Countdown to Extinction

by Louise Moss

  “We must make a move soon, before they realise that we have decided not to cooperate with their plans,” he said, his voice animated. It had dropped a few semitones too.

  Everything happened in slow motion. Merle screwed her eyes up as if trying to focus, before taking a slow breath. “I’ve been talking to the women.” The words sounded slurred. “We’re all right here, we’re going to stay.” She sank back, as if the act of speaking had exhausted her.

  “But yesterday you wanted to leave; we were making plans,” Gerald’s said, his words exploding out of him like a gunshot.

  Drawing himself up slowly, Adrian said, “Merle was upset over the baby, but now we both realise that they did what was best. We don’t know anything about this world. Perhaps we can’t live out there. Maybe the atmosphere has changed; it might be too hot or too cold. Perhaps we can’t live in it, so they have to take the children away to get them acclimatised. It’s the best chance for them. We have to give our children this chance.”

  “Surely you’re not going to do as they wish, have more children?”

  Merle flushed slightly before answering cagily. “Well, we could do worse than that.”

  “What about the other couples? What do they say?”

  “We all feel the same way. If you think about it, you’ll see it’s for the best.”

  “No, I won’t,” Gerald replied swiftly. “I’ll never believe that.”

  Adrian shook his head. “You’ll only make yourself unhappy. And Emma too.”

  “Emma?”

  “Yes, you’re making her very unhappy. She’d like a baby.”

  Gerald flushed and shook his head. This was an issue he wasn’t going to discuss.

  He made his way to his room, thoughts racing through his head, pounding at his forehead. At first, he had thought of Emma as a mere child, too young to know what was best. As he’d got to know her, he saw that she was wise beyond her years and could be of use. But then—her hair, her perfect figure, her long fingers and her mobile hands—she was a woman now. wanted to feel those hands moving over his body.

  “Emma.” It sounded like a plea. Her eyelashes were long and framed her eyes. “I am ready to fight for freedom for all of us here, but I’ve just come from Merle and Adrian. They want to stay here and have more children. I don’t understand it. His voice trailed off as she uncurled her long legs.

  “It’s the film. You didn’t go, did you?”

  He shook his head and grasped his hand, trying to stop the trembling. Her words were like waves lapping the shore, stirring up the beach, stirring up desire.

  “I realised what they were doing soon after it started. They make you think everything’s right with the world. You just want to do what they say. I don’t know how they do it, but it’s like when Rob and me used to smoke pot. You got this wonderful feeling, but when it wore off, you knew it was only the drugs. I left as soon as I realised what was happening, but everyone else stayed there, so you see, there’s no way they’re going to join your fight.”

  He didn’t want to talk about films; he wanted to tell her…. Drawing himself reluctantly back to the topic, he said, “Yes, of course. Even in my day there were subliminal messages, very fast messages that you couldn’t read but the brain knew what they said. It was made illegal soon after it started.” He took her hand. He couldn’t stop himself, and he didn’t want to.

  “You’ve changed.”

  He had changed, and it had stemmed from that visit downstairs. What had they done to him? Was he being manipulated? Well, what if he was? He loved these new sensations.

  “What about you, Emma, what do you want?” He spoke ambiguously, not certain himself whether he was talking about their plans to escape or something more personal.

  “We can’t take them all on by ourselves.”

  Guilt for what he was doing gripped him by the throat. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, standing up and moving quickly away. Reaching around his neck, he drew out Margaret’s ring. He had never properly explained to Emma how impossible it would be to sleep with her. He began to form the words in his head, but somehow, all his arguments about being faithful, about his age, didn’t matter anymore. That was the past. Desire drowned out the voice in his head telling him it was wrong. It was time to live in the present. He strode back purposefully across the room - to Emma, and the satisfaction his body was craving.

  Upstairs in Hagan’s laboratory, the system reported that the drug was working, but Hagan was not there to see it. He had immersed himself in a different pleasure, his favourite Mirage, Deep Sea Diving. First came the journey across the top of the water, then the feeling of falling, followed by that wonderful sensation of actually being in the warm, clear water, feeling it against his hair, his skin and every part of his body. Below him the rocks were hidden beneath colourful plants that sprouted from their crevices. He touched their gently waving fronds with his feet and savoured the sensation of soft, gritty ground beneath the sea.

  Fish swam towards him. He loved the fish. They were always different—different colours, different shapes, sometimes a few, sometimes many. You never knew. That was the joy of Mirage. The system never repeated an experience exactly. Sometimes there would be a coral reef with fish swimming in and out of the holes. Once there had been a sunken boat, its dark, rotting wood looming up out of the darkness, its anchor gleaming.

  The fish came close. The fluttering fins sent a warm current towards him that set his skin tingling.

  He had entered one of the Primitives’ Mirages early on, a boxing match and it had been a very different experience. When the opponent hit him in the stomach, he had doubled up with pain. That had never before happened to him.

  Because of the chaotic nature of the Primitives’ Mirages, the Leaders had forbidden the Workers to enter the Long Room, or even to be in the corridors, during the entertainment. Hagan thought he had seen a hump-backed figure in the shadows once as the Primitives filed into the Long Room, but the monitors had revealed no unusual activity.

  The success of the Leaders’ plan depended on him understanding these Primitives, and he was not making enough progress with that. What exactly did the Primitives feel? What were their Primitive minds capable of?

  He had learned about the Primitives’ customs, seen many of the objects they made, learned of their farming methods and their buildings, but there was something else, something he didn’t understand. He had seen something similar at Proteus in the image of a Primitive male stroking a female’s hair, the touching of lips, the stroking of the body and worse. In those scenes of reproduction, there had been a look between the two Primitives similar to the one he had seen between mother and baby, a look that he could not interpret. It did not exist in his world. It was something that they sought time and time again.

  Books that had been outlawed thousands of years ago had shown him a haphazard, chaotic world that made no sense: travel, adventure, survival in extraordinarily hostile environments - but he had come no nearer to understanding the primitives.

  He climbed reluctantly into the boat that would take him back to the shore.

  Back in his laboratory Hagan noted that the drug he had given Gerald was working. The man might yet be reprieved, if the female became pregnant.

  On the floors above, Gerald’s shame continued. He could not stop himself from looking at the curve of a woman’s breasts beneath her tunic, or a pair of rounded buttocks as he followed a woman down the corridor. Visions of naked women appeared unbidden in his mind, causing him to turn away from what he was doing to hurry back to Emma and that blissful moment of release. Afterwards he could think and make plans…for a little while, until desire welled up inside him once more and he turned to her again.

  After a particularly boisterous bout of lovemaking, he made his way to the balcony. He could think better here, where there were no distractions. Hearing a noise from lower down, he leaned over the railing and he was surprised to see a figure four stories below leaping onto the thin balcony rai
l. Balancing there for a moment, he stretched himself to full height, jumped, and caught the railings above. Gerald turned away, not wanting to watch the man falling to his death, but a moment later, he appeared on the narrow railing.

  “Not lost my touch,” he said, jumping down onto the balcony and holding out his hand. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? That first day.”

  “You’re the man in the wheelchair.”

  “As you see, they’ve cured me. I had Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. Some people thought it was a made up illness, but it wasn’t. I didn’t have the strength to get out of bed some days.”

  “Where did you learn to climb like that?”

  “I was a free runner before my illness.”

  “A free runner?”

  “It was a movement back in the beginning of the twenty-first century. We used the streets as our obstacle course, running and jumping without landing on the ground. It’s great to do it again.” Colin’s smile faded. “Seriously though, I wouldn’t recommend it as a way to escape.”

  “What has brought you here?”

  “I heard you wanted to form an escape plan back when they still allowed Bertrand to see the pregnant women. Most of the couples were keen to join you, but now they’ve lost interest in trying to escape. They said they are happy where they are.”

  “Yes, it’s happened here too. Emma says it’s the films they show. They’re filling their heads with subliminal messages – or the modern equivalent. Anyone who watches them believes everything’s fine.”

  “I see, that explains why I don’t feel the same way. I never watch them. I prefer to be active. Is there any way we can fight it?”

  Gerald shook his head. “There might be a few who don’t go to the films who still want to fight but I haven’t found any yet.”

  “We must try to find them. If just a few of us could escape, we could help the others.”

  “The problem is the doors. I haven’t found out how to open them yet. “Have you climbed down to the lower floors yet?”

  “No. I was worried I would be seen and caught, and I don’t want to risk that, especially with Val expecting our baby soon.”

  “So you don’t know anything of the world outside this building?”

  “No. How about you?”

  Gerald shook his head. “I saw a man called Hagan when I was first taken from the vault. I was hoping to see him again, ask him some questions, but all I’ve seen are the Bluecoats who are vicious and only speak in growls.”

  “I’ve seen people in white coats further down but, like you, I saw Hagan once, then was put in this prison with the Bluecoats in charge.

  “There was something strange about that meeting with Hagan, something not quite real. He looked exactly like the doctor who administered the final injection all that time ago. I hadn’t forgotten that blonde hair and blue eyes.”

  “Hagan also looked like my doctor, but he was dark with an Eastern European appearance.”

  Two doctors, each calling themselves Hagan? Or one Hagan who could disguise himself as whatever he wanted?

  “I can’t stay long,” Colin said. We have to do is find as many as we can who want to fight. I will contact the other floors when I can, but I must be careful.”

  “I will come to the balcony when night falls every evening and wait for you.”

  “I will come when I can.” He leapt onto the railing, balanced for a moment and was gone.

  Seeing Colin had given him hope, but was he just clutching at straws? What if they did manage to escape? They knew nothing of what lay beyond the clinic walls. If the people were like the Bluecoats, how would they survive? There could be all sorts of unknown dangers. But they had to try; yes, they had to try.

  On the way back to his room, the sight of a woman bursting out of her tight tunic sent all thoughts of escape out of his mind. The woman was in the early stages of pregnancy, but that did nothing to diminish the now familiar desire that raced around his body.

  Emma lay asleep. As he lay down beside her, pressing his hard body into hers, she stirred and opened her eyes. Margaret’s face flashed into Gerald’s mind momentarily, followed by the familiar feeling of guilt, but he swept them to one side. His need was too strong.

  7

  “The Leaders have given permission for you to attempt the regeneration of missing limbs,” Tostig said.

  “I believe this is possible,” Hagan replied. “The pathway of molecular signals that controls limb regeneration is present in humans. If the pathway is stimulated, new cells will begin to grow.”

  “They have also given permission for all females who can no longer bear children to be used to further your DNA experiments and the effects of peyote on the mind.”

  When he had gone, Hagan ordered the release of an elderly woman from the vault. When all those who worked at the clinic were asleep, he moved her to the laboratory. Keeping her heart and breathing rate reduced, he used transcranial stimulation to restore her brain to near normal functions.

  While she was still unconscious, he administered a dose of mescaline and watched the monitors record a significant rise in blood pressure, heart rate and temperature. Of great interest was the unusual brain wave pattern. Neurons misfired, connections broke. The state did not appear critical, and within ten minutes, all functions had returned to normal.

  What he did not know, was what the Primitive had seen, heard, or thought while in the abnormal state. For that, the woman needed to be conscious when he administered the dose. The container of mescaline solution stood ready. In this greenish liquid could lie the answer to many secrets.

  Many scientists around the world were searching for the source of creation. Whoever found the answer first, would be famous throughout history. He applied restraints to the body on the table and was about to set the system to bring the woman to consciousness when he had another idea. There was only one way he could be certain what effect the substance had on the body. He dipped his finger into the liquid and licked. It tasted quite pleasant. Without any further hesitation, he opened his mouth, tipped the liquid in, and swallowed.

  On the way to his sleeping quarters, he passed Zorina’s room. The door was slightly open and through the crack, he could see her brushing her thin, wispy hair prior to retiring to bed. For a moment, his mind overlaid Zorina’s image with that of the Primitive Emma. She had brushed her hair in the same way in preparation for sleep, but her hair was long and shiny. Suddenly, he wanted to feel it, to know what it was like to touch hair and in that moment, he knew that the drug had altered his mind.

  He stepped inside. Zorina turned. “What is it?”

  He had never intruded into her space before, never wanted to. It was breaking the protocol. She would find his presence there unpleasant, unwelcome, but he did not want to leave her, not until….

  “You are in my room,” she stated.

  As he went towards her, she shrank back. Into his mind came one of the scenes he had seen at Proteus, a strong, healthy Primitive male taking possession of the woman.

  He should not have taken the drug. If Zorina found out, it would be her duty to report him to the authorities. He should walk away now, and yet something was keeping him here. His Superior mind was slipping away and the Primitive part of him was growing stronger. A strange desire threatened to overwhelm him. He knew he must not voice it aloud, and yet something seemed to have taken possession of his mind. “Will you take a trip with me? We can go together to the caves, or fly on horseback side by side,” he said.

  She gasped and shrank back.

  Hagan lowered his eyes, a submissive gesture rare in a Superior. “Zorina, I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

  He forced away the images that swamped his mind and walked purposefully to the door. Closing it behind him, he remained outside, listening to Zorina. “He has been acting strangely and I am concerned for his welfare.”

  She had called Security. They would be there any minute. All they would see is that he had disobeyed the Leaders and wip
e everything from his mind. He couldn’t lose what he had learned so far. The discoveries were too important. They brought him closer to an understanding of, not only of the Primitives, but of the origins of the universe. Only he knew how much the success of the plan depended on him alone. Only he could make it work but Security would see only that he had defied orders.

  An overwhelming force, the primeval need to survive, flowed through him, telling him to that the Leaders were his enemies. Among the jumbled voices in his head, one spoke louder than the others. He must find Primitive Gerald. His life and the life of everyone on Earth could depend on it.

  It was dangerous. Doctors were never seen on the upper floors. If he appeared there now, it would be a sign of his madness.

  He returned to his laboratory and manipulated the system to make it appear that he was in the Thermal Chamber. They would not look for him there. It would not stop them from finding him in the end, but it would slow them down.

  He hurried along the corridor linking his living quarters to the clinic. The workers were still sleeping and the lower floors were in darkness. He must be quick.

  In the lift, he wrapped himself in the image of twentieth century man – tall, smooth complexion, thick hair. Sliding through the double doors on the tenth floor, he was met by a foul stench. In his haste, he had forgotten that the workers could not attend to the Primitives without an air filter. There was no time to go back, he must press on.

  Gerald and Emma lay in the dark. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked. “I think it’s a bit like that now. Okay, our bodies are the same, but we’ve come into a different life. There’s no point in thinking about the old life. It’s gone and it isn’t ever going to come back.”

  He thought about her words. At the back of his mind had always been the hope that one day they would get out of here and find that the world hadn’t changed much. He had harboured the hope that he would find his family, or at least their descendants, and that his house would still be standing. Now he saw this was probably not going to happen. It was as Emma said: the old life had gone for good and was never coming back.