by T. C. Edge
“I can attest to that,” adds Deputy Burns. “The two parts of this city are very different, and have their own unique charms.”
Damn, why couldn’t I have put it like that…
“It sounds like you’d like to live here one day,” he adds. “Do you think you’d fit in?”
I’m in a corner here.
“I hope so,” I say. “But that’s not for me to decide.”
“Quite right. However, I’m sure there are many young bachelors here who would love to wed a brave and beautiful girl like you.”
Another silence. I see my stupid, awkward smile on the big screen. The camera seems to be drawing in closer, picking up every little detail, every tick and movement of my eyes.
“It would be an honour,” I manage to say.
“That it would. Thank you again, Brie, for your courage and cool head. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your time here.”
He extends his hand again, and I unpeel one set of fingers from my plaque.
As I take a grip of his rigid digits, however, a strange sound of static begins to crackle.
My eyes drift to the nearest screen to see that the image of my face has lost its focus. I turn to the other screens to see that they’re similarly afflicted, the images fading and turning an odd, distorted mix of grey and white and black.
A murmur begins to spread through the crowd as all eyes pick out one screen or another.
“What’s going on?” asks Deputy Burns away from the mic, looking to a technician just off the stage.
The man shrugs, before tapping away at an interface in an attempt to decipher the problem.
“Apologies for the delay, ladies and gentlemen,” announces the Deputy. “We appear to be having some technical troubles. We’ll have them sorted momentarily.”
The crowd continue to murmur, whispering now among themselves. I stand there, still rooted to the spot, wondering if I should move away or not.
Suddenly, the hissing and buzzing grows louder, biting and scratching at my ears. I grimace at the sound and shut my eyes.
It ends abruptly.
The square goes silent once more but for the collective hum of the audience. My eyes open and turn again to the screens. A ripple of confusion swells.
What’s going on?
On the screens now, all is dark. But in the centre, a silhouette remains, blacker than the background, and in the shape of a man.
I turn to Deputy Burns, who looks at the image with the bare whisker of a reaction. But there’s something there: a little frown, a sharper glint in his usually detached eyes.
Then, rumbling out from the screens, a strange, modulated voice echoes.
“I speak on behalf of the Nameless,” it says loudly. “And I speak directly to the oppressed, to all those living across Outer Haven.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Deputy Burns march off to the side of the stage. He talks sharply to the technician, barking orders.
“Your lives are a lie,” continues the voice. “Your freedom is false. Do not give in to fear. The Fanatics are not who you think they are…”
More static burns in my ears. The Deputy hovers over the technician, who taps furiously on the interface.
Through the static, the voice continues, more difficult to hear now as the technician works to sever the connection.
“We are your friends. We are your salvation. The day of reckoning is coming…”
Across the stage, I hear the technician announce: “Got it.”
As he does, the screens all fade to black once more, cutting off the mysterious voice. Then, flickering, they light up bright. And fill again with my face.
I’m still staring at the screen as my face reappears. I’m certainly not smiling anymore. I’m just staring, and looking pretty dumb, with a heavy frown cutting off half my eyes.
It takes me a moment to properly see myself. I turn to look at Deputy Burns, who comes hurrying back over to me. His weird smile is even more forced than usual.
“Sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “We have been having problems with pranksters recently…”
A flurry of voices sound down by the stage. The crowd still remain in a slight state of confusion, an incessant murmuring and whispering filling the air.
“Excuse me again. One moment,” says the Deputy.
I look to see the same technician beckoning him over, accompanied by several others, as well as some members of the City Guard.
He rushes towards them, and this time I find myself drawn along too. Frankly, I can’t bear it up on that stage alone anymore.
As the Deputy reaches his men, I hear the technician say: “We’ve traced them to the communications mainframe, sir. We think they’re hybrids.”
I note a quiver of rare anger rise up Deputy Burns’s face.
“Send out the Stalkers,” he says.
12
As I stand there, hovering on the edge of the stage, Deputy Burns’s eyes flash back to mine.
“Ah, Brie…perhaps you should step down now,” he says, quickly returning to his usual calm countenance.
I don’t need to be told twice.
With a quick step, I’m off the stage and shuffling into the shadows on the other side. Around me, various technicians dart and run, and members of the City Guard tap on their forearm interfaces or talk into little microphones in their helmets.
By the little titbits I manage to pick up on, the hunt for the perpetrators of the communications hijack is getting into full swing. Clearly, these are anything but pranksters.
As I hurry further on, I hear Deputy Burns behind me, trying to continue on with the ceremony as if nothing’s happened. With only a few more of us to get through, I imagine he’ll be hurrying to the end as quickly as he can.
Down the short tunnel below the stage, I find Tess with the other Outer Haveners. They seem to be whispering together in a little group, speculating as to what’s just happened.
“The Nameless,” I hear one young man say. “Who are they?”
Several of the group shrug and shake their heads. They should be glad there are no posture police around to admonish them.
A few options are postulated as I join them and Tess brings me into the circle.
“They’re probably the Fanatics,” one says. “Just trying to mess with us all.”
“That’s dumb,” counters another. “They’re Disposables. Who else can they be?”
“Disposables?! That’s ridiculous. They couldn’t organise something like that!”
A bout of bickering ensues. It’s drawn to a close by a middle-aged woman with a stocky build and stern eyes.
“Be quiet, all of you,” she mutters. “You shouldn’t talk about such things here. But for what it’s worth…I think they’re hybrids…”
Her words bring a short silence to the group.
Hybrids…that’s what the technician said.
In the background, a muted applause rings out again, and we all turn to see another one of our group dropping down from the stage and coming our way.
“Jeez, that was quick,” says Tess.
“This isn’t going to last long,” I mutter. “We should find Sophie, get her to take us home.”
“But there’s a banquet later.”
I shake my head.
“Somehow, I get the impression that it’s going to be called off.”
Less than ten minutes later, we get confirmation of exactly that. Once we’ve all gathered, Deputy Burns joins us from the stage once more.
“Many apologies to all of you for what happened, especially those who came after the interruption,” he says. “And Brie, to be caught up in that was quite unfair. However, I have some more disappointing news. I’m afraid the banquet is to be cancelled. At this time, it isn’t deemed safe…”
“Safe?” says Tess. “Why isn’t it safe?”
“Well, it’s just precautionary, Miss Bradbury. Whether there’s a threat or not, it isn’t logical to gather in large groups. However,
there’s no reason why your time here should be cut completely short. Your guides have been instructed to take you to their homes, where you can get a better appreciation of life here in Inner Haven.”
I can see a hundred questions in the eyes of the Outer Haveners. Clearly, however, the Deputy has far more pressing things to attend to. With a courteous little nod, he thanks us again for our participation today before moving off towards the doors of the High Tower.
Tess looks at me.
“Good instincts,” she says. “Did he tell you the feast would be called off?”
I shake my head.
“Like you say, just instinct.”
As we wait in our little group, our guides appear one by one and begin scooping up their charges. Sophie appears a little late on the draw, arriving last of all.
“Sorry girls, it’s rather busy out there. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not really,” says Tess. “So, apparently we’re going to your place?”
“Yes indeed. Let’s get to the car, shall we?”
She begins leading us off down the street behind the towering stands and screens above. People swarm everywhere, returning to their days as the square quickly empties. By the time we reach the garage and drive back out onto the streets, the roads are predominantly clear once more.
Sticking primarily to the Spiral, we circle back out of the city, moving towards its boundary. Given her standing as an Unenhanced, Sophie and her husband occupy an apartment on the outer circle of the Spiral, close to the partition wall that cuts the city of Haven in two.
Naturally, our minds are filled with queries about what just happened. Sophie, meanwhile, appears keen to avoid the subject.
“Oh, just pranksters as Deputy Burns said,” she tells us. “It’s not something to worry about.”
It’s obvious she’s hiding something. Try as she might, she can’t conceal her emotions like a Savant. The pitch of her voice, and her refusal to engage with our questions, is evidence enough that something’s going on here that we’re not privy to.
Soon, the car is slowing and turning into one of the many identical buildings that line the border of Inner Haven, disappearing underground. It slides into a specialised parking spot, clearly allotted for her use. When we climb out, Sophie leads us towards a lift that rises up through the centre of the building.
Up we go, shooting towards the fourth floor and stepping out into a lifeless corridor lined with doors on either side. Each one is identified by a number – 408 in Sophie’s case – and opened by use of a scanner that swiftly examines Sophie’s unique fingerprints and hand shape to provide us entry.
“Beats carrying a key,” says Tess as we follow her inside.
The apartment carries the scent and signature of the city. In other words, it’s clean, pristine, coloured in chrome silver and white and has a slight, but noticeable, aroma of chemicals.
I’ve noticed that it’s the same just about everywhere, probably owing to the relentless efforts taken to ensure that the entire city is perpetually spotless. It’s only faint, though, and is probably something that you quickly forget when you spend any time here.
Continuing her function as our tour guide, Sophie takes us on a quick circuit of the apartment. Each room is as dull as the last, lacking any life or vibrancy of any kind.
The bed, however, does look comfortable. I’ll give it that at least.
The place is also equipped with some mod cons that I’d rather like back at the academy. Everything appears to be voice controlled and activated, just like the car, and exclusively triggered by Sophie’s voice.
I assume her husband can also issue commands. But knowing Sophie as I now do, I can’t be one hundred per cent certain.
She invites us to take a seat in the spacious and airy sitting room, and orders for the outward looking wall to turn ‘semi-transparent’. Again, like with the car, the wall half fades away, providing us with a view over the city streets towards Outer Haven.
From here, it’s just about possible to peek over the wall and get a feel for the more diverse architecture and structural patterns that define Outer Haven.
“Do you ever miss it?” I ask, looking towards and beyond the wall.
“Outer Haven?” asks Sophie.
“Yeah.”
She delays a second before answering.
“Perhaps I would a little if I only ever stayed here,” she says. “But I go there often for my work, so I suppose I have the best of both worlds.” She smiles warmly. “Now, how about some drinks? Tea, coffee?”
I’m hardly a prolific drinker of either.
“Just water for me, thanks,” I say.
“Got any whiskey?” asks Tess.
Clearly, her tipple with Mrs Carmichael has given her the taste.
Sophie laughs and wanders off, ignoring her.
“I was serious!” says Tess, turning to me with a frown.
I chuckle as I drop back down onto the smooth sofa, wondering how long exactly we have to be here. And why.
As Tess and I prepare to re-enter into a discussion about the day’s events, Sophie sweeps back into the room, carrying a tray with flasks of water and a plate of biscuits.
Her offer to take a couple is quickly accepted by the both of us, although neither stop at just two. Biscuits are luxuries where we’re from. This is not an opportunity to be missed.
For a little while, the tasty cookies are sufficient to distract us from our conversation and questioning. Perhaps that was the idea all along. As the sugar fades, however, Tess’s keen mind jumps back into action.
“I didn’t actually see the screen,” she starts, gathering the final crumbs from the plate. “I only heard the voice – that was weird, by the way. What did the guy look like?”
She turns to Sophie, but quickly moves her eyes to me, knowing I’m more likely to answer.
“He was just a silhouette,” I say. “I dunno, could have even been a woman. That modulator would change anyone’s voice.”
“It wasn’t a woman,” says Sophie, a little out of the blue.
We both turn to her.
“How do you know?”
She smiles awkwardly, and shuffles her posture a little on the sofa.
“Well…it just didn’t sound like a woman, did it?” she says hurriedly.
I peer closely at her. What is she afraid of?
Suddenly, an alarm sounds on the wall. Her eyes flash and turn to it, and she darts towards the electronic interface. She presses a button, and through an intercom comes the sound of a crying baby.
“Sorry girls. That’s just my son, Maddox.”
“You left him here alone?” I ask.
“Oh, good God no. He’s well looked after by our techno-nanny. I could leave him, but a mother’s touch is always best. I won’t be long.”
She moves off again down the corridor, and we hear a door open and close.
“This place is sooo weird,” says Tess. “They even let robots look after their kids!”
“I know. Did you hear Deputy Burns’s questions for me on stage, asking if I’d like to live here? I didn’t know what the hell to say.”
“You did well, I thought. We all did. I dunno, though. This place might grow on you if you actually lived here. Like, if you were in Sophie’s position, going both ways. Let’s be honest, life isn’t exactly awesome over at the academy.”
“Better than here.”
She shrugs.
“Maybe. I’m not going to judge it on a few hours. You heard what Sophie said. It grows on you, this place…”
“Yeah well, I’m not going to trust Sophie on this. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so vapid…”
“I’d be careful what you say about my wife.”
A voice, deep and firm, reverberates from the hallway behind us. We turn quickly to see a man standing at the entrance to the room, down the corridor from the front door.
He’s young, perhaps Sophie’s age or a little older, and has the same haircut as e
very other man here: short and neatly cut. The colour is jet black, though, and his eyes are piercingly dark, focused and intense.
It’s the same for all the Hawks.
He takes a pace in, his eyes unblinking as they survey us.
“You must be Sophie’s husband,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything…”
“You meant every word, Brie,” he counters.
“You know my name?”
“Of course I do,” he says smoothly. “Everyone in the city knows both your names now.”
He moves around the sofa, and extends a hand. We both stand quickly to our feet.
“My name’s Rycard, and yes, I am Sophie’s husband. Nice to meet you both.”
His shake is firm and quick. After the brief introduction, he steps back and takes a seat, and we return to ours.
“So, you were at the ceremony today?” asks Tess.
Rycard leans forward and takes a flask of water, gulping down half of it before answering.
“I was on duty,” he says. “I work for the City Guard.”
“Oh, wow, do you get to work over in Outer Haven much?”
“Quite often, yes.”
“And is that how you met Sophie?”
“No, that’s not exactly how it works. She was scouted along with other suitable girls. We met at an official function here for Enhanced bachelors.”
“Like a matchmaking ball?” I ask.
“Pretty much, yes. Perhaps you’ll get to experience one soon, going by the Deputy’s line of questioning.”
I frown and recoil at the thought, which I only later realise is probably quite insulting. Both to him and Sophie.
“Can I deduce that you’re not keen on marrying up,” he asks wryly.
I don’t answer.
“And how about you, Tess? Surely we Enhanced aren’t so repulsive?”
“No, you’re not repulsive at all,” she says eagerly.
Jesus, Tess…the guy’s wife’s in the next room.
“Well, that’s very nice of you to say,” he says, smiling for the first time and revealing a set of straight white teeth. “Where is Sophie, by the way?”
“Oh, she’s just checking on Maddox,” I say.
The name of his son brightens his smile.
“I see. Well, while she’s gone, if you have any questions for me, fire away. I know you’re probably curious about how certain things work around here.”