by T. C. Edge
I’m grateful that that particular memory stays away until I’ve finished off my plate. It might otherwise have put a hex on the entire thing, which would be quite the disappointment given how good a time I’m having.
By the time the meal has concluded, and we retire to the sofas once again with glasses in hand, I’m beginning to look upon Adryan in a new light. I can’t tell whether it’s the alcohol – I’m sure it is, at least to a certain extent – but I’m actually starting to enjoy his company.
He even goes so far as to make me laugh. Not necessarily through his own ability to tell a joke, but more through his natural coolness and his amusing manner of taking things quite literally.
I suppose, when we’re not talking about such serious things, it can be very interesting spending time with a man like him. Learning about what makes him tick, and the world he inhabits.
And, it turns out, learning about each other is an important facet of the courting process. Apparently, it’s not just about ‘signing a contract’ as he made me believe last time. There’s also a test that I’ll need to pass to show that I have at least a basic knowledge of his past, as well as the inner workings of life here.
It’s just another hoop for us Unenhanced to jump through to prove our commitment to living here and learning about the world we’re set to join, and the man we’re set to marry.
It does ring a bell, somewhere in my head. I suspect Sophie would have mentioned this test at some point, most probably during one of her unbearably dull slideshows.
“It’s a means to an end,” Adryan assures me. “It won’t be difficult, but it is important that you know a bit about me. They’ll be asking some simple questions about me and my work. As well as Inner Haven itself.”
“OK. So…like, how old are you?” I ask. “Surely they’ll ask that?”
“I suspect so. I’m 23. And you’re 18. I know that already. Obviously.”
“Yeah, although I’ll be 19 soon. And what about your birthday?”
He shakes his head.
“What does that mean? They won’t ask about birthdays?”
“No. I don’t have a birthday.”
“Huh. How can you not have a birthday?”
I know, of course, that it’s fairly common for orphans over at the academy to be unaware of their birthdays. But Adryan? That makes no sense…
“I know I was born in April. That’s all. Age isn’t really important here. It’s merely a number that has no bearing on anything. People are judged on their ability to perform their work. Knowing how old someone is doesn’t change that.”
“That’s…odd,” I say. Although, inside, I’m thinking that it actually makes some sense. “But, your parents. Surely they know when you were born, right?”
Again, he shakes his head.
“I don’t know who my parents are.”
I lean in, peering at him.
“What, so…you’re an orphan, like me?” I ask softly.
“I don’t know exactly,” he says, maintaining his natural stoicism. “You’re not aware of our custom, are you?”
I shake my head.
“Well, Savants don’t believe in family. There is no concept of it in the High Tower anymore.”
“You…what? You don’t believe in family!”
Age I can get on board with. But family?!
“It is our custom, Brie. When a child is born, they are taken and raised in a communal nursery. It means that the mother and father have no such distraction and are able to continue to work at their peak level of effectiveness. The children will then be assigned a name, and are raised until they reach an age where they can begin their duty. During that time they are closely monitored to determine their specialist skills, abilities, and aptitudes, before being appointed to a post that is most suited to them.”
I listen with a slack-jawed gape and dull, staring eyes. It sounds…inhuman.
It is inhuman.
“So you’ve never met your parents?”
He shakes his head.
“And yet, you might have seen them before? Or even work with one of them?” I continue.
“Oh, it’s highly likely that I’ve seen them both,” he says. “That is, if they’re still alive. And, well, that’s highly likely too. Savants very rarely die, except through old age and other such natural causes.”
“I just…I can’t get my head around this. So you were taken from your mother as a baby, and she never got to see you again?”
“Yes,” he says casually. “That is the custom here. You have to remember, Brie, that most Savants have such blunted emotions that they feel no love for their children at all. Without that love, the notion of family just evaporated.”
“But the rest of the Enhanced have families. I know a couple – Sophie and Rycard – they have a son, Maddox. He’s only a baby, but he still lives with them. He isn’t…they’re not going to take him away are they?” I ask, my chest tightening at the thought.
“Oh no, nothing like that. That would be far too dangerous, and the Consortium know it. The rest of the Enhanced still have their emotions. If you took their children, now that might be one step too far.”
“But what about you? You seem much more, I don’t know, normal than other Savants. How do you feel about it?”
He takes a sip of wine and performs a little shrug.
“I have few feelings on it. I can’t care about people I’ve never met. It’s the custom I grew up with, so it’s always been this way.”
“You don’t care about knowing who your parents are at all?” I ask, seeing the parallel with my own life. For me, it’s all I want to know.
“It won’t do me any good. So, no, I have no desire to find out.”
He sounds like Zander. I guess my brother’s Savant side is more powerful than he thought.
“But are there records?” I ask. “There has to be something. I mean, what if a couple of Savants had two kids, a boy and a girl. And then, they grew up, but they didn’t know each other. What if they met…they could start courting or something.”
I stop myself short. The thought makes me shudder.
“Well, yes, that’s a genuine concern. So, like you say, the lineage of all Savants is kept on file, just in case such an unfortunate event arises. Should that happen, the relevant authorities would step in and prevent it.”
“And…is everything kept on file?” I ask, my thoughts staying with my own parents. “Like, the deaths of Savants and other Enhanced?”
His silver eyes search me for a second. The tone of my voice has been noted.
“You’re thinking of your own parents, aren’t you?”
I nod.
“I’d like to know who they are. Well, my mother mainly. I know my father was called Maxwell, and he was a Hawk, probably with old Dasher blood. But I know nothing about my mother, except that she was a Mind-Manipulator. I’d like to know her name, how she died. I’m not like you, Adryan. This is important to me.”
“I understand that,” he says. “Your world is different from mine. There are files that should list such things. Whether there will be anything linking your father and mother, however, is another matter. As I understand it, they began an illegal relationship that resulted in the births of yourself and Zander. I can only assume that they were both taken to the REEF as a result, Brie. I’m sorry if that’s upsetting…”
“No, it’s OK,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve had plenty of time to get used to it. And yeah, I know that’s probably what happened. But still, I’d like to know for sure. I’d like to know who my mother was.”
“I know you would. I don’t know how easy it will be, but I will try to see if I can find out for you.”
My face begins to glow.
“I wasn’t asking…” I begin.
It’s true. I was just talking, sharing. I didn’t expect this.
“You don’t have to. You’re doing plenty already. I don’t want you distracted by finding out about your parents. Look, I’ll see if I c
an dig anything up. But I’d caution against getting your hopes up, Brie. I’ll do what I can, but not at the risk of attracting any attention, and not to the detriment of the mission.”
I smile, despite his words that are aimed to douse my hope.
“Thanks, Adryan. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“No, Brie. It’s you who we all need to thank. The rest of us…well, we’ve been in this game a while now. For you to come straight in and be asked to do so much. It’s not fair on you. So, if I can help, I will. I always will.”
I don’t know what it is. His words. The wine. The look in his eyes, staring at me and refusing to leave. Probably a mixture of it all, some alluring potion.
But whatever it is, it draws me forwards. I stand from my sofa and move over to his. He watches me with some interest as I come, laying my wine glass on the coffee table and sitting beside him.
I lean forward, and kiss him on the cheek. It all happens fast, without any thought process to guide me. It’s nothing, really, but it leaves a little flutter in my heart as my pink, wine-stained lips touch to his pale skin, cleanly shaven but with a hint of stubble accumulated over the course of the day.
And then I’m back again. Back on my sofa. Back with my glass of wine in hand. Sitting across from him as if nothing happened.
And really, nothing did happen. Just a peck on the cheek to say thanks. Thanks for helping me, for being so kind. Thanks for this evening, the food and wine and relaxed atmosphere that I could never have expected here, on this side of the wall.
But even though nothing really happened, it felt like something did. And I see it in his eyes too. A little light, shining in the far distance, like a campfire flashing on a frozen horizon.
He smiles, and so do I.
And sipping our wine together, our conversation resumes.
9
Time flies in that well-ordered apartment. A place of straight lines and sharp edges and such a bare splash of colour, provided by Adryan for my personal relief.
We speak for a while longer, learning more about each other. And despite the fact that it’s me who needs to know more about him, he still appears interested in my own past, asking questions and studying my answers, a habit that he’s clearly developed working for the Institute of Human Relations.
As the evening grows late, however, my mind turns inexorably towards my mission. As of yet, so few details have been given to me regarding exactly how I’m supposed to carry it out.
First off, I want to know how I’m going to get myself face to face with Director Cromwell himself. As far as I know it, he more or less keeps to the top of the High Tower, along with the rest of the Consortium, ruling from up on his high perch.
“He does,” Adryan tells me. “On occasion he may descend a little lower, as you saw during the ceremony. However, for the most part, none of the Consortium leave the summit of the High Tower.”
“Right, so how will I get up there?”
“As yet, I can’t be certain. That’s something we’re going to have to figure out together, only once we’re married and living there.”
I roll my eyes. I’d hoped that he’d have some definitive answer. That, perhaps, he’d know of Cromwell’s schedule, and would be able to initiate a situation where I’d be able to find him alone. Not so.
However, I make sure to not let the minor setback derail me. One step at a time, Brie, one step at a time…
“And, where in the High Tower will we live once we’re married?”
I no longer cringe at the word ‘marriage’, or the thought of living with Adryan. This evening has laid to rest some, if not all, of my reservations. And, well, my promise to Zander isn’t going anywhere. There’s no space inside me now for doubts.
“The residential quarters are generally situated between the 50th and 90th floors,” he says. “The lower floors are utilised for working purposes, while anything above floor 90 is reserved for high ranking city officials. The Consortium live and operate in the penthouse. I have heard their quarters are quite staggering, with the top floor split into 12 distinct residences around the edge of the building, with the central space used for meetings and operations.”
“So, the lowest our quarters can be will be floor 50?” I ask. “Where do you live now?”
“Currently I reside on the 71st floor. And yes, we will most likely be provided with quarters on floor 50 or thereabouts.”
Of course. The lowest possible rung, given who I am.
Or who they think I am, at least.
“And where do you work?”
“The Institute of Human Relations is on the 42nd floor.”
“And, what about the Savants who live outside of the High Tower? Do they work inside it?”
“For the most part, yes. The majority of Savants live in the High Tower and work there too. It used to be that all Savants lived in the High Tower, but our expanding numbers have forced others to live just beyond it.”
“So I’m going to be allowed to live there, and yet there are other Savants who can’t? That seems odd.”
“Well, as I told you, it’s only because you’ll be marrying me. The work I’ve done for the IHR has afforded me the privilege of staying in the High Tower.”
“It’s ironic really isn’t it,” I say.
He frowns lightly.
“How so?”
“Well, the work you’re talking about, I assume, is that which has served Director Cromwell and the Consortium well. You know, helping them determine how to treat the Unenhanced, suppressing emotions and all that.”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s been valuable for them.”
“And there’s the irony. You’ve kind of helped them determine this path, and now you’re trying to stop it. And the fact that you’ve contributed is the very reason that you’re able to live in the High Tower after marrying me, which is the only way I’d actually be able to carry out my mission. Surely you see the irony there?”
A smile gradually dawns on his lips, and he begins to nod.
“Yes, you’re right. I do see it. I never thought about it like that.”
“I guess they’re not as smart as they think they are. But anyway, back to my mission. So, let’s say we’re living on the 50th floor. How will I access the floors above me?”
“With difficulty,” comes Adryan’s swift response. “The different levels are accessible to specific individuals. The High Tower runs on order, and no one is permitted to step beyond the boundaries of the limits they’ve been assigned.”
“So, what do you mean? You can only access certain floors depending on where you live and what you do?”
“Yes, exactly. I, for example, am permitted to go no higher than the 71st floor as it currently stands. The lifts in the building operate via thumbprint and hand-scans. The same as on the lock to this very apartment. When you enter a lift, you press your thumb to the scanner. It then reads your print and scans the structure of your hand. Then, your specific access will be granted, and you’ll be able to go no higher than the limits to what you’ve been assigned.”
“Right, so for me, I’ll get access to, say, the 50th floor? How exactly will I go higher?”
“Well, that’s exactly why it’s only you who can do the job, Brie. When you fully develop your powers, you’ll be able to manipulate others to give you access to where you need to go. You are entirely unique. No one else could possibly do this.”
A flash of nerves vibrate through me, setting my pulse sprinting for a few beats. So far, I’ve had such sparse training for my mental abilities, and my progress has been far from speedy.
“Is there a time limit to all of this?” I ask tentatively. “I get the impression that things need to move quickly.”
“They are moving quickly. You’ve seen it down on the streets. The Fanatics’ attacks, the proliferation of the Con-Cops and City Guard. Cromwell is making his move, and he’s speeding things along much faster than before. Once that ball gets rolling, it may be impossib
le to stop.”
“So you’re saying I need to develop my powers quickly then. And our marriage too, that needs to happen fast, right?”
“Oh, it will,” he says, nodding. “As I told you before, I can expedite all of that. It’s not uncommon for the courting process to last for only a few dates before marriages can be applied for.”
“Applied for? You have to apply?”
“Yes, hence your need to find out about me and my life. Only after you have completed the test and confirmed your commitment to marrying up will you be granted approval from the Council of Matrimony.”
“Well, I feel I’m getting to know you quite well now.”
He smiles.
“Good. However, your natural inclination is to doubt Inner Haven and this world of ours. You have a suspicious mind, Brie, and the Council of Matrimony don’t exactly like that sort of thinking. It isn’t conducive to integrating yourself here, so you’ll have to do better to convince them that you actually want to join us.”
“So how do they do that? Do they read minds again?”
“They will do if they think you’re lying to them. If that’s the case, your powers will be even more important. You may need to manipulate their own cognition, and get them to sign you off.”
A sigh escapes me.
“Looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He nods.
“You certainly do. Tonight has been fruitful, I think. I’m sure your brother will want to speed your training now, however.”
“It has been…fruitful,” I say with a coy smile. “I’ve enjoyed it.”
“I’m glad.” He returns the look, before turning his eyes to the simple clock on the wall. “You look tired, though. You should get home, get some rest.”
He’s noticed the heaviness of my eyes. They feel like they’re drawing together now, the power of fatigue – quite possibly intensified by the wine – starting to take me down.
Yet the mention of home has an effect I don’t expect. It doesn’t draw in a good feeling at all. Not like it once might have done.