31
As Mathew found himself feeling healthier, so time tended to drag. The hours spent in a catatonic state were replaced by troubled insomnia and depressing boredom. Between being left alone by Rei at the end of the day and her return the next afternoon he often spoke to no one. He had a series of exercises on his legs to perform, and he tried to make this into a type of competition. Each day he’d try to do ten more cycles, or circumnavigate his room five more times. But it always ended with him lying on the bed and trying to find some music or listen to the narration on the c-pac he’d been lent. He was getting more used to operating it now, although the way it refused to recognise his voice infuriated him, and he disliked the tingling sensation that he got when he operated the ethervision. Would it really be so hard to connect a QWERTY keyboard or have a couple of buttons on the machine that you could just press, he thought. Rei had shown the rudiments of how to use the machine and set up some history lessons for him, but he couldn’t cope with the over-friendly voice telling him about wars that for him still seemed years in the future, happening in places that he’d never heard of. The history made no sense, and so he stopped listening and concentrated on connecting more music, until he eventually had found a way to link the small machine to a system that allowed him to play a tiny selection of the more popular jazz standards. Occasionally it beeped and announced an update, which he soon realised must be when another device linked to it had information input to it. These were usually nonsensical and he often wondered what James had the machine connected to. Messages about God, religious relics and missions rambled inanely on and on, and he tended to ignore the strange communications.
The exercises gave him a chance to meet people, although he’d hardy call them communicative. It seemed that only Rei and the rather intrusive porter James ever wanted to speak. His only opportunity to talk was to the counsellor that he saw every other day. She allowed him to talk about whatever he chose, although rarely spoke back to him, except to prompt him to delve deeper into his own thoughts.
“How have you been since last time?”
“The same really, nothing changes here for me.” He tapped his knee absently as the silence between them dragged.
“Have you been having any dreams?”
“I can’t remember. It’s strange, that I don’t seem to dream at all now. Not that I ever remember, at any rate. I sort of daydream a lot, but nothing when I sleep. Is that odd?”
“What would you like to dream about?”
Mathew thought as he sat in the quiet room. The world he wished he would dream of was gone forever. What his daydreams provided was not what he wanted.
“I think about Paula and Jessie most of the time. But, when they are out of my thoughts it’s not my life when I was with them that I find myself focusing on. It’s me when I was a kid. I think about holidays and places we went, especially before mum died. And think about dad a hell of a lot. Which is weird, because I didn’t really think about him at all that I remember for most of the last 10 years; I mean the last 10 years for me…’
“Yes, I know what you mean. Go on. What do you think about when you remember your father?”
“Trips mainly, and going away places in the summer. And the old house, ’specially my room. I spent quite a bit of time in there. The house always seemed much quieter after mum died. Dad used to be at work a lot. And then he’d come home and be upset. He used to drink quite heavily; I remember that. He beat mum quite badly a couple of times. Then when she died he got worse. I don’t know if it was just ’cos mum had died, but sometimes he’d be furious, he’d really lay into me, then just cry and cry afterwards. He had a belt that he’d use; big brown thing that he kept in a drawer. He never wore it, it was specifically for me, so I always knew what was coming when he got it out. There was a gun in the house, an old World War II Luger, he said he got it from his dad. I always liked the idea that we had a piece of history in the house; something tangible that connected me to the past. Like a relic from another time. I don’t know what he had it for, and I used to wonder if it actually worked. He always told me it did and I was never allowed to touch it. Then one day, I can’t remember why, I found out that it did work; I was about 13, me and dad went into the woods and shot at some rats with it. Sometimes I’d just think about where that gun was kept and whether I could use it if I had to. I remember getting beaten so bad once that I just lay on the bed in my room, and tried to think when I could get it and use it on him. That’s a terrible thing for a kid to think about one of their parents isn’t it? But, well, that’s how he made me feel. He could be so vindictive and evil at times. So I think about him and the house, and being a kid, being at school. I think about that sort of stuff a lot.”
And as he lay in the room that evening those thoughts flooded through his mind again and again. The c-pac beeped to announce a message, then ranted stating “Keep an eye on what’s real but remember that I may be James. Maybe Deon isn’t real anymore.” It didn’t make any sense, as usual. Mathew counted the hours until Rei was due to return the next day and he could have a real conversation with a human who seemed genuinely interested in his welfare. He wondered if she would have any news about Jessie.
He never suspected the chaos that was about to unfold around him.
32
Rei left the building and walked out into the dark wet night. The street lights were out again and the scaffolding made eerie shapes against the illuminated shop fronts opposite. It was not safe to leave via the front entrance, but the side exit led onto a dark alley, and it did not seem less hazardous at this time of night. Rei had seen groups of youths clothed in dark hooded jackets loiter here, their gait strange from the narcotics that they used, and their faces hidden by scarves. The corner of the passage smelt of the piss and vomit that never seems to wash away in the constant rain, and trash had built up by the old wooden fence to the far end of it. The route was closed at one end due to the repairs, although it left open the route that Rei needed, so she would not have to double back as she had last year when the other end had been closed off.
She started down the 200 metres to the main road, hurrying because of the rain and smell. Although the entrance to the apartment she was using was connected to the clinic, it necessitated her walking virtually the entire circumference of the block, which took about 15 minutes. Her head was full of ideas about Mathew’s exercises and ways to improve his routine. It must be dull for him to be locked in there all day. Perhaps she could take him out of the building somehow in a couple of weeks. He was certainly strong enough to walk on his own for a while. Suddenly through these thoughts a strange sense of foreboding grew. At first she felt stupid for thinking that someone may be following her, but the feeling became stronger and she could now hear footsteps behind her. She quickened her pace, and heard the steps do the same. Then they began running. She turned but couldn’t see anything. Instinctively she started running, all the time listening to the sound of her pursuer gaining. She was fit and quick, but the man was taller and stronger and grabbed her hair, yanking her to a standstill. She screamed but there was no-one to hear her. Then she felt herself spun around and a gloved hand cover her mouth. She was pulled towards the figure and could smell alcohol and tobacco on his breath. There was a bright point of light in front of her face that she realised was the light beam attached to a knife and a voice came out of the darkness.
“Empty your pockets.” She struggled as hard as she could. “Empty your fuckin’ pockets or I’ll cut you.” She could feel his weight on her, and his hand sliding down, unbuckling her belt.
She concentrated all her strength and energy as she’d always been taught, fought to control her breathing, timed her move and then slipped one hand up knocking the knife from her face and at the same time pulled her knee up as hard as she could into her assailant’s crotch. He winced and let his grip loosen for a second, but it was long enough for her to move. She swung a cupped hand against the man’s ear, and quickly hit him in the centre o
f the chest with her other hand, twisting her palm as it connected. She spun away and tried to run, but her head caught the steel bar of the scaffolding and she stumbled, falling amongst a pile of wood and tools. The man’s hand found her ankle and held her tightly. She fumbled in the darkness for a weapon and her fingers closed around a piece of metal. As she felt the man’s hand grab her waist and unbuckle her trousers she seized the machine in her hand and brought it down on the man’s head. He fell back slightly, then came again, punching her in the face. She felt her cheek swell immediately and her vision swam for a while. The hand now clutched her waist again and pulled her towards him. Unsure what she still held in her right hand she brought the device up and found a handle and finger cover. She recalled seeing a workman this morning using tools to fire nails into the boards on this section. That had to be what she held. She had no idea how to use it, but just brought it up and pulled the small trigger.
There was a whooshing noise and the man stopped and staggered back. Rei felt flecks of something warm and wet on her face. The hand on her belt released and she turned and ran. She kept running until she reached her apartment, where she bolted the door and collapsed sobbing into her chair. Only then did she let of go of the nail gun that she’d been carrying.
33
Philip sat in the bar waiting for Rei to arrive. Her message had been unexpected and hurried, but he guessed it was something serious. He just finished a call from Ravi, who was concerned that every other publication was taking a moralistic view on the Lyal story, and Philip’s was so far not much more than a brief scientific overview of the process and a short piece on the ways that creating a state of suspended animation could be used. This story seemed likely to finish Philip’s career at the moment, rather than being the scoop of the decade.
“Everyone’s going on the moral Crusade bandwagon with this, Phil. And we’re missing it. We’re wittering on about research and space travel.”
“I think our readers are able to make their own minds up, don’t you Ravi. We are not The Sun, we don’t have to do people’s thinking for them. And anyway, you’ve had a piece from me that you can use editorially.”
“Your copy was based on the waste of money of the whole process and how funds could be directed to towards public health. It’s a private clinic, for God’s sake; they can do what they like with their own money. And as for what our readers are thinking, I don’t give a fuck about what the people believe; I want to expand readership. They tell us what they think, then we confirm why they think it. Do you understand journalism at all? We don’t report what has happened, we give an opinion about it. Have you been paying attention over the last few days? Did you watch the debate? Public opinion is raging against this place and their Frankenstein experiments.”
Jesus, thought Philip, this guy really speaks in headlines. “Ok, I’ll speed my research up. But I’m sure I’ve got an angle that none of the others have on this.”
“An angle’s great, but if the story’s dead and buried by the time we get it, then it’s no fucking good is it. And it looks like that could well happen. Literally. This Lyal character may be relapsing. The latest from the hospital is that his condition is no longer stable and they’re not sure why. I’ll send you the report they’ve issued. So get something in. Like today! Tiente.”
The line went dead and then reopened immediately.
“Yeah, I’m on it, alright,” Philip barked.
“Hello,” came a female voice from the machine. He looked up and saw Rei on the screen.
“Sorry, thought you were someone else. What’s up?” It had to be something about Lyal’s condition, he thought.
“I need to see you. I don’t want to talk like this. I want to meet you immediately. I think it’s important. Meet me at the bar where we met before, in…..an hour?”
“Yeah, fine. How’s Lyal?”
“As far as I know Mathew’s fine. Meet me in 60 minutes,” and she disconnected.
And now he was left waiting for her, watching the con men on the street opposite. There was a crowd around a rather scruffy man who was shuffling three cups, under one of them was a small ball, and he was taking bets on which one it was. Philip had lost two-hundred dollars playing this in the Congo when he was in the forces, although he was much younger and more naive then. He watched as the man took money from a group of onlookers, one of whom won and received his payment, while the others tried again. Rei was late so he kept watching the scene being repeated, while sipping a glass of sickly tea. He gathered the scam as he watched. The same man always came back and was always the person who won. He was the plant to keep people convinced that they could beat the odds. And as he watched more intently and recognised the faces circulating around the crowd he realised that 3 others were always there, too. A short woman stood in the crowd and pushed forward to see, then a man came up behind her and took something from her, which was passed to a third man who walked continuously passed. They were successfully pulling jewellery, bracelets and wallets from the crowd, who were being dazzled by the handwork of the front-man. The scam worked in its own right and as a decoy, and Philip remembered a book he’d read on magic tricks. It’s all smoke and mirrors. The trick is to make people look in the wrong place, then no one notices the obvious happening beneath their noses. It was an old, but ingenious device.
“Mr Brading!” He jumped slightly at the sound. He’d been so engrossed that he hadn’t noticed Rei join him.
“Sorry, I was miles away. What’s happened?” he could tell she was distressed and her face was bruised. “Has someone attacked you?”
“No. Well yes, but that’s not the problem at the moment. I’ve been dismissed from the clinic.”
“Sacked? What for?”
“They’ve made something up. I went in today and I couldn’t get through the security check, it just read ‘authorisation declined’, so I got the security man over and he checked my status, and it came up as ‘terminated’, so he just wouldn’t let me in. I managed to get through to someone in Administrative Affairs and they said that they had a confirmed first rate complaint of misconduct and negligence.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means that there has been a major mis-compliance of regulations that is so obviously my fault that I can’t even appeal against it.” She shook her head and looked into Philip’s eyes. She was emotional and he got the distinct impression that this didn’t happen often. “They say I let someone die,” she said, choking on the words.
“Who? Lyal? How? I mean, I take it you haven’t.”
“Of course I bloody haven’t,” she cried, clearly irritated at the implication. “There’s a boy, George his name is. He’s had a huge problem with multiple organ failure and rejection of the pseudogenetic tissue that was used on him, which shouldn’t ever happen, we’re not sure why it did in this case, but, well, there were several attempts to realign his body to the new tissue, but it failed. It’s rare but it happens sometimes, especially in children. I was the junior on his case until I was moved onto Mathew’s case, but even then there was no further help for him. He died two days ago at his parents’ home.” She stopped and held her breath while she controlled herself. Philip knew better than to interrupt and let her continue in her own time. “Well, now they’re saying that the reason for the pseudogenetic rejection was because he was treated with an overdose of the coagulant that he was on. He was receiving three doses of 0.75 millilitres a day, and now they say that I was injecting 7.5 millilitres, but I wasn’t, I know I wasn’t. It is possible to make a mistake like that, but there is a big difference and I would have realised. They claim that the organs could not bond with the existing cell due to the thinness of the blood, and they’ve convinced the parents about this, but it’s not true. They’ve changed all the records, I know they have because I have seen them, but I don’t have copies, so I can’t prove a thing.”
“Why would they dismiss you on a trumped up misconduct case? I mean, it’s not that I don’t belie
ve you, but I don’t understand why.”
“I don’t know either, but they have. I can only stay in the country while I have that job, so now I have the rest of the time on my visa, which is only 12 days if I’m not working before I have to leave, and they’ve circulated my status already, so no health centre of hospital is going to touch me. They made me move into one of the clinic’s apartments and give up the place I had been renting, and so I’ve had to move all of my belongings out. I have all of my things in a storage unit now. I haven’t any friends here; I have no job and no place to live. They’re forcing me to leave the country, in effect.”
Philip placed a hand on her shoulder and wondered what he should do. “It’s really bad of them,” he said, not meaning to sound as patronising as he did, “but what do want me to do?”
She looked up into his face, her eyes red. “There’s more to it. They have dismissed or moved everyone who worked with Mathew. All of them. And all today. Not one person who was working with him is still employed there.”
“Well, why the hell would they want to do that? Especially as his condition is worsening.”
Rei looked surprised. “What do you mean about his condition worsening?”
“It was announced earlier. It’ll be reported when the news gets updated later today.” He activated his messages and looked up the note that Ravi had sent him. “Here, this is what my editor’s putting out later, ‘Saturday the twenty-sixth of May, 2068. The Walden Clinic admitted today that the condition of their patient Mathew Lyal, the man resurrected from the twentieth century, has been deteriorating steadily over the past 36 hours. It is unknown for what reason this has occurred, but senior staff are gravely concerned for his life following the unexpected downturn. Consultant Dr Malik stated that the next 24 hours would be critical.’ I got that this morning. You don’t know anything about this do you?”
The Relic Keeper Page 15