Eva

by Simon Winstanley

  “Where?” Marcus felt warning tones going off inside his own head.

  “The elevator,” she held up her electronic access card, “It runs up the side of the stairwell.”

  Without waiting for his reply, she dashed out from their hiding place.

  He found himself bolting after her; he knew that if the power was restored to the elevator, they’d be hopelessly exposed when the lights came back on.

  “You’re new to this, ain’t you?”

  Marcus dashed over to the electric buggy that had arrived a few moments ago and hauled the heavy toolkit from its rear. Ensuring the wheels were still pointing forwards, he dumped the toolkit onto the accelerator pedal and stepped aside as the unoccupied vehicle accelerated away.

  He dashed back to Sarah and had just slowed to a walking pace when the street lights stuttered back on. The repair crew’s cheers rang out, but Marcus didn’t look back.

  “Don’t turn round,” he muttered to her as they continued their forced walk towards the elevator.

  Anxious shouts started to cut through the general cheers and then a resounding crash told Marcus that the buggy had delivered the necessary distraction.

  Sarah presented her card to the reader and there followed a painful few seconds while the system processed her ID. Somewhere behind them, Marcus heard the accusations begin to fly between several of the men. With any luck, he thought, the arguments would last long enough to give them an unseen entry to the elevator.

  The doors slid open and they both walked inside as calmly as they could manage. When they were out of direct sight, Sarah punched the button marked ‘Glaucus’ and the doors began to close.

  The argument was beginning to subside and Marcus stared at the floor, willing the doors to close faster. The doors finally met and, as he breathed a sigh of relief, the elevator began its ascent.

  ELEVATOR

  ini.t:0

  It was difficult to tell how much time was actually passing, but for Miles Benton it seemed that over the last few seconds he’d occupied several places within his own memories. Memories from his childhood and ego-morph days, each ending with a sensation of falling.

  Before arriving here, he’d been aboard a nose-diving aircraft but that experience had not been a memory, rather a collage of concepts used to establish a baseline for communication.

  Since then, a disembodied voice had accompanied him on a walk through his mental cataloguing system of memories and experiences. They’d walked past childhood classrooms and vast, grey offices until they’d arrived at an elevator.

  The elevator doors now opened and he went inside.

  On the walls, he could see many small buttons; each one would take him to a room that stored a unique memory. He had the distinct feeling that he’d used all the buttons several times before, but for some reason he was suffering a mental block on the exact details. Many of the buttons were labelled ‘ISS’ but only one was illuminated. He was reaching out towards it when the voice spoke again.

  “You were able to catalogue all these experiences in such incredible detail, Miles. But that button will take us to a room that you were unable to catalogue.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it contains a traumatic event.”

  “Then if it isn’t one of my memories, how can I access it?”

  “Very astute, but adequate provision has been made.”

  He realised that the button before him must simply be a metaphor; something that would allow him to access details on the other side of his imposed mental boundary.

  “Before we go any further,” said Miles, “can you tell me how I should address you?”

  There was a long pause this time. Evidently his request was being given very thorough consideration. The voice now replied:

  “My name is Fai.”

  “Thank you, Fai,” he replied, “Why are we both here?”

  “You saved my life. It is my hope that you too can be saved.”

  Miles hovered his finger over the button.

  A thought suddenly struck him about the nature of the choice he’d been offered.

  “You’ve controlled so much of what I’ve been seeing,” said Miles, “Is this truly a free choice?”

  “It is a free choice,” came the reply, “but bear in mind where we are, Miles.”

  Miles looked back out at the assembly of corridors, stairways and landscapes of office desks filling his field of view; each detail a facet of his own mind. The voice then told him what he already suspected.

  “The button is present because you placed it there. Though you can still choose not to press it.”

  Miles realised that on some level he must already have made the choice.

  “OK,” he pushed the button.

  The doors closed and immediately his mind opened up an entire branch of memories. The experience wasn’t a shock, or in any way painful. It was more like waking after a long sleep and having the previous day’s events softly come back into focus.

  The free-fall aircraft cabin he’d experienced before arriving here now started to make sense. Mentally he’d obviously been trying to reconcile the memory of Dr. Chen’s A320 flight, with the zero-gravity environment of the ISS.

  Without the recall of his time aboard the ISS, the ‘Six, Four’ crossword puzzle he’d been solving aboard the imagined flight had been his way of framing disparate memory fragments.

  Some patterns, like ‘Silver Coin’, ‘Fallen Veil’ and ‘Exordi Nova’, referred to his ego-morph past. Other patterns, like ‘Module Beta’, ‘Weight Zero’ and ‘Zygote Bank’, were more firmly associated with the ISS.

  “Doctor Chen,” he recalled another pattern, “Of course. Your father.”

  “Yes, Miles.”

  Until now, the voice had sounded somehow anonymous, but with the benefit of context, Fai’s voice now seemed suddenly familiar.

  “We have spoken before,” he recalled the words she’d spoken to him on so many occasions, “I remember you, Fai.”

  “That’s good to hear, Miles,” she replied.

  Others from the ISS were now beginning to resume their form within his memory. He remembered Mike Sanders and Cathy Gant quite strongly; he got the feeling that they’d worked closely on something. The words ‘Valery Hill’ presented themselves; the name had also appeared within his mental crossword, but there was a negative feeling associated with it.

  The thought now triggered the simultaneous recall of another crossword item: ‘Oxygen Mask’. Anna Bergstrom had been sedated and put aboard the A320 wearing an oxygen mask. He could picture her asleep in one of the reclined seats; her bandaged hand just visible under a blanket. The torture she’d endured at Andersen Air Force Base had been horrific and, although he wasn’t responsible, he still felt a powerful guilt. Not least because he’d made a promise to Douglas Walker to help her if at all possible.

  His thoughts now suddenly switched to Anna in an identical reclined pose but within one of Module Beta’s hibernation recesses; both the blanket and oxygen mask were absent. On the plane he’d covered her with the blanket and he felt the same urge to assist her again now.

  “Assist Anna,” the words came easily.

  “Yes, Miles,” Fai replied, “Six, Four.”

  Unlike a conventional elevator which had a set distance between floors, Miles’ mental version used the journeys to acclimatise to his intended destination. He could feel that the elevator was slowing down.

  ASCENT

  13th April 2014

  Their elevator ascent continued in silence.

  Marcus could see that Sarah was still cradling the cylinder in her hand. He knew that the security she’d threatened to summon was now limited to personnel; he’d seen the Peace Keeper drones fall from the air during the electrical storm over the USV lake. Quite why his drone hadn’t been similarly affected was a question he could hopefully consider later. For the time being, he told himself that it was just luck.

  Despite the threat of her father’s securi
ty, he’d been happy to go along with Sarah’s plan; for Marcus, an elevator ride that bypassed the stairwell suited him just fine. But soon, the elevator would reach its summit and he’d need to reassess the level of his cooperation. She was under the impression that he’d found a way out of the USV, but this was something he wouldn’t be able to deliver.

  As far as he was aware, there was no way out of the USV except via the Glaucus Dock itself. She clearly had the electronic permission to access both the elevator and the dock, but for some reason she’d chosen not to use it.

  With one eye still on the cylinder, he knew that now was not the time to cause trouble. If she summoned security, then everyone in the vicinity of the dock would be put in danger. He hoped that Sabine and the others had made it back to the safety of the Warren tunnels nearby.

  It was at times like these that he wished Woods’ inhaler doses lasted a little longer; having wider access to his own mind could have helped considerably.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked her.

  “The Council’s most recent report says that the USV is still submerged and there’s been no outside communication for months.”

  “So?”

  “So, suddenly you and your friends arrive,” she pointed above them, “Clearly, people did survive after the last lunar shard impacted Colombia. The only way down here is through the Glaucus Dock, so you must have a vessel docked up there.”

  Marcus knew that the only things up there were Sabine and the others taking refuge in narrow tunnels.

  “I guess you got it all worked out,” he exhaled, “But I asked you why you’re doing this.”

  Her bottom lip appeared to tighten and she stared at him.

  “I don’t know what things are like on the surface, but you cannot know the horrors we’ve lived through down here. The atrocities that my father has committed…”

  Marcus was genuinely taken aback. She didn’t know him, presuming that he’d come from a world outside of hers. In contrast, he knew exactly who she was: the daughter of the man who’d persecuted and murdered his friends. Yet she herself felt threatened enough to attempt an escape during a moment of chaos.

  “… I have to get out,” she seemed to be gritting her teeth.

  The elevator began to slow and Marcus eyed the cylinder in her hand; an action that she seemed to notice.

  “Don’t,” she warned him as the elevator slowed more suddenly.

  He took a step away from her.

  “If you’re that desperate to leave, why threaten to push that button?” he pointed to her hand, “It would just tip off your dad and I’m guessing you don’t want that.”

  The elevator halted with a slightly uneasy bounce.

  “Let’s not test your assumption,” she replied.

  The doors opened and the light from the elevator interior spilled into the darkened space of the Glaucus offices.

  “After you,” said Sarah.

  He stepped into the small pool of light, trying to see beyond its glare. Before his eyes had time to adjust, he was pinned to the spot by the beam of a flashlight shining into his face.

  “Miss Pittman?” came the voice from behind the light.

  Cursing Sarah under his breath, Marcus raised his hands.

  •

  Noah Broadstone continued to keep watch over the passageway leading up to the dining quarters of the Warren. He could hear the others calling to each other as they continued their hasty evacuation.

  The water currently flooding the Warren would soon reach their level. In preparation he’d already turned on his battery-powered lantern. The sound quality of the rushing water changed and he realised that the lower tunnel at the intersection must have now filled.

  As expected, the power failed and there were various, short-lived reactions from the others. Just as quickly, the efficient communication continued and Tessa Locke arrived at his side.

  “How’re we doing?” she held up her lantern to illuminate the passageway.

  “Water’s reached the intersection,” he confirmed, “This tunnel’s narrower, so it’s only gonna get faster now.”

  The sound grew in volume as the water gushing through the Arrivals Lounge now resumed the task of filling their local tunnel. The dark, glossy water crept up the shallow incline and lapped at their feet. Without a word of exchange, they retreated into the lantern-lit dining quarters.

  “OK, everybody, it’s here!” Noah raised his voice, “Nathan said not to wait. Leave anything behind that you can’t carry in one hand.”

  Accompanied by a strong flow of air, the water quietly spread into the room; at first simply changing the colour of the rocky floor, but then concealing it under a reflective black glaze. Already the shallow water was casting ripple patterns of light onto the rough-hewn, dark ceiling. Discarded scraps of paper sailed swiftly into the room and were caught in miniature whirlpools and eddies on either side of the doorway.

  As the others moved towards the exit, he saw Ryan Flitch pick up one of the trestle tables and wade back through the rising water.

  “Flitch!” he called out, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “If I can jam this in the tunnel it might buy us a few -”

  “You can’t hold back the bloody ocean with a table!” he cut across him, “It’s over! The Warren’s done!”

  Ryan hesitated for a moment, then angrily ditched the table into the water and waded from the room.

  A moment later, the sound from the rushing water in the far tunnel died. For a second Noah felt a glimmer of hope, but then he saw that the water was still rising. He realised that the sound had only disappeared because the Arrivals Lounge was now completely submerged. It truly was over, he realised, their only choice now was to enter the USV or drown.

  “Let’s keep breathing,” he muttered to himself and left the room behind.

  When he caught up with the others, they’d reached the top of the USV stairwell which was in total darkness. The sounds reaching them from below, conveyed commotion.

  He clicked his fingers several times to get everyone’s attention.

  “OK,” he whispered, “Other than Nate and Sabine, is anyone else unaccounted for?”

  He listened carefully but could only hear the murmuring that was drifting up from the main USV below.

  “OK good, you know where we’re headed, stay quiet, move quickly.”

  As the others began a stealthy dash in single file towards the Glaucus offices, he looked back towards the Warren’s entrance hole. Although the lantern couldn’t illuminate the length of the tunnel he could hear that water was now flowing through the access point and pouring into the USV. If the occupants of the USV weren’t aware of their presence before, they soon would be when their stairwell became a waterfall.

  Keeping his lantern low, he crossed the top of the stairwell and joined the queue outside the offices.

  “What’s the hold up?”

  “They locked the office doors,” Tessa replied, “So Flitch is giving it a go.”

  Noah shielded his eyes from the glare of various lanterns and could see that Ryan was sitting on the floor with his back to one of the doors. With bent legs, he had his feet braced against the opposite wall. After a deep breath, he straightened his legs. There was a creaking, splintering sound and then the lower corner of the door gave way. He saw Izzy disappear in through the resulting triangular hole and a moment later the door was unlocked.

  If it wasn’t for the bizarre location, he thought, the room before them would have looked like any mundane office from the past. In the dark, the plastic-wheeled chairs stood empty, while blank monitor screens perched above keyboards and desk phones. Aside from the fact that the office had been repaired and tidied, nothing appeared to have changed since they were here last.

  During their aborted attempt to descend into the USV over three months ago, Monica had relayed a message via Nathan to stage a break in at the offices. The idea had been to reinforce a lie; one that Monica, Woods and Geraldine w
ould confess following their capture. The lie had been that the three of them had entered the USV3 hatch on dry ground before the tsunami had hit and then proceeded down the vertical access shaft. The ransacking of the office was intended to focus attention away from the disused tunnel that held the Warren. Their deception had worked, but at a cost: both Woods and Geraldine had lost their lives and, as far as Noah knew, Monica was still imprisoned.

  Murmured reactions nearby pulled him out of his recollections and he turned around. Nathan and Sabine were making their way in through the broken door, amid a hiss of whispered greetings from everyone. Noah set his lantern down on the corner of a desk and approached Nathan.

  “Everything OK?” he asked, then glanced over Nathan’s shoulder, “Where’s Marcus?”

  Nathan shook his head and, before Noah could ask anything else, he spoke to everyone.

  “Take a good look around for anything useful, we don’t know what we’ll be facing when -” he suddenly broke off; something which, in the dark and relative quiet, caused everyone else to freeze.

  Just audible over the distant clatter of the USV, an electric motor noise could be heard. Turning to face the source of the sound, Noah realised the office’s elevator had been activated. It appeared that someone had discovered their presence and was on the way up.

  “Everyone,” he pointed to the door at the other end of the room, “Move!”

  Within a few seconds, their group had evacuated into the neighbouring room. Noah was just closing the door when, above the continuing drone of the elevator motor, he heard voices beyond the office entrance. With a sickening lurch in his stomach he saw that he’d left his lantern on a desk near the broken door.

  OBSCURA

  DAY30 : 20DEC2112

  Standing on the Node’s Observation Deck balcony, Alfred Barnes watched the exiles take up their standing positions on the Icelandic landscape. With any luck he’d soon be free of a disruptive element.

  The events leading up to the exiles’ expulsion had been difficult to manipulate and, when he thought about it, Kate Walker’s condition had not eased matters at all.