Darwin himself was repelled by the idea of punctuated equilibrium in evolution. Given he developed his theories during times of social turmoil in England, with the risk of uprisings threatening his extended family’s wealth, he was perhaps drawn to slow and gradual evolutionary change, rather than dramatic and violent transitions.
In modern times, explanations for biological cooperation are less infused by political ideology, and are based in evolutionary ecology and mathematical models of cost and benefit to the participants. Nevertheless, while the mechanisms of interspecies competition for resources have been studied in depth, those regulating cooperative behaviour between species have received far less attention, and the dynamics of mutualistic interaction are subject to continuing debate.
Zinn, Charlie, ‘Symbioses’, In: JF Thompson and C Loh, eds, Evolution and Ecology, 2nd ed, Fitzroy University Press, Sydney, 2012
34.
The Cairns hinterland, Republic of Capricornia
‘That wretched boy. He’s gone offline again.’
Tricia now knew Marion well enough to know she was talking about her son. He might be a senior member of the government, the Minister for Health indeed, but as far as Marion was concerned Seth Effenberg was still just a boy, and today he was a ‘wretched’ one.
She was standing in the doorway between their rooms. ‘Really, I don’t know where he gets to, Tricia.’
Tricia tutted in sympathy.
‘Go and find him, will you? Start with his suite – he might be there, and just asleep or something. And if he’s not, see if he’s been seen out in the gardens. The guards might be able to help.’
Seth’s suite was in the wing on the other side of the building, far from the Daughters, and steeped in masculine decor. The door to his rooms was closed. Tricia paused. She was reluctant to do Marion’s bidding, chasing up her son as though he was a child. But it was Marion’s wish and she could hardly refuse. She’d seen Marion talk tersely to underlings. Only this morning, she’d sent her tea back to the kitchen because a few errant tea leaves were floating on the surface. Marion’s anger wasn’t expressed with a raised voice. It was the opposite. It became cold and clipped and was all the more daunting as a result.
She knocked gently. No response. She knocked again, more loudly this time. When there was still no answer, she opened the door. ‘Hello?’ she called. She entered, walked through the anteroom, and checked the office, living area and bedroom. There was no sign of him. She couldn’t resist looking around. A double bed. Some posters on the wall, Christian bands and a couple of motivational biblical quotes. A bookshelf that was largely empty of books. It felt like the room of a teenager, not a grown man.
As she turned to leave, something on his unmade bed caught her eye.
It was his vocomm. He hadn’t simply turned it off. He had left it behind entirely. She picked it up. It was on, but sleeping. To go out without wearing it was a serious breach of protocol. Even when it was off, it was transmitting data to the CSSA. She’d heard the rumours of the detail they could garner, but since getting her job had realised it was far more extensive than she’d imagined. They recorded the exact location of every citizen who wore them, and that was pretty much everyone, at least in the cities. This was generally described as a security measure, but everyone knew it was for surveillance. Surveillance was what kept them secure, so Tricia understood the reasoning. And naturally it made the Interventions so much easier.
She was still holding it when Seth walked into the room. She saw his eyes move from hers, down to her hand, and then back again.
‘Your mother sent me,’ blurted Tricia, feeling like a thief.
‘Oh, shit,’ said Seth and she flinched at the language. ‘Of course she did. And she’s pissed off, right?’
‘She’s not too happy, no.’
Seth strode to his bed and flopped onto it, then rolled over to face the ceiling. ‘I just need to get away sometimes, you know? Things here get so full on.’ She sensed the tension behind his words. He seemed stressed, ready to snap.
‘But you’re not meant to leave it behind.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’m a stupid idiot,’ he groaned. He seemed so terribly young, just a kid worried about getting into strife with his mum. He looked up at her. ‘It’s not like I’m trying to hide anything, I just – don’t you ever want to be alone? Really alone?’
She didn’t. Being really alone was something she’d had altogether too much of, but she wasn’t a young man, bucking against his parents’ strictures.
‘Can you not tell her?’ he asked. She almost gasped at his audacity. He hurried on. ‘I know you’re close to her and everything, but she’s got enough on her plate without worrying about me.’
‘What do you expect me to say to her?’ asked Tricia. The thought of deceiving the Mother was inconceivable.
‘Just tell her you found me here, asleep? What harm could it do?’
‘I can’t. I can’t lie to her.’
‘She’ll never know it’s not true. No one saw me. The only people who know are you and me … Please, Tricia?’
He was almost begging her, his eyes pleading for her mercy. He must genuinely fear Marion’s wrath. She could understand that. A simple thing, and it would give him such succour. ‘Very well,’ she said.
Seth sat up. ‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘But you must promise me you won’t leave it behind again.’
‘I won’t, I promise. You are so good. Thank you, seriously, thank you.’
She smiled and handed him his vocomm. ‘Our little secret,’ she said, enjoying the warmth of his gratitude.
She returned to the corridor, hoping she hadn’t made a dreadful mistake. He’d promised to be more conscientious, but she should watch him more closely in future. If there was a next time, she’d feel responsible. She would be responsible.
Walking back to the Daughters’ wing, she slowed as she passed the open door to Effenberg’s suite and couldn’t resist peeking inside. To her embarrassment, he was sitting there, on the lounge, reading his tablet. Chastened, she continued on her way, but he’d seen her.
‘Tricia?’ his voice called.
She returned to the doorway, preparing her explanation as to why she was there, rehearsing her lie for Marion.
‘Hello, sir.’
He’d stood and was beaming at her. ‘My wife tells me that you’ve been doing excellent work with the Interventions.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m doing my best.’
‘God bless you, Daughter of Light.’
Cairns, Republic of Capricornia
Brigid hadn’t been able to find a parking spot near her flat, so had to walk three blocks back home. It suited her because it took her past her favourite takeaway restaurant, the Thanh Binh in Chronicles Street. She’d developed a powerful hankering for pho, and the Thanh Binh did the best shiitake pho this side of Hanoi. Not that she’d ever been to Vietnam, but she’d still put money on it. Vinh, the owner, joked with her that he assumed she was still in the same food rut. ‘Always,’ she told him, laughing. She wondered that he stayed in Capricornia. Vietnam, these days, was considered the jewel of South-East Asia, having embraced the more positive changes Toxo had wrought. But Vinh’s family were here, as evidenced by photos of his children and their children festooning the counter. A new grandson was the latest addition.
Takeaway bag in hand, she turned into her street, Solomon Avenue, more conscious than ever of the surveillance cameras on the corner. Her complicity with Shadrack, Turing, and now with Seth made her a target, even if the authorities didn’t know it yet. Her mind prodded the scheme she and Seth had conjured, trying to find its flaws. The risks were enormous. He might be a high-ranking politician and an Effenberg, but that was no guarantee of protection when the stakes were so extreme. He might get caught while assembling the evidence. He mightn’t be granted asylum, or find a safe opportunity to seek it, in which case she couldn’t use his material.
They’d agreed not to meet a
gain in person. He’d get the evidence to her, and once she had confirmation that he was secure in New Zealand, she’d make the broadcast from somewhere safe. It would be the end of her career in Capricornia, but she’d be able to work anywhere if it came off. Including Sydney, and, smiling, she thought of Juliette.
The attack was rapid and brutal. It began with someone coming up behind and kicking her knees out from under her. She fell backwards and strong arms caught her. She was heaved left into a laneway and flung onto the concrete ground. Winded, she gasped for breath as she saw a boot coming towards her face. She deflected it with an arm that caught the blow. Something cracked. There were two of them. No, three, and now they were all kicking her, kicking her legs, her head, her ribs, her groin. There was no air in her lungs for her to cry out, no sound to express the agony. She tried to shield her face and felt bones shift again in her arm.
She felt herself slipping backwards into an oblivion that tasted of blood, and there were more voices, screams and shouts. Phone the police! Ambulance! Oh my God! Leave her alone! Footsteps, running. Then nothing. An emptiness beyond black.
Sydney, Australia
When they received the news about Brigid, Charlie was fixing the car. It had been rear-ended. Again. This was the problem with Auto2s. They obeyed the road rules, but humans didn’t. Humans got impatient, lost concentration, braked too late, misjudged speeds and distances. It was the price you paid for being in the transition stage of a technology. Until human-driven cars were in the minority, you had to spend far too much time downloading specifications for car parts and loading them into your 3D printer before you could send your Auto2 back on the road. Well, except you didn’t really need to do it. You could get your house computer to sort out the whole process, but Charlie was still in love with the technology and coveted being hands-on, so wouldn’t hand the job over to Grandfather. She sat on a stool in the garage, watching the printer lay down layers of different polymers, gradually, soothingly sculpting the rear module of the car. Richard said it was silly not to leave the whole tedious business to the computer, to eschew one aspect of the technology while fetishising another. He didn’t, she thought, appreciate the almost organic beauty of the printer doing its thing. Still, it was ridiculous that they owned their own Auto2. Virtually no one did any longer. It was much easier and cheaper just to subscribe to the pool, but Richard insisted on keeping it because of its sentimental value. What he actually liked was the opportunity to tell people that he’d bought it as soon as it came onto the market. He took pride in being an early adopter.
Richard. They’d had another fight yesterday. Not about Shadrack, though – now that Richard had established himself as Ally to the Glorious Revolution, he no longer niggled her about her ex-husband and behaved beautifully in front of him. This time it was about her tidying up the papers he’d left on the kitchen counter, and he said she’d dumped them in his studio out of order. It escalated into a broader dispute about his messiness and her ‘anal-retentive tendencies’. Once again, sharp words exchanged, they’d fallen into their habit of chilly distance. Civilly talking things through was apparently beyond them, but neither had the constitution for raised voices or for throwing things. The pattern was set. Hours would pass, followed by a tentative joke from Richard, a half-smile in response from Charlie, then a mutual softening born of relief because neither was good at holding grudges. Ultimately, the make-up sex. It seemed to be the only sort of sex they had these days. It was good sex, passionate and mutually satisfying, which made her wonder if that was partly why they’d developed this pattern.
Shadrack’s presence was a constant reminder, too, of the flaws in her relationship. It was too easy to remember the good in their marriage and to compare. She felt an acute and constant awareness of where Shadrack was in the house, whether upstairs in the attic, writing, in the garden, playing with Goblin, or in the spare bedroom, sleeping in.
Now she and Richard were in the day-after stage of careful solicitude. A week would pass, and the whole thing would repeat. She was wearying of this waltz, which was another reason she was hunkered down there in the garage, listening to the soft zipping of the printer heads.
So when she heard his footsteps in the doorway she didn’t turn. She didn’t want to hear his gentle query as to whether she’d like a cup of tea, or what she’d like him to cook.
But that wasn’t why he was there, of course. He’d had the call, as next of kin. His skin was grey and his hands shook.
Brigid was in intensive care at Cairns Base Hospital. She had multiple broken bones, a fractured eye-socket, a ruptured spleen, and possible brain damage. She was in an induced coma to protect her brain from swelling. Her condition was stabilised but critical.
‘Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Is she going to be okay? She’s not going to die, is she?’ Charlie was reeling, her hand to her mouth.
‘I don’t know. No one knows. I’ve told you as much as they’ve told me.’
‘Do they know who did it? Have they caught him?’
‘The hospital didn’t say. They said the police will call me.’
‘We’ve got to get up there. Grandfather, we need plane tickets –’
‘– Hang on, Charlie, I can’t go to Capricornia.’
‘What?’
‘Think about it. My music is banned there. I’m a thete. They’d lock me up.’
‘Of course they wouldn’t: this is an emergency. We can get a special visa or something.’
‘I’m not risking it. No way. And I’ve got Bacchanalia coming up …’
She wanted to slap him. It was pure rage. ‘You are the most selfish man I’ve ever known.’
‘What?!’
‘It’s like with your mother all over again.’
‘My mother? What the fuck are you on about?’
‘Forget it. Just forget it,’ she said, turning her back on him and heading out of the garage. ‘Grandfather, a ticket for the first flight I can make to Cairns. One way. And can you sort out a visa, please?’
The moment she was outside, Charlie’s tears began. Fury and distress tied a heavy knot in her chest. She strode down the back garden, past the magnolia, to the stairs leading to the throne. As she sat down heavily on the stone seat, Grandfather spoke through her vocomm. ‘No flights available till morning. I can get you on the eight am. Is that okay?’
‘Yes, good.’
‘Your visa application’s been approved. Your status as vaccinated and uninfected is on record.’
It bloody ought to be, she thought, since she invented the vaccine.
She rang Juliette to tell her the news. She was dismayed and offered to come with Charlie to Capricornia.
‘I wish you could,’ said Charlie. ‘But I need you to cover for me at work. Can you do that?’
‘Yes, of course, I wasn’t thinking. We can’t both go. But Capricornia is a scary place. Being alone there … You have to keep in touch, yes? And give her my love.’
As Charlie ended the call, she heard Shadrack’s voice from the garden. ‘Charlie, are you down there?’
‘Yep.’
He came down the stone stairs. ‘Richard told me. Can I join you?’
He gestured at the spot next to her. She nodded.
‘So you’re going to Cairns?’
‘Someone has to. She’ll need help.’
‘Good for you. Take care up there, okay?’
She looked at him. His concern was real. ‘I’ll be fine, Shadrack. I’m not going to do anything silly like committing sedition and blasphemy. We’re not all revolutionaries.’
‘Still, keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.’
‘Do you think she was attacked because of her connection to you?’
‘Who knows, Charlie? Might be, might be because of something she’s investigating. It might be because she’s gay. It might be because she wasn’t wearing a purity mask …’
‘Should I get one? A purity mask?’
‘Not a bad idea. They’re not compulsory, but it mig
ht make things smoother. They have them at the airport.’
They sat in silence for a moment. A flock of rainbow lorikeets swept through the valley.
‘So, I bet you’re dying to know how the book’s coming along?’
She laughed. ‘How’s the book coming along, Shadrack?’
He grinned. ‘Effenberg’s not going to like it.’
They walked back to the house, Charlie fed Goblin his old-dog mush, and she and Shadrack made themselves sandwiches.
‘Shall I go and ask Richard if he wants some?’ asked Shadrack as he sliced tomatoes.
‘If I tell you “no”, will you promise not to ask why?’
He absorbed that. ‘So, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the paper you’ve just published on the synthesis of apicoplasts in pestis. I was having trouble following the genetics you talk about …’
She knew what he was doing. So she explained as they carried their plates out to the verandah, Goblin pottering behind.
‘Really, though, you should talk to my co-author.’
‘That’d be Juliette.’
‘That’d be Juliette.’ She knew he wouldn’t, though. It wasn’t about the apicoplasts, and despite herself she was responding more deeply than she intended.
When she finally went to pack and go to bed, Richard was still in the attic, painting. He apparently didn’t want to talk, and neither did she.
Cairns, Republic of Capricornia
As the plane descended for its arrival in Cairns, Charlie tried to remember how long it was since she had last been there. It had been for a parasitology conference, back when the city was still part of Queensland and she still lived in Victoria, which made it at least twenty years ago. Cairns had been a regional city then, with a population of around a hundred thousand, but now, as the capital of the Republic, it was home to well over a million. From her window seat, she looked out as the plane banked sharply right to approach the city from the north and saw the tentacles of suburbs spreading along ridges into the diminishing tropical rainforest. She prepared herself for many such changes, few of them good. She was glad her side of the plane didn’t give too clear a view of the mining and dredging of the Great Barrier Reef. She wasn’t in the mood to witness the visual evidence of why it had been removed from the World Heritage register.
The Second Cure Page 29