.

  "Thank you." He was so apologetic I was embarrassed.

  "No trouble," I said. "What's your name again?"

  "Kamal Das. And yours?"

  "Mark. Mark Henshaw."

  "I just mean thank you because - I didn't think I was going to make it," he said, smiling ruefully; "I was just lying here watching the crows, you know, wondering when they were going to start on me."