“Scouting trips for antique trades or heists?” asked Varya with a playful smile.
“Do you care?” Marisa looked up from the screen with an expression that told Varya that she certainly didn’t.
Varya shrugged. “Not really. Not while she’s solvent and feeling generous. There are bigger problems in this world than holding people to account for stealing overpriced paint on canvas.” She opened her laptop again and started to type. “So, she’s going to use it for sleep?”
“Yep. She wants twenty four-hour tabs.”
Varya nodded. “Okay, that’s fine. Next?” She looked up. “And I don’t need the back story for all of them, we’ll be here all night. Just purpose and batch details will do.”
“Fine, have it your way. But you’re missing out on some juicy gossip, my friend.”
“I’ll live.”
“Kid’s about to flunk out of law school. Heading into the final semester. Wants one hundred four-hour time tabs so he can study without it impacting on his social life.” Marisa paused and looked up at Varya gleefully, awaiting her reaction.
Varya had stopped typing and was sitting, tapping the edge of her keyboard thoughtfully. She started typing again and muttered, “I take it the parents are footing the bill, otherwise he’d just pay someone else to do the work?”
“Bingo!” shouted Marisa, pumping both of her arms into the air. “It’s like you were at the meeting yourself. I don’t know why you even bother to employ me.”
Varya looked up and frowned at her, then continued typing.
“He can have fifty four-hour slips. Tell him if he can prove his grades have improved through his own efforts, I’ll make him another twenty for free.”
Varya looked up questioningly when Marisa didn’t start on the next order. She sat there, arms crossed, grinning.
“You don’t care about heists but you’re happy to rip cheating law students a new one. You sound like my fucking mother.”
“Your mother was clearly an intelligent person who valued hard work. Next on the list.” Varya looked up again, questioningly, when Marisa stayed silent. She frowned, tracking back over what she’d just said, as she took in Marisa’s folded arms and unimpressed glare.
“My mother’s still alive, you know,” said Marisa.
Varya sat back in her chair. “I’m sorry, I just assumed…”
Marisa shrugged. “It’s okay. We’re not close.” It clearly wasn’t okay. “I’m forty-seven, it’s a reasonable assumption that my mother’s headed off into her Rest Time. But she hasn’t. She was only fifteen when I was born.”
Varya did some quick calculations. “Still a few years left, then.”
Marisa nodded. “Yeah. Only a few, though.”
They both sat in silence. Varya wondered whether it was a comfort or a grief brought forward, to know the exact moment when your mother would die.
“Okay, so, next on the list… Aaaw, you’re gonna want to know the back story for this one. It’s hilarious.”
Varya smiled tiredly. “Alright then, let’s have it.”
Chapter five
“Hey.”
Varya ignored the low, soft voice next to her, just as she ignored most things while she immersed herself in her daily work at the lab. She pushed a sample several millimetres to the left and adjusted the zoom of the microscope.
“Name’s Connor.”
A sheath of printed paper dropped down on the bench in front of her with a dull thud. Varya looked up, startled. Was he talking to her? She looked from side to side to check, but the bench was empty for several arms’ lengths on either side. People didn’t speak to her, as a rule. Most staff were long-term hires and knew better than to even try. She glanced at the stack of prints, then up at the intruder. She squinted at him for a moment before silently bending her head back over the microscope.
He didn’t leave.
Varya kept one eye firmly on the barrel of the microscope and snuck a glimpse at this man with the other. Dark blue denim jeans and worn work boots protruded from the too-short lab coat. He shifted his feet so they both firmly faced toward her. Varya sighed. She raised her head to inspect his face and experienced a slight jolt of recognition. Those eyes. Clear blue, electric white streaks, seemingly shrunken irises. She zoomed her focus out and swept his body. He seemed slightly embarrassed now, his cheeks had flushed a soft pink. She relaxed as she realised that the rest of his person was foreign to her.
“Varya,” she said, with a quick nod, before bowing back to her microscope.
Connor sucked in his breath. “O-kay, then. Nice talking with you, Varya.” He picked up his pile of prints and walked on. She looked up sharply as she heard the same dull thud, this time at the work bench several feet to her right. He was looking directly at her, and grinned. She raised her eyes upwards briefly, then closed them, shook her head, and went back to work.
“Don’t mind her, she’s very friendly, really,” she heard Jolene say in a stage whisper. “Just don’t interrupt her while she’s working. She gets a little cranky.”
“Duly noted.”
Varya rubbed her eyes. She looked over at Jolene, who had placed her hand lightly on the newcomer’s arm and was now moving to place her other hand on his back and wished her all the best. Varya found it hard to imagine herself worrying about small, mundane things like flirting.
Her back hurt from having sat at the chair for three hours already. Maybe a small break would be a good idea. The sample cells on her strip all started to blur together after a while. Why did it have to take so long? Why couldn’t finding a cure be like it was in the movies, when an antidote to a viral pandemic could be developed in just two days, before the heroine had to suffer the pain of losing the newfound love of her life? Instead, this curing process took months of painstaking trial and error, scanning and logging samples, analysis, running it through machines, waiting for growth and mutation. Then failing and beginning right back at square one. Hours and days and weeks and months and years. So much time, so little progress. But they would find the cure. As long as the money kept coming in, as long as the funding was there.
“Varya.”
This time Varya turned instantly to the sound of her name and saw Professor Langford standing beside her. Her long, grey hair was swept back in a low, loose bun. Her usually still and precise hands fidgeted.
Varya frowned. “Professor?”
“We need to talk.”
Varya flinched inwardly and shook her head slightly.
“Not...”
“About the test results. It can’t wait. Please come through to my office now.”
Varya frowned but nodded and stood. Langford led the way out of the lab, down a corridor and, giving the empty hall a final sweeping glance, into her spacious office at the end. Varya entered and waited for Langford to close the door.
“This had better be important,” Varya hissed. “I’ve told you, we can’t be seen to be working together.”
“We do work together,” Langford retorted. “And in that context, I’m your superior. So, sit.”
Varya, temporarily deflated, sat on the chair, and waited. It had been a long day, a long week. The years passed so quickly, but the days went on forever. And she was tired, always so tired.
“I’m sorry, Janet, it’s just... hard. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”
Langford nodded.
“What is it? Have you... found something?” Varya dared to hope for a moment.
“No, I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Varya slouched in her chair further and scratched the side of her nose. She looked away, trying to compose what she knew was a disappointed frown on her face. Langford reached her hand out to Varya across the desk.
“I’m trying, Varya. But this isn’t my field of expertise. I really think it’s time to bring in somebody new.”
“But I trust you, Janet. This isn’t something I can just ask anybody to help me with. I’d end up hauled before the Courts faster than I co
uld say ‘fourth dimension’.” She leaned in and took Langford’s hand. “You can do it; I know you can. I’ve seen your work on neurological preservation and reversals. You just need more... time.”
Langford smiled wryly. “Ah, time.” She withdrew her hand and sat back. “That’s what I need to talk to you about. My time is running out. I don’t like to think about it, or talk about it, but I’ve only got a few hours left. Today is my last day.”
“You’re leaving?” Varya was alarmed. The Minor Miracles Foundation had been Janet Langford’s whole life since it had opened. She’d arrived even before Varya most days. Staff speculated that Langford slept in her office. Varya knew she didn’t. Janet may have arrived before her each morning, but it was Varya who turned out the lights of the facility most nights—when she wasn’t looking after Daniel.
Janet’s brow furrowed now in a way that made Varya want to fidget, too.
“Varya, child, how old do you think I am?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“It’s my birthday today. I’m sixty-five years old. My time on this earth is almost up.”
“No.” Varya let out a small moan before she clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Hush now. There are ears everywhere,” said Janet sharply. Then, in calm, raised tones, she recited, “I am grateful for the time I’ve had. I wouldn’t want to covet that which others don’t have either. Sixty-five years is long enough to walk this earth, to use her resources. It’s time to cede the space to somebody else.” Janet leaned forward again and picked up a pen, turning it over in her hands. Varya swallowed and rubbed the back of her neck, running her hand along the vertebrae, wondering if the bumps she could feel were bone or microchip. They buried the Time Chips so deeply it was impossible to tell without an ultrasound.
“I’ve prepared a full update for you on my research. I’ve left the notes so you can brief the next scientist on the project after my Rest Time. But, Varya, I do think it’s time to look at calling on the expertise of your ex-husband’s department. They might have already solved this particular problem. It’s not the kind of thing they’d publicise, but I’m sure he’d tell you.”
Varya nodded. “I know,” she murmured.
“So, you’ll get in touch with him?”
“I’ll think about it. There’s no rush.”
“And your mother? Is she in a rush?”
Varya glared at her. “Is that all?”
Langford sighed. “Yes. That’s all.” She stood and turned as though to walk around the desk to Varya, but then stopped and held out her hand instead. “It’s been an honour to work with you, it really has. I hope you find everything you’re looking for.”
Varya nodded stiffly, rose, and shook the proffered hand gently, holding it longer than she thought she should. She would be one of the last people to clasp this woman’s hand while blood still coursed through her veins. Varya met Janet’s eye and held her gaze for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said. She bit her lip and opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Thank you.” And then Varya left the office, closing the door behind her.
Chapter six
When Varya next looked up from her work, it was to discover that the lab was almost empty. What had broken her concentration was a figure standing in front of her. The static electricity he created by standing so close had displaced the air around her and made her look up.
Connor grinned at her.
“Finally. I thought I was going to have to tap you on the shoulder and risk getting my fingers bitten off.”
Varya looked around at the empty lab and frowned.
“Is it that late already?” She was used to the way time stretched and shifted now, with her ever-increasing use of the time tabs to get everything done. But she was careful to never take them at work. Never in a public place.
Connor’s expression softened. “No, it’s a Rest Time Celebration.”
Varya’s face fell slightly before she swallowed and forced her expression to be blank, feigning indifference. Nobody could know of her deeper connection to Janet Langford, or her true status at the Minor Miracles Foundation. They had to believe she was just another lab tech.
“Who?” she asked.
“Professor Langford, the one with the long grey...”
Varya waved him away impatiently. “Yes, everyone knows who Professor Langford is.”
Connor held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, well, I just thought you might want to...”
“Yes. Thank you. I’m coming.” Flustered now, she gave her bench a quick once-over, replaced a sample into a glass container, turned the microscope off, and nodded to Connor. She followed him out of the room and down the long hallway to the breakout room.
Professor Langford had chosen to have her Rest Time Celebration at the laboratories. She’d never had children or married. Her work was her entire life, time extension credits well-earned. Connor and Varya padded into the room quietly and joined the back of the crowd.
A large electric clock counted down the minutes and seconds. Twenty-three minutes until Rest Time. A young woman sobbed quietly but theatrically at the front of the crowd. Cynthia, the acting as director of ceremonies for today, shot her a thunderous look. She stopped sobbing and sniffled quietly to herself.
“Thank you, Marcus, for your kind words.” Cynthia smiled to a young man who had just sat down. Varya recognised him as the last scientist Professor Langford had hired, three years ago. Referred to as her protégée, it was expected that he would now progress through the ranks and, one day, become a professor himself. Varya wondered whether Langford had confided in him about her special research project. She’d been so jarred by Janet’s revelation earlier in the day that she hadn’t thought to ask who she thought would be her best successor.
“Does anyone else want to say a few words, before we hear from Professor Langford herself?” Cynthia asked, scanning the room, raised on her tiptoes.
Varya stared at the grey-haired woman sitting up the front, facing her colleagues for the last time. Langford caught her eye and stared back. Varya nodded slightly; Langford returned the gesture.
“Sorry,” Langford mouthed wordlessly.
Varya shook her head. “No,” she mouthed back. “Thank you.” Her chest compressed inwards for just a moment before she breathed deeply and managed to compose herself. She quietly brushed away a few tears.
Langford stared for a moment longer as someone else spouted a few platitudes. Then she nodded again and looked away.
“And now, with just ten minutes to go until Rest Time, we’ll hear from Professor Langford herself,” Cynthia announced, indicating Janet with what she clearly thought was a grand gesture.
Langford opened her mouth and started to speak, but Varya couldn’t hear over the ringing in her ears that signalled a rising panic.
Janet Langford sat in a government-issued Rest Time chair. Made from moulded plastic, the deep ocean blue colour made it look more comfortable and peaceful than it really was. The high back supported Langford’s head as she leaned against it. It had slight grooves all around so that when Langford slumped into the chair’s slight incline, the shallow shelves would catch her head and prevent her neck from lolling around in an undignified fashion. The heavily embroidered cloth that ran the length of her lap and washed over each arm rest—reminding Varya of a table runner—hid the thick band that held Langford to the chair and would prevent her sliding off it altogether. The moulded plastic chair arms were wide enough to hold each of Langford’s forearms and help her stay in an upright position for the duration of the ceremony.
The digital clock showed one minute to go. Varya felt like she was going to throw up. She stumbled and Connor caught her elbow to hold her steady.
“Thank you for your sixty-five years and for your sacrifice,” Cynthia intoned.
“Thank you for your sixty-five years and for your sacrifice,” the crowd responded.
The numbers on the clock turned red.
T
en... nine... Varya knew the programmed chip inserted into Langford’s brain stem had activated itself now.
Eight... seven... Langford stared at the clock and tensed.
Six... five... The crowd was silent.
Four... three... Langford’s arms began to relax. The first wave of drugs had been released: the calmative.
Two... one... She tensed suddenly again, jerking slightly, and threw her head back. The second wave—the poison—flowed through her system.
And then she was still.
And then she was gone.
Two uniformed figures appeared from behind to drape a white silken bag over the top of Langford and her chair.
“Be at rest forevermore,” intoned Cynthia.
“Be at rest forevermore,” repeated the crowd.
Varya forced herself to watch as the uniformed officers tipped the chair back and extended the handles which turned the whole structure into a kind of stretcher. They lifted and carried her out of the open door. Varya held her breath until they were out of sight.
“I have to get back to work,” Varya muttered to Connor.
Chapter seven
Varya relished her time with her mother and son even more than usual that evening. She watched the two from afar as they bent down to inspect a rose bush. Her mother’s steely hair glinted in the sunlight. It was always sunny there, no matter how many seasons passed in Varya’s life. The air was always cool, with that crisp autumn freshness.
It was as though she looked upon the scene through a glass of water. The boy appeared to shimmer slightly as he reached out to the thorny plant with an open palm; the older woman gently held his wrist and pulled him back, shaking her head with a soft chuckle.
Varya missed her mother with a desperate ache sometimes. She had been used to being able to call her any time of day to ask for her advice. More often than not they ended up arguing—both women stubbornly sure that they were right—but when their conversation ended, Varya always felt clearer in her mind. Calmer, better able to do whatever needed to be done.
Stealing Time Page 3