Wei and Mo Chen sat behind the other technicians, just watching and listening. The initial phase was mainly given over to calibration, and the words Wei overhead were of a routine nature. He remembered the nausea that had beset him at that stage well.
One of the men was bent double, his hands scrabbling against the floor. “He’ll have to come out,” the relevant technician advised Mo Chen. “He’s vomited in his helmet.”
“Send in a cleaner,” Mo Chen said. “What’s the recruit’s name?”
“It’s Tian Yi, sir. Bringing him out now.”
Wei watched as Tian Yi struggled to remove his helmet. It was virtually impossible to do by oneself, especially with a helmet full of sick. Watching him fumbling around made Wei feel ill himself.
“Poor bastard,” Mo Chen said, without seeming overly concerned. Now a technician was helping Tian Yi with the helmet while a cleaner mopped the floor.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Wei said. He didn’t wait for permission.
Tian Yi was in room six. The smell made Wei gag as he entered, but he sat down next to the recruit all the same. He was drinking from a bottle of water. There were flecks of vomit on his face.
“That first part’s horrible,” Wei said. “I know what it’s like. But it’s okay once they sort out the calibration.”
Tian Yi’s face was white. “I feel awful,” he said.
“Maybe you can try again later. They shouldn’t have given you lunch.”
Tian Yi wiped his face with a hand-towel. The colour was starting to return to his face. “I thought I was coming here to work in the reactor,” he said. “Not this.”
“I know,” Wei said. “I thought the same.”
Tian Yi was shunted out of the room and the technician who’d helped him told Wei to go back to the control room so they could finish cleaning up.
“Hope he doesn’t do that again,” Mo Chen said when Wei sat back down in his seat.
“Then don’t give them lunch beforehand.”
Mo Chen nodded. “Point taken.”
The other six recruits had progressed through the calibration stage and were now taking their first genuine steps in CWS. Some were doing better than others. One of them was out of the start room and in the corridor already.
“What about the disconnect code?” Wei asked Mo Chen. “It’s a trick, correct?”
“Not a trick, a security blanket,” Mo Chen replied. “They need to believe they’re in control of what’s happening to them. Otherwise they’ll panic like Jun Shan did.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
Mo Chen shrugged. “You’re level two now.”
It was over surprisingly quickly. Recalling his own initiation, Wei saw that they’d altered things a little this time around. The illusory meal had been replaced with a conversation with an attractive woman who shook their hands and gave them a kiss on the cheek. She did not exist in the real world. “They’re not hungry now,” Mo Chen explained. “This illustrates the point just as well.”
Then the recruits were out, having uttered the disconnect code. “I’d prefer you not to mention that to them just yet,” Mo Chen said. “They need the confidence. All right?” It was an order, not a request.
“Yes sir,” Wei said.
“Good. Your job is to debrief them. They need someone they can trust, and right now that’s you.”
Wei did as he was told. At least he hadn’t had to go into CWS himself today. The debriefing occurred in a small conference room with comfy chairs. He even put on a cheery face for them.
“Well done, recruits,” he said. “Even you, Tian Yi. You’ll get another chance later this afternoon. So you’ve all had your first glimpse of what Controlled Waking State is about. That’s great. Don’t forget the disconnect code.” He couldn’t believe he was able to say that. “Now, are there any questions?”
“I’ve got a question,” Cao Ren said, his round face red from exertion.
“Yes, Cao Ren?”
“How the fuck do I get out of this place?” he said. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
Wei stared at him. The other men were silent, waiting to hear what he’d say in response. “Ah, that’s a good question,” he faltered. “The fact is, I’m not entirely sure. I suggest you make an appointment to see Yang Po to outline your grievance.”
The recruits weren’t pleased with this, but they said no more. Wei could feel the enmity directed at him. He was relieved to find himself called into Yang Po’s office shortly after they returned to the dorm.
“It’s only natural for them to despise you,” Yang Po said. He’d been listening to the debriefing by way of a hidden speaker; it seemed the whole facility was being monitored.
“I know,” Wei said, but he felt badly nonetheless.
“I won’t tolerate insubordination here,” Yang Po continued. “The troublemaker will be removed.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Wei said.
“Too late,” Yang Po said. “It will serve as an example to the others. You just need a little more confidence in dealing with your inferiors, Jiang Wei. But this will come in time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As a reward for your good service, you are being granted special permission to visit your fiancée in CDS, in order to tell her about your promotion.”
“Thank you, sir. When will that be?”
“Right now. She has been informed of the impending liaison.” Yang Po offered his hand for Wei to shake. He took the moist palm in his own and shook it.
24. In a Glass Cube
Rion had patience; she’d give him that. Sylvia herself had none. It didn’t seem to bother him that they’d been waiting for their number to be called for more than forty minutes now. Nor did he seem to take umbrage at how the officials had spoken to him. (“What is the nature of your enquiry? Is it of an urgent nature? If not, then I’d advise you to return at another time.”) He sat very still, but his eyes darted from one thing to another, absorbing the council chamber like a sponge. This, she realised, demonstrated the difference between them, as her own eyes saw nothing of interest while her body fidgeted incessantly. If only she could see through his eyes, then perhaps she would be able to understand his motivations. As it stood, Sylvia Baron saw nothing.
The number ‘45’ flashed up on the screen above the glass-walled interview booths.
“We’re next,” Rion said. He held the printed ticket stub tightly in his grasp.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Sylvia asked.
“Not if you don’t want to,” he replied. “But I thought…”
“Of course I’ll come,” she said. “I just want to know what you plan to say first.”
“I’ll tell them what I told you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sylvia said.
“What’s the matter? I’m sure they’ll want to know about Gillam and Misanthropos. Won’t they?”
“Yes, they will. But I expect they’ll detain you.”
“Why?”
“You’re not a citizen, so you don’t have any rights here,” she explained.
“But I haven’t done anything,” Rion said.
‘46.’
They made their way over to the now-vacant booth. The glass wall slid back as they approached. Once they had stepped over the threshold, it promptly slid shut behind them.
“Please sit down,” a disembodied voice said. It seemed to come from all around. There was nothing else in the glass cube except for a place for them to sit.
“What is the nature of your enquiry?” the voice said. It was not clear to Sylvia whether the voice was human.
When Rion cleared his throat to speak, he was instantly cut off. “Speak, citizen,” the voice boomed. “The outsider will not be permitted to speak at this time.”
“Who am I talking to?” Sylvia asked. “Your identification please.”
A brief pause. “Jasmine Middleton, employee reference number e4015019.”
“Thank you. My name is Sylvia Baron. Do you want my employee number?”
“It has been pre-entered. Please state the nature of your enquiry.”
“It’s not an enquiry,” Sylvia said. “I’ve brought this man, Rion…” Here she broke off and turned to Rion. “What’s your last name?”
“I…I don’t have one,” he replied, frowning.
“He has no last name,” Sylvia said. “He’s come from the town of East Hills to convey vital information to this council.”
“What is the nature of this vital information?”
“It is a matter of national security,” Sylvia heard herself say. “The survival of Yellowcake Springs itself is at stake.”
“Briefly outline the nature of the threat.”
“All right.” Sylvia swallowed, her throat dry. “I’m not sure I can. Rion can explain it better.”
“Yes,” Jasmine Middleton said. “What is your name, outsider?”
“It’s Rion,” he said. “R-I-O-N. It’s short for Orion.”
“Very well, Rion.”
“I’ll tell you what I know for sure,” he said. “Last Wednesday, I witnessed a militia group headed by a man called Keith Gillam staging an attack on a goods train in the town of East Hills.”
“East Hills is not within the CIQ Sinocorp Protectorate?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then it is of no interest. How does this matter relate to Yellowcake Springs and CIQ Sinocorp?”
“This militia group intends to attack your town,” Rion said. “I heard Gillam say so.”
“East Hills is located in the restricted zone, more than one hundred kilometres southeast of Yellowcake Springs. Even if a militia group were to evade the checkpoints and patrols put in place by the Western Australian Government, which seems unlikely, then they would have little hope of reaching our border unprotected, and zero chance of penetrating our defensive perimeter. I say again, how does this matter constitute a matter of national security for the CIQ Sinocorp Protectorate?”
“Tell them about Misanthropos,” Sylvia whispered.
“What was that, Citizen Baron? Repeat what you just said.”
“I was asking Rion to mention Misanthropos.”
“The citizen will briefly describe the nature of this ‘Misanthropos’.”
“I know very little about it,” Sylvia said. But out came the precious words: “Misanthropos plans to attack Yellowcake Springs.”
“How is this information known to you?”
“A man called Chris Roland told me, and Rion has corroborated this information. The militia group Rion described is linked to Misanthropos.”
“In what way specifically?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps Rion can explain?”
“The outsider will explain.”
“I don’t know the details as I’m not part of Gillam’s militia,” Rion said. “That’s why I left East Hills, to warn you. All is know is that they plan to attack the town, and specifically the reactor complex.”
“One moment, please,” the harsh voice said. There was a pause. “New information has just come to hand. I have been authorised by the Western Australian Government to inform you that the militia group herein described has been liquidated, and that the criminal Keith Gillam has been killed. The matter is hereby concluded.”
“Gillam’s dead?” Rion asked.
“Yes. The currently available information appears to corroborate your deposition. Further information not yet available may confirm or deny the validity of this deposition. You will be released at this time into the care of Citizen Baron, but you must not leave Yellowcake Springs until a subsequent interview has been conducted. This interview has been scheduled for this Thursday, the 30th of May, at 9.00am. You are to present yourself at this council chamber at the stated time, whereupon a full account will be taken. Henceforth, you will be released from Yellowcake Springs to proceed to a location of your own choosing.”
“But his pass expires today,” Sylvia said.
“The pass in question has been extended by forty-eight hours. It is now valid until 5.00pm on Thursday May 30.”
“And why does he have to stay with me? I have a husband.”
“If the arrangement is not satisfactory, then the subject can be held in protective custody until the time of his interview. Is this preferred?”
There it was – a clear choice at last. She could walk away from this now and forget it ever happened. Here she made a mistake – or was it a mistake? – for she allowed herself a glance at Rion, who sat motionless on the hard seat without making eye contact with her. He did not plead, and yet his body was frozen rigid with terror.
“That will not be necessary,” she said. “I will accommodate him.” Rion’s chest deflated; he had obviously been holding his breath.
“Very well,” Jasmine Middleton said. “I will advise you, however, that it is of the utmost importance that Rion return to this location for his interview at the specified time. Failure to do so will result in censure for yourself and your husband. Is this understood?”
She looked at Rion. “It is.”
“Then this interview is concluded.” The glass cube released them.
“Why didn’t you tell them more?” Sylvia demanded as they made their way out of the council chamber and onto the street.
“I don’t know anymore,” Rion replied.
“I don’t know why I’m bothering with this,” she said, leading the way down the stairs to the bus station. They boarded the waiting bus and sat near the back.
“Thank you,” Rion said. “I thought you were going to leave me there.”
“So did I,” she said. “It’s only two days. You won’t try to leave, will you?”
“No, I need to find out how to become a citizen. I want to stay here permanently.”
“I know,” she said. “But they won’t let you. You’ll be gone from my life in a little over two days.” Then, seeing his dejected expression, she added, “come on, we’ll stop in town and get something to eat. You might as well make the most of it while you’re here.” She pressed the button for the bus to stop.
Sylvia had intended on taking him somewhere different, but she soon found herself at the Pegasus, as per usual. It was a little after eleven. Her work colleagues would probably be here in an hour, but they’d be gone by then. “What can I get you?” she asked, passing him the menu. “You are hungry, right?”
“Yes.”
Her flip-top began to ring, as it always seemed to do when she was trying to order. She turned the visual off and took the call at the table. “Hello?”
“Sylvia,” her husband’s familiar voice said. “Why can’t I see you?”
“Uh, too many people around.”
“Listen, I’m outside. Do you understand?”
“Outside town? Have they expelled you?”
“Look, I need you to leave town. I’m serious.”
“Why?”
“I can’t say. It’s too dangerous. Go stay with your parents. Just…get away. Say you’ll go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. There was a rage forming inside her. “Why should I listen to you when you won’t even tell me what’s going on? It’s like we’re not even married anymore. Are you having an affair?”
“No, it’s nothing as trivial as that.”
“Trivial? Our marriage is trivial to you?” She was shouting now, and she didn’t care who could hear, least of all Rion. “How can you say that to me? You don’t come home, you won’t tell me where you are, you want me to leave and our marriage is trivial to you? You can get fucked, David.” People were looking now, forever eager for an opportunity to pry into the sordid details of someone else’s personal life.
“Look, I haven’t got time for this. I really don’t.” He seemed distant and drifting further away by the second. “I have to go.”
“Go then,” Sylvia said.
She snapped the phone shut, terminating the call. “Have you worked out
what you want yet?” she asked Rion.
25. Interloper
In terms of appearances, Rion had made it his business to remain composed, but inside, all was tumultuous. Oppressed from above and below, he didn’t know where to turn or who to turn to, so he clung to Sylvia like a dying man to the idea of heaven. If she was aware of his distress she gave no sign. In fact, she seemed wholly preoccupied with her own troubles.
“What should I do, Rion?” she asked him late on Tuesday evening, in the lounge room of her apartment. They were drinking white wine. “I can’t stay and I can’t go.”
“I feel the same,” he said, taking another sip. He felt giddy, unused to the alcohol.
She turned toward him. “They’ll just deport you, like I said. There’s no need to worry.” She took his hand.
“That’s easy for you to say, Sylvia,” he said. But he didn’t let go.
“If only I knew where David was…I’d….”
“What would you do?”
“I’d leave this place forever,” she said.
“Where would you go?”
“I could go with you. You could show me your home town.”
This caused his anger to rise, but he suppressed it. He needed to be very careful now. “Didn’t you hear what they said? Gillam’s dead. And besides, you wouldn’t like East Hills. There’s nothing there.”
“What do I have?” Sylvia asked. She lounged back on the soft seat, her legs open suggestively. So that was what she wanted. Rion put the wine glass down on the coffee table and went to work.
When he woke, it wasn’t immediately obvious to Rion where he was. The room was dark but his body was warm, the blankets around him soft. He was naked and there was a similarly naked woman in the bed with him. He was content and apparently safe. What could be wrong?
Memories began to pervade his consciousness, and although he fought their return, it wasn’t long before they had destroyed his brief moment of solace. It was night-time – 3.37 according to the clock – and the woman was Sylvia Baron. This was her bed and her house, and he himself was the interloper.
It was necessary to leave the warmth and comfort, to return to the cold and uncertainty. This did not seem to be a desirable option, so Rion lingered. He put his hand on Sylvia’s back and rubbed downward toward the curve of her buttock. She murmured in her sleep but did not wake. Then Rion experienced an overwhelming sense of desolation. In his mind’s eye he saw ruin – he saw a great fire and a vast column of smoke.
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