She must be able to see from my face that I have no idea what Hos-sat is. Then it clicks. Hospital satellite. So Ra – and it seems Athene – know about the satellites.
‘It’s a specialist hospital,’ she explains. ‘The best there is. You wouldn’t know about it yet, I suppose, as you’ve only just started here, but if I could use this compu for a moment I could get permission to take him there.’ I don’t feel happy about her using the compu, but I don’t have much choice. Ra’s had a heart attack and his previous assistant and perhaps lover wants to get him to Hos-sat as soon as possible. She must be desperate to come to me for help. There must be some advantage to me in this, I think rather ungraciously, as I nod my consent to her use of my special auto-put.
Her fingers fly over the keys as she accesses various codes and sends auto-mails and messages. I note several of the codes include the name Stella and wonder about its significance.
‘That should do it,’ she says. ‘They’ll be expecting him. Now, all I have to do is get him in the teleport.’
‘Can I help?’ I ask.
‘That won’t be necessary. He’s in his wheelie. I’m used to pushing it.’
So Ra is in a wheelchair. That’s why we’ve never seen him away from his desk.
Before she leaves, she gives me a shrewd look. ‘I see you’ve found out about the satellites and Durga’s mad plan to invade Oasis.’ She smiles. ‘You know, it’s not enough to minimise the file when someone comes in. Especially someone as astute as me.’
I feel myself blush.
‘Thanks for the tip,’ I say dryly.
‘I can see Ra was right about you. You’re quick and thorough. A bit too full of yourself, but I think you’re going to be useful to us.’
You’re going to be useful to me, I think, as I close the door behind her. She told me something I hadn’t yet worked out – though no doubt I would have done soon enough – that the satellite Durga intends to attack is called Oasis.
I sit at my desk and think about what has just happened. Ra and Athene already know about Durga’s plan. Why then did he give me this task? The answer is simple. To test my ability and my loyalty. Without another thought I close the unnamed file and send it directly to Ra. He may have had a heart attack but when he recovers he will read my report and realise that, not only am I an expert hacker, but also a trustworthy assistant controller.
I fold my arms, sit back on my desk-shaper and give a self-satisfied smile. Ra’s enforced absence will give me the opportunity I need to carry out a bit of research of my own.
If I can find out how exactly the portals work that allow me to view what is going on here on Earth, I might be able to uncover the mechanism for the portals to permit me to view Oasis too.
Looking at the other compounds is an interesting activity in itself. I click on C55 and witness a fight between Jaga and Sati. They have resorted to a wrestling match and are rolling entwined on the floor intent on scratching each other’s eyes out. If – when – I become CEO they won’t last long. I take pleasure at the moment in deleting them from the screen. Zap. They’ve gone. In C37 I find Kali. She is sitting at a compu working as part of a team, no longer a chief administrator. I send her a message on auto-mail and invite her into my chat-cube. She’s pleased to see me and to hear about the scuffle between her two sister-wives in C55.
‘If they’re not careful, Ra will decide to eliminate the entire compound,’ I tell her.
She frowns, not liking that idea at all. ‘Destroying all my good work,’ she says. ‘Terrible. Better for you to ask Ra to reinstate me.’
‘I don’t think he’d take much notice of me,’ I tell her with a grin. ‘I’m the bad boy, remember.’
I don’t tell her Ra is not here. In fact I don’t tell Kali anything. She knows I’m in C99 but she doesn’t know about my promotion.
She starts to moan about Mercury. ‘After all I’ve done for that young humanoid, he hasn’t even sent me an auto-mail. He left Headculturedome without a word of goodbye. Talk about ungrateful. I don’t even know which compound he’s been sent to.’
I have access to all the compounds and I haven’t caught sight of him either. I determine to investigate further, for Kali’s sake, although sometimes I wonder why I bother with her. All she does is whinge and whine.
She’s still talking. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s been kidnapped.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I don’t know. Seems strange to me he disappeared the day that creepy non-mutant in the grey suit came and that I’ve not heard a peep out of him since.’
‘Why would anyone want to kidnap the little messenger?’
‘Why not? He’s very bright, you know, and good-looking.’ She frowns. ‘You don’t think that non-mutant fancied him, do you? I do hope he’s not a paedophile.’ Her snakes shoot out their tongues like sleek swords.
‘Paedophile? Mercury’s not a child any more. He can look after himself. Trouble with you, Kali, you let your imagination run away with you.’
‘But if he’s all right, he should keep in touch.’
‘Tell you what, I’ll try to find out where he is and get back to you.’
I search all the compounds in turn. No Mercury to be found. Perhaps Kali is right and the kid has been kidnapped by the man in the suit and is living on one of the satellites. If so, he could prove a useful contact for me. I could do with a little messenger.
Chapter Fourteen
Oasis Downloaded
(according to Michael)
Journal Entry
This is my first entry as Michael, newly formed and newly arrived on Planet Oasis.
Father decides to give me a quick tour of Oasis, an overview he calls it, before taking me to Home-Court-Jameson.
First Impression: a marvel: Oasis really does float in the air, open to the sky. The buildings have roofs of course, but we are outside, walking outside, my father and I, in the fresh air. Unpolluted, clear, fresh air. I take a deep breath and open my eyes wide.
An ever-moving, ever-changing sky lies above and around us. A bright expanse of blue pierced with blazing beams of sunlight. Feathery clouds fragment into shades of white, grey and black. A cloud bursts and a shower of clear water splatters down. I lift up my chin, open my mouth and drink. Transparent, clean, sparkling water. It splashes over my face and hair and runs down my cheeks. I could stand here forever under this refreshing cascade, but Father takes my arm and bustles me into the cover of a doorway. The temper of the rain is about to change. Here it comes, belting down in wide, shiny, metallic sheets. Liquid glass. Fabulous. I stick out my arm but the vertical water cuts into my skin, knife-sharp. I whip it back under the portal again and we stay there waiting for the deluge to stop. After ten minutes or so it does. The sky fades to a lucid blue and the clouds blow away in tiny slivers of smudged white in an ever-shifting pattern. Incredible.
Second impression: A cityscape. Aluminium and glass towers; central squares with life-size statues of completes; green spaces awash with emerald grass peppered with luminous flowers; a scooped-out pit full of sparkling water. The difference between this city and others that I’ve seen in filmograms is that everything is spotless. No dirt, no grime. No traffic. I wonder if the absence of cars and buses is due to lack of resources or a conscious decision not to pollute the satellite. The latter, I like to think. A new world correcting the mistakes made by the old.
Father is my guide. He points out the municipal buildings: a library full of e-books for the general public to borrow; a sports centre with playing fields and swimming pools with sliding roofs because of the frequent rain; office blocks with large windows eyeing the outside; a medical centre and hospital (not as big or specialised as Hos-sat but useful for less serious cases – maybe the one where I was born); the Symposium, the ultra-modern, gleaming steel parliament building where Father is based; another green space, the university campus with separate structures for the different faculties; a school with playgrounds and more sport
s fields; a modern church with a steeple; and most amazing of all, a shopping mall with displays of everything imaginable from clothes to electrical goods to food.
I don’t understand everything I see but I ask very few questions. I intend to find the answers for myself on line in my study-bedroom at Home-Court-Jameson where we are to go next. My father is looking forward to introducing me to the rest of the family. I’m a little nervous.
Journal Entry
A residential area. All the homes unique: some with turrets like fairy tale castles, others rectangular, mansions some three or four levels high, others circular with curved walls, all set in their own outside space. I am struck again by how green and refreshing everything looks.
We turn a bend and there in front of us is an ultra-modern one-storey building that gleams in the sunlight. Steel, glass and sun. What a combination. ‘The Court-Jameson home,’ says Father. ‘Your home.’
It’s surrounded by bright green lawn. Smooth as velvet. A profusion of metallic pots full of brightly coloured flowers decorate the edges of the lawn.
‘Stella has a knack for gardening,’ Father tells me. ‘A real eye for colour.’
Inside the home are more flowers, plants, wall hangings and furnishings in translucent colours. I’m dazzled by everything I see. Including Stella, who’s tall and elegant with sleek blond hair that cups her face. Her love of colour extends to her flowing dress in turquoise and purple.
She puts her hands lightly on my shoulders and kisses me twice, once on each cheek. A surprise. I’m not sure what to think about that.
‘I’m so pleased to meet you at last, Michael.’ Her voice is silky-soft. ‘I’ve prepared a meal. I hope you’ll like it. Tomorrow you can help me choose what to cook.’
‘I’ll eat whatever you give me. I’m used to that.’
‘I thought we’d have lunch on the terrace,’ she says. ‘It looks as if the rain will hold off for a bit and even if it doesn’t we can slide the roof over.’
She leads me to an outside space at the back of the home where a table has been laid for the three of us. I can’t quite believe it. Not only are we going to eat together, but outside: the biggest change yet.
‘Meals are social occasions here,’ Father explains. He knows about the food packoids given to us in the compounds to heat up and eat alone in our dormo-cubes. ‘When at home, we like to eat as a family. The children are at school now but we like to make quite a thing of the evening meal to chat and catch up with what’s been happening during the day.’
‘When can I see my study-bedroom?’
Stella and Father laugh and exchange an amused look.
‘After lunch,’ says Stella.
The food is not like anything I’ve eaten before, but I eat it quickly. I see Father and Stella exchange another look. Apparently it’s not the done thing to stuff food down your throat as quickly as possible. I’m expected to chat in between mouthfuls. I will also have to learn to use cutlery instead of my fingers. Father tells me all this very politely but it is clear that I have a lot to learn to fit in at Home-Court-Jameson.
My room is just as special as Father described it, with big windows looking out on to that lush emerald lawn. The big screen takes up half a wall. I can’t wait to sit at the compu and that’s exactly what I do for the rest of the afternoon until Father puts his head round the door and tells me the children are home and the family evening meal about to be served. I say I am not hungry and would rather stay on the auto-put but apparently that is not permitted.
The children don’t seem too curious about me. Perhaps they’ve been told to be on their best behaviour, not to stare and or pester me with questions. That suits me fine.
I expect they have their own little lives to think about. I’m not used to these little creatures. I was always the youngest at C55. They sit at the table and use a knife and fork to eat. Stella tells them there’s no rush. I hardly eat a thing. I hope Stella doesn’t think I don’t like her food. That’s not it at all. I don’t mind what I eat. My concern is my lack of dexterity with a knife and fork.
After supper, Stuart asks me if I want to play football in the garden. I tell him I don’t know how to do that.
‘I’ll teach you,’ he says.
I look at Father and he nods. I follow Stuart on to the lawn. He runs some distance away and kicks the ball to me. I stick my foot out but the ball whizzes past it. After several more attempts, Stuart runs to get the ball and gives it me. ‘Here, you kick it to me,’ he says.
I try. I really do, but my foot seems unable to make contact with the ball. Or when it does it only slides a few inches away. Pathetic. Father is watching. He must be wondering if the physiotherapy was completely successful.
After a bit I give up. ‘Sorry. Football is not really my thing,’ I say, hoping to escape to my compu.
Stuart opens his eyes wide. ‘Didn’t you ever play football with other kids?’
‘There were no other children to play with. Only one girl.’ I think of Isis and wonder how she is.
‘What about at school?’
Father comes to the rescue. ‘Michael has been ill for most of his childhood,’ he says. ‘He’s spent a lot of time in Hos-sat and has had several major operations. It’s left his legs weak.’
Father lies easily I think, although not everything he says is a lie. I have had several ops.
‘What a bummer,’ Stuart says. ‘I’d just kill myself if I couldn’t play football.’
I’d like to go back to my study-bedroom but Father says we’re going to watch a film together in what he calls the sitting room, a room with a big screen and lots of body-shapers. It’s a bit like the RR but smaller and cosier.
‘We like to spend the evenings together relaxing as a family,’ Father says.
‘I want to sit next to Michael,’ says Bella.
‘He doesn’t want to sit next to a girl,’ says Stuart.
‘Yes he does.’
‘Doesn’t.’
Father sorts them out. I am to sit in the middle with Bella and Stuart on either side of me. We watch an animated film from the first part of the twentieth first century called Shrek. In some ways the characters remind me of my colleagues, the mutant humanoids, and I feel a little sad that I shan’t be seeing them again.
After the film, Stella says it’s time for Bella to go to bed, but she says, ‘Oh Mummy, I just have to show Michael my doll’s house first.’
Stuart says, ‘He won’t want to see your stupid doll’s house.’
‘He didn’t want to play football but you made him. Anyway you do want to see it, don’t you, Michael?’ and she raises her big blue eyes up to mine and puts her head on one side, willing me to say ‘Yes’ which I do. She takes my hand and leads me to her special room full of toys, including the doll’s house.
She squats down and pats the floor for me to sit down beside her. She points out all the rooms in the house, the furniture and the miniature people who live there. ‘That’s Olivia and that’s her husband, Malcolm, and these are their children. Aren’t they just perfect?’
She chatters to the miniature family as if they are real and moves them about from room to room. I have no idea if I’m supposed to join in with her make-believe or not. It doesn’t matter. Bella keeps up a steady stream of chatter, enough for both of us.
Stella arrives. ‘That’s enough, young lady. Time for bed now. School tomorrow, remember. Say goodnight to Michael.’
I’m not at all sure I like all this happy family business.
Journal Entry
I don’t have much time to write in my journal. My days are taken up with a kind of initiation course. Stella is my tutor and she’s very strict. She restricts the time I spend on the compu. It’s not necessary for me to live vicariously now I’m on Oasis, she says. I’m not sure what she means by that. I understand the words all right. It’s the concept I don’t quite get. I think she means that I must learn to become an integral member of the family and the community and not spend
so much time studying. I need a few social skills, she tells me, and then I’ll be well away.
We spend time in the kitchen. She teaches me how to use cutlery – fork in the left hand knife in the right – and makes me practise cutting up meat and vegetables and placing the food carefully on the fork so I don’t spill anything. I must never put the knife in my mouth. I’m not very good at it. I’ve always considered myself a quick learner and my fingers fly deftly over a keyboard without any trouble but give me a knife and fork or even a spoon and I’m as clumsy as with a football. I can hear Janey’s voice saying, ‘It’s all a matter of co-ordination, Michael. You can do it. You know you can.’
While in the kitchen, Stella shows me the contents of her cupboards. The selection of food and drink and crockery and glasses for every occasion blows my mind. She takes a spoon and introduces me to different tastes, looking at me carefully to judge my reaction. She doesn’t understand that I don’t care what I eat.
The next stage of my initiation takes place in the shopping mall. Massive shop windows full of goods of every kind make Stella’s cupboards look empty. She wants to buy me clothes and suggests I choose them. I look at the other young people in the mall but still have little idea. I’ve only ever worn monos supplied by Worldwideculture. They come in packoids like the food. It’s never occurred to me to take an interest in fashion. In the end, Stella chooses for me: jeans, T-shirts, socks, trainers and underpants. The latter are garments I’ve never worn before, but she assures me they’re necessary. In the food hall, I am amazed all over again by the variety of choice, but Stella seems to have no trouble picking out what she wants. It will be some time before I will be knowledgeable enough to know what these items taste like and when it’s appropriate to eat them. She pays for everything with a plastic card. They’ll be teleported to our home later today.
Ascension Page 14