by LK Walker
I bang into the table with the back of my thighs as I step back. Zander grabs my hips and lifts me up on the table. He’s in front of me, between my legs as he reaches for the cord. Last time he was standing in this position I had grabbed at his waistband and hauled him in. Not this time. Zander sticks the cord on to the back of my neck and my vision vibrates until I see with my own eyes once more.
“There. You’re all wired and ready to go.”
“What if the drones find us and I jump back to my own body. What happens to Vera? What happens to you?”
“If their aim improves and they manage to hit Vera, then that’s it. The neural link you share with her is not replicatable. If Vera is killed, you’d no longer be able to come forward to us, either on a nightly or permanent basis. It would be over.”
“And you?”
“They still make flesh the same as they did in your day. It’s still not that good at surviving being blown up.”
Truth dawns on me. I suck in my lower lip as I weigh up this information. I look Zander in the eye. “You’re risking everything for me, aren’t you?”
He shuffles uncomfortably in front of me. He looks as if he might say something but closes his mouth again, as if he has thought better of it.
“You’re important. You can help so many. Cara, you’re worth it,” he finally says.
“And JT too?” It’s the first time I can remember discussing JT with Zander.
“We were wondered how aware you were of each other. You weren’t in the same town when your connections were made. JT’s connection was initiated first, and it took longer than expected to work out the glitches. We were under the ill-informed belief that JT and you had met a few years back, not when you were in your twenties. You both managed to keep that quiet.”
“Is JT safe?” I ask.
“He’s safe. He’s already confirmed he’ll come through. We’re no longer connecting with him until we’re ready to transfer him permanently.”
“He’s already said yes?” I’m a little hurt that JT didn’t tell me himself.
“It was easier for him to make the decision.”
“How?”
“I can’t discuss that with you.”
“What a surprise. I’ll just have to ask JT.” Zander looks at me as if he knows better. It rubs me the wrong way. JT will talk, I know he will. There is no point arguing any further. “Well, if the older version of me is so keen on having me come, why don’t you send her in here. I might listen to me. Maybe.”
“You’re not available right now.” Zander sounds like an automated telephone message.
“Why not? You make it seem so important that I agree to this, yet older me doesn’t think it’s worth my attention?”
“Cara think’s it is. Trust me. She would be here if she could.”
“What’s she doing that’s more important?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Too many dead ends are making my head spin. So is talking about myself as if I’m an independent person.
Something metallic flies past the window. From the small glimpse I get, it looks like a patchwork metal ball. I can’t be sure, but I think there was a maroon eye looking out from it. My instincts take over without an invitation.
“They found us.” I lurch off the table at Zander, pulling him to the floor. The connection tugs at my neck and comes off. “You need to get the hell out of here,” I yell at him. Zander is looking confused. “What did you see?” He asks, one eye has turned black and the other is fixed on the window, scanning the small area of sky that is visible.
“It was one of those drones. It flew straight past.”
“I’m not getting any threats on comms.” Zander slides out from under me and signals for me to stay put. He hesitantly walks to the window and looks out, checking both ways.
“Was it circular, with cameras?” He asks without looking back at me.
“Like a ball with a purple eye.”
He throws his head back in relief. “It was a Police drone. Looks like there are a couple of guys having a scrap down the street. Nothing to be worried about.” He pumps out a breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I feel a little silly.
“Thanks for saving me.” Zander gives me a cheeky smile.
Ignoring him, I jump back up on the bed and waggle the loose cord. He clicks the window to make it opaque and then he’s next to me reattaching the link.
“If it makes you feel any safer, we’ve headed north to Canada. They’re less likely to track us here. And the two people that were in the room when you arrived, are monitoring any airways traffic. The chance of anyone coming for us without warning is pretty slim.”
Zander’s speech doesn’t make me feel any better, only paranoid.
“I prefer seeing out of my own eyes.” It’s my excuse to be hooked back up. I’m not sure why I try to hide my concern. I’ve been adamant I don’t want to be stuck in this world. The cord in the back of the neck reinforces it. And it lets me relax a little. I’ve started to jump at every sound.
I keep my mind occupied by imagining what my life will be in the future if I had lived it through till now. There is one certainty I can think of. “What about Jack?” I ask Zander.
“What about him?” Zander moves away from me and takes a seat back near the window. He rubs his jaw hiding the frown that has appeared at my question.
“Why can’t he come tell me why I should come through?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s not that freakin’ hard either. I don’t have to see him, just get him on the phone…” I look around for a handset. I want a prop to point at to send the message home. “Where is the bloody phone?”
“They’re no longer what they use to be.”
“Well, find whatever contraption you use now and call someone, Jack, Eli, Dad …” It’s currently twenty-six years since I last saw Dad. He was fifty-two back then. “Is Dad still alive?”
The look on Zander’s face pre-empts the bad news.
“Sorry Cara. He died of heart failure three or four years back.”
Hearing he’s dead is like getting kicked in the guts. My dad is dead. He only lived to his seventies. It makes me sick to think he’s gone. “Did he have a good life?” My voice wavers as I ask. Tears are threatening to breach. It’s silly, but to me he’s still fifty-two and healthy.
“I don’t know.” Zander speaks softly. “I never knew him.”
I’m trying hard not to cry. I don’t care what age he was, I don’t want to lose him.
“What about Jack? Is he okay?” My pessimism is at full power. I’m waiting to hear that someone else didn’t make it. Someone who should still be here with me. I don’t want to think of grown-up me alone in this world.
“He’s fine. We can’t bring him in. Not now.”
“And Eli?”
“He’s alive.” But Zander discards our eye contact and instead focuses on a spot in the distance.
“And?” I’m not letting it go. Zander must be getting fed up with me. He snorts out a breath of air.
“And he’s part of this too.” He concedes.
That is the most honest information I’ve had for a while. “Is he safe?”
“We don’t know. You know I can’t tell you more.”
This scares me the most. Something is wrong with Eli. At least Zander has disclosed that much. If there’s anything I can do for Eli, I will, even if it’s in the future. There’s only one question that keeps creeping up on me, stopping me from committing. Is this real? Is it an elaborate hoax and I’m on a film set somewhere in Hollywood and the street scene outside is a clever guise? I feel like an animal in a cage being experimented on. Am I only being shown what they want me to see. I only hear what they tell me. I look directly at Zander, evaluating who he is. He’s staring back at me, not dropping his gaze now, no doubt waiting for my next barrage of questions. His eyes look sad. I try to work out why. All the time we’ve spent together, was tha
t reality or a cleverly staged production? I’ve got to find out for myself whether there is a real world beyond the window.
Time to be stupid.
My impending recklessness makes me feel nauseous. What I wouldn’t do to make sure Eli is safe.
Chapter 22
“What about a drink. Can I have one of those?” I try to make my voice sound resigned, to cover up the adrenaline that is starting to pump through my veins.
“That I can do.” Zander looks relieved that I’ve stopped asking questions. The kitchen is in the same room, behind me. I use the time to look around. The front door is next to the kitchen. How the hell am I gonna get out there? Zander brings back a bottle of water and hands it to me.
“Still using plastic?” I accuse him as if he alone has continued its use.
“Liquid wood. It works the same, but it’s biodegradable.”
“Don’t have a tissue, do you?” I have scouted the bench top from my seat and I can’t see a box anywhere. I’m hoping it’s a better choice than the water to move him away from my escape route. Zander wanders into the kitchen and starts opening the cupboards one by one, banging them closed after examining their contents. Finally, he gives up his hunt and leaves the kitchen, heading into the bedroom. I can’t see him anymore, but I can hear the same banging. The cord attached to my neck has been on and off so many times today that whatever was making it stick no longer has its initial gusto. I yank it and it falls to the table top.
My heart is in my throat. I step cautiously, silently, and head to the door. The door knob is cold in my hand. One last breath. I throw the door open and sprint as fast as I can.
There’s a long hallway stretching out before me. The wall has a handrail extending along its length, landscape paintings dotted along either side. Zander is still in the apartment. I can hear him screaming my name. He should be behind me by now, coming at me down the hall. I know he’s faster than I am. But he is nowhere to be seen. He can’t be chasing me. Not yet, anyway.
I hear the click of a door opening somewhere up ahead. There is nothing in my vision that moves. “Watch out.” Someone yells at me. The sound of their voice is next to my ear. I swerve away from the cries. I look around to see the people I’ve offended, intent on apologizing for my mistake. No one is there. The door I thought I heard open is now closed. There are still voices around me. It’s like listening to ghosts. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I force myself forward.
The ding of an elevator catches my attention. It’s up at the end of the hallway. Too slow, I think to myself, stairs are faster. The stairwell is off to the right. I rip the door open and plunge through it into complete darkness. There is nothing. Noises still reach my ears, but my vision is blank. I feel around, trying not to move my feet too much in case I’m close to the top step. I slide my foot out until it finds the edge and work back from there. I feel around for the wall and when I find it, flatten my palms to it and systematically move them across the surface looking for a light switch. The wall is lightly dimpled and almost chalky feeling. Voices come to me again, this time they are asking if I’m okay. I can’t see who is speaking in the dark. Someone calls me a young lady as if he can see me. I don’t like feeling this crazy, and I refuse to choose today to believe in ghosts. When a hand clamps down on my arm, I nearly rip myself from my skin.
“Are you alright, dear?” It is a kind, masculine voice, although I can hear apprehension in it.
The shock of that hand makes me aware of what I’ve been missing. I’m no longer connected to the computer, so my vision is through Zander’s eyes and from his memories. My brain almost sends out an audible click as it engages—he never used this stairwell, never saw it. The computer doesn’t have any visual information to feed through to me.
I laugh a little at my own stupidity. “I’ll be fine,” I reply to the hand still holding on to me. “Just having trouble with my eyes.” The hand releases its grip and I hear the stairwell door opening. The light coming through the door has my attention and I follow it back out. There I can see. I glance back down the corridor towards the room Zander is in. He hasn’t appeared in the hall yet. What’s taking him so long?
At least I can see the buttons for the elevator. The down arrow doesn’t light up when I press it. At least the door chimes when it opens. To my relief, I can see the elevators interior. “Hello?” I hope there isn’t anyone in here. If there and they reply, there’s less of a chance I’ll walk straight into them. No one responds and I make a leap in, worried the doors might close in front of my face, without me noticing. Not wasting any time deciding where I’m going, I stab a long finger at the ground floor button before returning my gaze back down the hall. The image suddenly changes as Zander comes storming out of the apartment. An elderly couple materialise a few feet from where I am. They’re making their way down the hallway, in less of a rush than I had been, heading towards another apartment door. The man looks back at me, apprehension on his face. He must have been the disembodied hand. Smiling at him is apparently enough reassurance for him to turn away. That is until he sees Zander careening down the hallway towards me.
“Cara—wait,” Zander holds a hand up, imploring me to hold the elevator. Under his other arm, he has what looks like a cross between a laptop and a thick white brochure, I can only assume it was the computer I was hooked up to. The elevator doors close, Zander still a distance from the doors.
The doors reopen after a couple of seconds and I’m half expecting to see Zander’s face staring at me having not moved floors at all. I was wrong about the elevator, it isn’t slow—or jerky for that matter. Before me is a wide open-plan foyer. The nurses are distinguishable by the uniforms they have on, I count three in the room, surrounded a dozen other people. A young woman in plain blue scrubs glides across the marble floor without a sound. I can see her feet touching the ground. The lack of noise is unnerving. She’s not really there, not now anyway.
The doors to the outside world are directly in front. Moving cautiously towards them, with hands outstretched, I listen intently for any noise, any sign that someone is in my path. The doors open automatically; I can hear them slide along the floor.
The air outside is warmer than I expected, a gust catches me a little off guard and brings with it a whiff of fried food. I step out of the building towards the smell. Out here, there’s a mix of familiar sights, shops, and buildings, concrete underfoot, same as there always has been in my lifetime, but with a sidewalk awash with light and noise, filled with people sporting unfamiliar fashion choices. It’s more like daytime out here. Everything glows, a brightness that is somehow, like the clamor, muted by the sidewalk covers above. For the first time, I believe Zander has been telling me the truth. A few people I can’t see nudge me on the way past, some say sorry, most don’t.
The picture in front of me changes, like the switch on the window and I can suddenly see them walking at me. The street is full of people.
Zander is now standing by my side.
“You could have asked to go out.” He appears a little frazzled.
“I did and you wouldn’t let me, remember?” I turn to look at him. For a change, he isn’t staring at me. His eyes are shifting from person to person and anything else that moves.
“Let’s get off the streets. How about a bar?” Zander grabs my hand and leads me down the crowded sidewalk, towards a set of shops.
My eyes are captivated by a glowing sign, ten feet ahead. It appears to be floating next to the curb, loud and in your face. It’s advertising. At least some things haven’t changed. Without pausing, a woman walks through the sign which is showing a flurry of pictures of sand, surf and cocktailed laden bars. As she strolls away, the advert changes to a disgusting looking health drink, blue with green speckles. I walk up to the sign. Zander’s and my hands are still joined and the lengthened tether between us makes life difficult for those walking towards us. The drink looks almost tangible. My sweeping hand passes through the billboard without any res
istance. The recording doesn’t stop. The advert switches from the drink to a men’s clothing store.
With renewed effort, Zander tugs at my hand before wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“People are looking, Cara. You can’t draw attention to yourself.” His tone lies somewhere between a whisper and a growl.
“What was that?”
“Advertising. Automated personal advertising.”
“It was trying to sell me men’s clothes.” I point out. “It’s a little off the mark, wouldn’t you say?”
“The unit wasn’t advertising to you. It was aiming at me. It will have scanned for your chip and found nothing to go on. I was the next closest so it shifted its focus. The computers that run them are data scavengers too. They gather as much information as they can. It will have registered you were there and recorded you as unchipped.”
I feel violated.
“We need to keep moving.” Zander says.
“Oh,” is all I can reply, giving in to his pressure on my back.
I let Zander steer me through the crowd as I study the people coming towards me. I’ve walked ten yards and passed at least twenty people walking the other way. A woman strides, darting in and out of gaps, talking to herself. Her left eye is completely black, the same as Zander’s when he is on comms, except she has a red ‘X’ flashing in the center. Her other eye seems to be taking in the world around her. Her unimpeded eye settles on me before moving on to the next obstacle. I look around, she’s not the only one with an eye covered over, although no others have a flashing ‘X’.
“What are they doing?” I ask Zander. Then it twigs. “They’re the communication units—they’re phones.”
“Cara, you have to promise not to discuss any of this once you leave here.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen his expression so grave. Perhaps after the blast back at camp, he might have looked like that. If he did, I had been too terrified to notice. Not this time, though.
“Everything will be fine. I won’t say a word to anyone.” I reassure him. “They’d lock me up in a soft cell.”