And then Gaela reached them and Aryel stepped into her embrace, returning it and relinquishing Gabriel. He looked back at her then, from the safety of his mother’s arms, and it seemed as though he might be starting to come back to himself.
Eli Walker slid to a stop, and found himself unable to speak. Next to him Masoud appeared to have suffered the same affliction. She turned to them. Her wings were still half open, sunlight glinting off soft bronze feathers limned in gold. Her eyes were the colour of sky.
‘Eli.’ The voice still musical, still carrying, no longer incongruous. ‘Take care of them. Get them to Bal. Masoud, you need to get up there.’
She was backing away as she spoke, wings arcing up to catch the air. ‘I have to go. I told Donal what to do but I don’t know if he could hear me.’
‘He heard you,’ Eli managed, and Gabriel added a tiny nod of confirmation. But she was already gone, flying fast up the gleaming grey skin of the tower.
*
The shouts were unending now, people jumping up and down and pointing and screaming in exhilaration at the sight of her, as though this departure had broken some sort of spell. She changed direction, cutting a sharp angle close to the building, and they saw that the small silver pod of a lift was descending.
Donal and James Mudd and the boy with the vidcam were slumped inside the cubicle. Mudd had already ripped the tape away from the young gem’s mouth and was stripping it off his hands. The operator wearily adjusted his kit, knocked askew when Donal had spun away from his distracted captors and body-checked him towards the lifts. He centred the vidcam on them and brought it back into focus. When the bronze shadow flashed below them he swung it round, and caught her circling to look again.
Donal crawled over to the rail and dragged himself upright. He pressed a bloody hand to the glass. She soared past, fingers outstretched to brush against it. Then she blew him a kiss, curved away from the lift, and flew straight up.
*
Zavcka Klist watched the tiny figure of the winged woman pause beside the pod, and then resume her swift ascent. She drew a deep, deep breath, maybe the deepest of her long life, and felt it shudder on the way out. She stepped back smoothly and quietly, acutely aware of the floor beneath her feet, the hard feel of the tablet in her hand, the cold that wrapped around her spine and braced it.
The ones who had followed her stayed, buzzing with excitement, eyes flickering from tablets to the miracle of Newhope Tower, while she slipped away.
*
Some moments begin a cycle and some moments end them, and some remain forever mysterious.
No one ever knew what Aryel Morningstar said to Mac and his men, back up there on the terrace of Newhope Tower. They saw what she did, all those faces pressed up against the glass, all those tablet feeds hacked and streamed live. They saw how she drove them back, huge wings like judgement beating down out of a sparkling sky, until they crowded against the doors to the lifts. They saw her face clouded in wrath, her lips shaping strange words as she shouted, and they saw the men cower and weep in fear. They saw how she kicked away their knives and clubs but never touched them, and how she stood guard, wings spread wide, between the men and the edge until Masoud and his officers arrived to take them away.
For all the recordings of that moment, all the apps and analysis, they never could decipher what the words were.
Aryel Morningstar would only smile sadly and say that it was a moment, and it was necessary, and it was gone. Few of the godgang ever spoke again, and never about the terrace of Newhope Tower. For the rest of his days Mac would blanch and shudder and turn away when asked. If they pressed him too hard his bladder would go, and after a while they stopped.
DAY SEVEN
AFTERMATH
30
Seizing the Moment
Great Britain’s Acting Commissioner for
Gem Affairs Dr Robert Trench Speaks Out
Autofeed @Observer.eu/commentary/GMH_crisis_Trench_post/2512131AS
To say that what happened yesterday was amazing would be the understatement of this and probably several other centuries. The pundits are already picking our shared experience apart, asking whether those few minutes of horror and revelation and sheer, gut-swooping wonder was the most globally witnessed moment ever. The more thoughtful – or perhaps just the more cynical – among them are questioning what, if anything, we should take away from this week’s events.
They’ve asked my opinion, and I am expected, I suppose, to be politely neutral. To not read too much into things, not get carried away. To publicly play down the significance of what we learned, while privately the government scrambles to work out what to do about it. But if there was ever a time to be brave, to do the unexpected, this is it.
So let me be blunt. What happened yesterday was a seminal moment in the history of the human race.
Oh, we’ve seen courage and calm in the face of danger before. Also mindless hatred and brutality, and self-sacrifice, and sorrow. This is not the first time we’ve learned deeply kept secrets, and had to face hard truths. But it may be the first time we’ve had the reality of the worst and the best that human beings can be slapped in our faces quite so hard. It may be the first time the choices that we have to make, as a society and as a species, are quite so stark.
I spoke with Aryel Morningstar late last night. You may find this difficult to believe – I did, and I was there – but in the midst of her grief for five more murdered friends, her worry for those wounded in both mind and body, having to deal with the chaos left behind in the Squats and the personal consequences of revealing her unique gemsign, and ability: she was also profoundly concerned about the effect these events would have on the gems of Europe, and perhaps the world.
Anyone who has been following the politics of the post-Declaration era will understand her anxiety. Quite apart from the crass commercial priorities of the gemtechs, and the widespread economic pain of their near-collapse, most of us have remained profoundly uncomfortable with difference. We’re too ready to believe that people who don’t look just like us can’t possibly be just like us. We think if they can do things we can’t, they’ll inevitably use that power against us. And now we’ve got a six-limbed woman who can fly, for god’s sake. If anything was ever going to fuel the fire of our paranoia that’s it, right?
Wrong. At least that’s what I told her. Look at the streams, I said. Look at what’s actually happened since you stepped inside that lift. Look at the condemnation of the godgang and the gemtechs and Nicholas Henderson and Gabriel’s birth parents. Look at the sympathy and support and admiration and sheer love pouring in, from all over the world. Look at the demand for justice.
Look at how happy we are to know that a human can fly.
She waved that one away with typically Aryel-ian grace, and asked me to pass on the gems’ deep gratitude for the outpouring of goodwill. ‘The public have been amazing,’ she said. ‘Their reaction gives us so much comfort – but it’s up to the politicians to make sure that the lives that were saved today are worth living. And that the deaths were not in vain.’
She’s right, of course. Politicians are a cautious lot. They prefer incremental shifts to bold action. They like studies and inquiries and retrospective reviews. Money talks, and they listen. It took close to three decades of constant campaigning to get even the partial gem suffrage of the Declaration of the Principles of Human Fraternity, and that scraped through by a pretty narrow margin. Politicians respond quickly to the electorate, and not much else.
So let’s consider the question, electorate. We have an opportunity to do the right thing and to do it now. What has emerged as the Temple Solution is simple, practical, efficient, and above all it is just. The realisation that the norm child Gabriel is no less remarkable than his adoptive gem mother should be all the proof we need. The rejection and abuse that child suffered should never again be visited on any child, gem or norm. The sooner we get rid of the distinction, the sooner we can make certain of it.
We should not wait. We should claim her and the other gems, just as we claim Gabriel, just as we claim every other extraordinary person who has graced us. We should do it proudly and we should do it now. We need to stop floundering in suspicion or, even worse, being paralysed by guilt. We need to think about history – both the past about which we can do nothing, and the legacy of the present which is unfolding right now. We need to ensure that we are not among the generations forever condemned by our children. We need to stop being scared.
You want to see different? Take a look at Aryel Morningstar.
Do you really want to see her put in a cage?
‘He’s really le’ them have it, eh?’ Donal’s voice was rough with pain and drugs, and, Eli thought, barely concealed emotion. He swallowed past the lump in his own throat and looked up from the tablet feed he’d been reading aloud to where the young gem lay propped up on pillows in the hospital bed. His head was swathed in bandages to twice its normal size, holding in place the biogels to maintain stasis in the wounds until the scaffolding on which new ears would grow was ready to be grafted in place.
‘He says he doesn’t care if he gets the sack. He’s had to be circumspect a lot in his job, and he’s sick of it.’ Eli shifted his position a little, glancing over to the other young man who sat in a wheelchair next to the adjacent bed, listening keenly. Callan’s head was tightly covered by a skullcap-like dressing and one leg and both arms were encased in bonesplints, but his face was clear of bandages. Beneath the swollen, bruised skin, criss-crossed by the faint purple lines of plastic surgery, Eli could see vestiges of the beauty Sally had spoken of.
‘I also think he feels guilty. It was his responsibility to make sure you were all taken care of, that the right resources were in place, and, well …’ Eli gestured up and down the length of the ward, where the gems who were not in intensive care lay in a neat row of partitioned cubicles, mostly still in drugged sleep at this hour of the morning. The sound-damping field around Donal’s bed had been expanded to take in his neighbours on either side, and the partition walls between them had been pushed back. ‘He’s trying to make up for it.’
‘He’s succeeding,’ said Gaela quietly from the other side, and Eli swivelled to look at her. ‘Not that I blame him for anything that’s happened. Dr Trench always did his best by us. But this,’ she waved a hand at the tablet, ‘it’s gone viral like nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s the top post in every country, in just about every language …’ She glanced over at Callan, who nodded. ‘He’s hit a nerve, bless him. People seem convinced.’
She looked down, stroking Gabriel’s hair. She was perched at the foot of Bal’s bed with the boy stretched out between them, apparently half asleep. Bal curled a bandaged hand around his son’s feet.
‘Th’ question is,’ said Donal, ‘how long they stay convinced. I mean we’re all the rage this mornin’, bu’ I was gettin’ spat on in Edinburgh not much more’n a year ago …’
Gabriel shifted in Gaela’s lap, and she threw a warning look at Donal. Bal cleared his throat.
‘Aryel,’ he said, and left it at that for so long that Donal said, ‘Wha’ abou’ her? Apart from her bein’ the second bloomin’ comin’ o’ course.’
‘Just that. That’s the nerve he hit. They want her. They want to claim her, like he said, they want what she is to be part of what they are. She means something else to them, something more …’ He shook his head. ‘And we’re the price. That’s what she engineered, that’s the bargain. They don’t get her, they don’t get to be part of her world, unless they take all of us.’
‘It’s not what she wanted,’ said Eli. The realisation had been ebbing and flowing from him in waves all night, and now it settled into a cold, stunned clarity as he listened to Bal speak. ‘She wanted us to get there on our own. There was something in her face when she knew they were taking you to the tower, when she knew what she’d have to do. She didn’t want to be a bribe, she didn’t want …’
She didn’t want to have to manipulate us quite this much. The thought came and went like a flicker of lightning, but not before he saw Gabriel’s brown eyes blink open at him, and slowly close again.
‘No, she didn’t,’ said Bal quietly. ‘But when the moment came she had to make it count. We – most of us – have known Aryel’s gemsign for some time. She knew it would mean something different to norms, that she would have an … impact. She said it would be better in the end if she never had to use it.’ He sighed. ‘But.’
‘We are where we are,’ said Gaela.
‘Exactly.’
The silence stretched out for a long time, until Gabriel stirred and pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced nervously towards the door at the end of the ward. Gaela followed the motion, squinted at it, and cuddled him close.
‘It’s just the nurse, Gabe. We saw her before, remember? She’s okay.’
The boy nodded hesitantly, and sure enough the door swung open to admit a white-smocked woman bustling efficiently towards them. She frowned as she saw the figures perched on the end of the bed, but her face cleared immediately as she registered the woman and child.
‘You alright there, dears?’ she said kindly as she entered the damper field. ‘You’ll let us know if you need anything, won’t you. I just came to let Mr Donal know, the grafts should be ready by around lunchtime. It’s a quick procedure, only we didn’t think to ask …’
She had stopped beside Donal’s bed and looked confused and a bit embarrassed. The gems stared back at her, nonplussed.
‘Is everything alright?’ asked Eli.
‘Yes of course, right as rain, we just …’ she faced Donal and took a deep breath. ‘We’ve set them up to grow exactly the same shape and size as before, it’s what we would normally do, I just thought we should make sure that’s what you wanted.’ She gave him a pleading look.
Eli felt his eyebrows shoot up, and caught the glance that flew between Gaela and Bal. Between the bandages, Donal’s face was turning red. He spluttered.
‘Wha’ the— O’ course tha’s wha’ I want! Why wouldn’ I?’
The nurse’s relief did battle with her increasing embarrassment.
‘That’s what we thought. Just checking. Right, well. That’s all sorted then.’ She was backing hastily away towards the edge of the field. ‘I’ll let them know it’s fine, shall I? And I’ll be back to take you down in a couple of hours. In the meantime if you need anything, anything at all, just lean on the call buttons, someone will be in directly.’ She turned and fled.
Bal let out a long breath. ‘Wow.’
‘Well,’ said Eli.
Donal was still livid. ‘Can you b’lieve she asked me tha’? Wha’ kin’ of a blooady question is that?’
‘An important one,’ said Eli. He glanced over at Callan. ‘When they did your grafts did they ask about your hair? Whether you wanted to change it?’
The man in the wheelchair shook his head. Eli looked back at Donal. ‘She gave you a choice,’ he said. It took a minute to sink in. Donal’s face slowly cleared.
‘Oh.’
‘A life without gemsign. It’s not a small thing, my friend.’
‘I guess I shouldna bin so testy abou’ it.’ Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. ‘I’ll make it up to her later.’
He looked around for a change of subject, and settled on Gabriel. The little boy was drawn and pale, far less animated than usual, but he appeared to have emerged from the nearly catatonic state of the day before. He stayed attached to Gaela as though glued. ‘How’re you doin’ then, mate? Feelin’ a little better?’
The child nodded. ‘A little better.’ His voice was slow, barely above a whisper, and he glanced towards the door through which the nurse had retreated. ‘Everyone’s trying to think nice thought
s around me.’
‘Does it help?’
He nodded again. ‘It’s still bad though.’ His eyes squeezed tight shut, as if he were fighting back tears, or trying to block out an image. ‘Aunty Wenda,’ he said, and the faint voice trembled.
‘What happened, Gabe?’ asked Bal. ‘Could you tell?’ Gabriel’s little face crumpled for a moment and Eli and Donal stared at Bal as though he had gone mad. Gaela’s lips tightened, but it seemed she understood something they had not.
‘No,’ the child replied. ‘It was like you said, Papa. She just went … out. She wasn’t there any more.’ He looked over at Callan, and seemed to gain a little strength. ‘She thought about you. She was thinking about you the whole time.’
A spasm of pain passed over the damaged face and he slumped, staring into his lap, head bowed in acknowledgement.
‘Callan?’ said Gaela. ‘Was she …?’
‘We didn’t know,’ he replied quietly. His voice was warm and husky, and Eli thought he heard tears in it. ‘It’s possible. We talked about trying to find out. Seeing if we could get the records.’ He looked away, up and out as though he could see through the screened windows set high in the wall.
‘You could still do that. Aryel would help.’
Callan nodded listlessly. This time the silence stretched out like an ache, low and unbearable. Eli longed suddenly for Aryel, wanting to be soothed by her presence, craving the beauty that clothed her every look and step and fluttering feather. It was like craving a drug. He looked around, elaborately and ridiculously casual, as though she might at any moment push through the swinging doors or appear outside the windows. He was sure he fooled no one. ‘Where is she anyway?’
‘It’s as you say, Eli,’ said Bal. ‘The world’s changing. It’s going to roll right over us before we know it. She has some things to take care of first.’
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