by T. C. Edge
“That is true. But it’s also against protocol. You are strictly forbidden from deviating from the colours of the Unenhanced. I advise that you return to your apartment immediately. If not, I will be forced to alert the…”
“You won’t do anything of the sort, Rebecca,” I say.
Her expression registers a small amount of surprise at my comment, and the fact that I cut her off. For an Unenhanced to do that to a Savant is also firmly prohibited. She’s quick to let me know of that fact.
“You continue to break protocol, Mrs Shaw. I have no choice but to report you, after which your marriage to Mr Shaw will be annulled and you will be sent back to Outer Haven.”
“Wow, Rebecca, that’s quite the overreaction, don’t you think?!”
“It is not for me to react to,” she responds. “It is merely the assigned protocol. We must all follow rules, Mrs Shaw. Your inability to do so makes you unsuitable for life here.”
She steps towards me calmly, her breathing still a little heavy after her run.
I move into her path to block the way out.
And when her eyes guide to mine, I flash a very simple order into them.
Take a seat by the wall.
It’s such a basic order that it takes hold quickly. After the briefest of delays she moves straight to the wall and sits down.
I follow behind, and take a knee in front of her.
Now I set a new order. Again, it’s simple, and will give me time to work.
Keep your eyes open. Look straight at me. Relax and stay calm.
Her breathing slows. Her eyes open wide. Her vision sticks straight on me, her blue eyes dilating.
“Good,” I whisper. “This won’t take long…”
And with a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, I begin my search with a single thought pervading my mind.
Please…please work.
Her consciousness is like all Savants: vast, beautiful, stretching far and deep. There’s so much memory there, her ability to recall everything she sees and hears and experiences more acute than anyone I’ve ever tried to manipulate.
Even from the outset, it’s clear that her deeper memories are clearer and more distinct, capable of being drawn up with a little effort if she needs to revisit them.
I feel my pulse beginning to race as I start perusing her recollections, creeping through the vast fields of memory quietly and delicately so as not to rearrange things. I focus hard on memories of schedules, and think specifically of Director Cromwell.
Who is he meeting next, Rebecca, I whisper. Who is Director Cromwell meeting?
As I whisper into her mind, the right memories come forward, surrounding me in their little bubbles. Memories of spreadsheets and files and timings, of meetings set up between the various members of the Consortium and the city officials they regularly meet.
I note that Deputy Commander Burns is fairly high on her agenda right now. He is to have his security credentials and permissions updated, his apartment on level 98 set to be vacated.
Of course, I think to myself. He’s about to be given a major promotion.
Tomorrow, he’s set to join the Consortium, taking up the position of Commander of the City Guard so recently vacated by Commander Fenby. They will waste no time in seeing their ranks completed once more, the body of their departed member barely cold before they see his position filled.
I wonder if any of them even care. Do they spare a thought for their lost comrade, or do they merely look to the next man on the conveyor belt without a second thought?
I assume it’s the latter, and it doesn’t surprise me one bit that Burns will be added to their ranks so quickly.
Yet it does set my mind into focus. Will his promotion provide an opportunity for me? Will he be inaugurated somehow, perhaps welcomed in by Cromwell himself?
With a new haste, I set about searching for details of his upgrade. Unfortunately, I find nothing concrete, Rebecca knowing only about the update to his security permissions and the fact that it will, in fact, be tomorrow that he sees himself officially added to the High Tower.
By the sounds of it, such a thing comes with no fanfare at all. No ceremony, no grand procession. Just a simple journey in the lift to the top, where he’ll set about his new duty and be installed into his new residence.
I guess, given how his predecessor was just assassinated, keeping a low profile over it all isn’t so surprising.
A little further excavation suggests that he’s already beyond my grasp anyway. He lives up on level 98, and is about to rise a couple of floors to the summit. It may just be that he’s spent his last days out on the streets of Inner –and Outer – Haven, his world now the cooped up dome of this towering structure.
And, in any case, being a Mind-Manipulator himself, and one of serious ability at that, I wouldn’t have any chance of rendering him under my control.
So, I start looking further, partially disappointed, and yet partially buoyed by the fact that Rebecca has access to such information. For several more minutes, I focus hard and continue my search, sifting through data and files in her mind as I work my way deeper into her consciousness.
As I begin to grow concerned that I may be causing serious damage to her mind, I happen upon a name that rings a bell. It, too, appears to be quite bright in her mind, Rebecca’s subconscious considering it important and in need of her attention.
I see the name, and it’s joined by a face. A face I saw once before at the bachelor ball.
Ingrid W. Humbert, High Secretary for the Council of Matrimony.
With her name, and face, now growing clear in Rebecca’s memories, I find myself acting faster, searching through her schedule.
In two days time, she’s to come to the High Tower. Something important. An important meeting. I search frantically now for the destination, for the person she’s set to meet, and feel my pulse rise dramatically as I go.
And then I see it. See what I’m looking for.
Level 99. 7PM. Northernmost meeting room.
I stop, and return to my own mind now, thinking again of the schematics of the High Tower. Level 99 is the middle ground between the Consortium and their subordinates, the level where they conduct meetings with other high ranking Savants right beneath their own quarters.
The northernmost meeting room will be directly beneath the northernmost residence of the High Tower.
The residence occupied by Director Cromwell…
And that’s just who she’ll be meeting.
I take a shallow breath and slowly now, gently, withdraw from Rebecca’s mind, an excitement saturating me. I look into my latest target’s eyes and see that they’re still unblinking, slightly glazed. Slowly but surely, they come back to life, and her eyes focus on me once more.
“Mrs Shaw…um, can I help you?”
She looks to her left and right, seemingly confused by what’s just happened. I dart back inside her mind and see the cloud, the memory of my presence in her mind too indistinct for even her to see, despite her powerful eidetic memory.
And standing back to my full height, I reach down and extend my hand.
“I found you here, sat against the wall,” I say. “I just came to see if you were OK…”
She doesn’t take my hand, but stands to her feet by herself. Then she peruses my appearance as she did when I arrived not so long ago.
“Why are you wearing those clothes?” she asks.
I can’t help but smile.
“It’s a long story,” I say. “And one you won’t remember.”
“What do you mean? I remember everything, Mrs Shaw.”
I shake my head.
“Not this.”
And darting back into her head, I hastily erase any memory of my presence, manipulating her one final time before sending her off again around the running track for another few laps.
As she begins running off, yet another slave for me to command, I quickly hasten my way out through the door before she loops around, and
speed my step straight back to the lifts.
And as I do, I give up all pretences of acting like a Savant, my motion buoyant and face bright, despite the dangers I still face and the fatigue clawing at my limbs.
Because now, I’ve found what I was searching for. Now I know who my final target will be.
In two days time, at 7PM, Ingrid W. Humbert will rise up to the northernmost meeting room of level 99. And there, she’ll meet none other than the man I’m so desperate to see: Director Artemis Cromwell.
And as I step into the lift, and begin cruising back to level 51, I lift my eyes once more to the ceiling, and whisper quietly…
“I’m coming for you, Cromwell. I’ll be seeing you real soon…”
103
I know I need to sleep, but I can’t. Not now. Not with Woolf lying unconscious on my sofa. Not with the information that I’ve just discovered in Rebecca’s head now swirling around my own.
Adryan doesn’t look like he wants to sleep either. His eyes are as bright as mine, despite the pain in his head caused by the gash I inflicted, and the feeling of tiredness that must also be spreading through his body.
He’s pacing around the room as he tends to do when he’s thinking, and I’m doing the same. It’s too much. One of us needs to stop. I drop to the sofa and spare a glance at Woolf. She’s still out for the count, my fist leaving an impression on her jaw that looks like it will bruise up fairly badly.
She’ll need some lotion to calm the swelling and hide the discolouration. When I order her to walk right out of this building, I don’t want any questions to be raised.
Adryan, though, is still covering the ground like a Dasher, a similar excitement in him as there is in me. I’ve just arrived back into the apartment, and I’ve just filled him in on my rendezvous with Rebecca.
Now, we’re rushing towards the final stretch together. And it’s set my heart thudding like a jackhammer.
As the storm continues to batter the building, sending occasional streaks of lightning through the sky, Adryan stops and set his eyes to the window.
It looks as though the firefight is still going on down below in the northern quarter, not that he can see it. Only my augmented eyes are capable of doing so, peering through the black clouds and heavy rain and taking in the flashes of blue and red and yellow light.
“It makes sense,” Adryan says, staring out. He gives no immediate context to what he’s referring to.
“What does?” I’m forced to ask.
“Humbert meeting Cromwell,” he answers. “She’s the highest ranking official for the Council of Matrimony, and that’s something that the Director takes a close interest in. Making sure our population here is genetically diverse, even if that means weakening certain bloodlines with Unenhanced blood, is something that’s been high on his agenda.”
“Then why isn’t Humbert a member of the Consortium?” I query.
“She’s not quite senior enough. There are various other important councils that have no representation. Their most senior members, like Humbert, will no doubt report to Director Cromwell.”
“Well it’s perfect then,” I say. “I’ve just married up, so already have a way in. I can go and visit Humbert at the Council building, right? Manipulate her there?”
“I doubt you’d get an appointment at this late notice. In fact,” he adds, thinking to himself, “I doubt you’d get one at all. However, if you can ‘run into her’ before her meeting, then that might work. You’ll need to do so outside of the High Tower, and ideally without too many people around to see what you’re up to.”
“Right. I’ll catch her coming out of her office, before the meeting. I assume it’s the same place where I took my approval test, the building right next to Compton’s Hall?”
“That’s the one,” says Adryan. “Her office is on the top floor of the building as far as I know. We can’t be sure if she’ll be there, though. She might have business elsewhere.”
“I didn’t see anything else in her schedule in Rebecca’s head,” I say.
“And you wouldn’t. Rebecca will only know schedules for the High Tower. You’ll have to go there earlier in the day and find out from the main secretary where she is. But it’s crucial that you get to her before the meeting. She’ll be taking the lift right to the top, and she’ll be doing so alone. You won’t be able to get in with her down in the atrium.”
“I get it. I’ll have to get her to stop off at level 51, climb in, and hitch a ride with her to level 99.”
He nods, the plan coming together.
With our words running frantically, another boom of thunder vibrates through the building. I turn my eyes back to the storm and recall the explosion that went off only an hour or so ago.
“Did you get in touch with Lady Orlando, by the way?” I ask.
I’m thinking of my brother now. And the rest of those I care about down there. If they’re not alright, then this entire mission is folly anyway.
I’m fairly surprised when Adryan nods. My eyes widen and I jump up from the sofa.
“What did she say?! Is my brother OK?!”
“He’s fine, Brie,” he says, settling me. “By the sounds of it, the firefight down there is fairly typical of how things are. They get these sorts of attacks all the time in the northern quarter.”
Yeah, don’t I know it. The first time I went there, I got caught up in one in the black market.
“So they haven’t broken into the underlands or anything?”
“Oh no, they’re just probing, trying to round up Disposables and take down any known sympathisers out there who feed the Nameless information and such. Lady Orlando says it’s a little more aggressive than usual, but nothing they can’t handle right now.”
“Well that’s good to know. And what about the explosion, over in the eastern quarter?”
He shakes his head, his brows hovering lower.
“Looks like that was the real attack,” he says sombrely. “The attack in the northern quarter looks to be diversionary too.”
“Why? What did they hit?”
He takes a breath.
“The water treatment facility,” he says, exhaling.
“You’re kidding…”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.
“But that’s where the water for all of Outer Haven is cleansed and detoxified,” I breathe. “Without it, the people won’t be able to drink the water without getting sick. It’ll kill hundreds…”
Adryan shakes his head.
“Thousands,” he says. “That’s clearly the plan. The Consortium have made the people terrified by using the Fanatics. Now they’re trying to make them even more desperate. Without clean drinking water, the people will have no choice but to submit to whatever the Consortium ask for.”
“But not if they knew!” I say loudly. “If they knew these Fanatics’ attacks were all coming from the Consortium they’d….”
“What?” cuts in Adryan. “They’d what…riot? Rebel? I don’t think so. That’s not what my studies have shown. The people will bow down and obey like they always have. And this is only going to weaken them and spread more fear.”
“But not everyone,” I counter. “If they knew how strong the Nameless were, they’d fight back, they’d join up!”
“Some, maybe. But most wouldn’t. People are sheep, Brie. When a single wolf comes prowling, they scatter in fear.”
“So what? We just let it happen?!”
“No, of course not,” he says, frowning. “What the hell do you think we’re doing here? We complete the mission, we kill Cromwell, and we destabilise the Consortium. Only then will this end. Otherwise, it’s all out war.”
His words leave a silence behind in the room, one broken only by the peppering of the rain on the windows. Once more, a steady grumble begins flowing from somewhere across the city, following seconds behind as the sky lights up with a flash from the heavens.
I drop back down to the sofa, the exhaustion now starting to take its
toll. My brother wasn’t lying when he said the Consortium were closing in. Once more, they’ve used their phoney terrorist group to lay siege to the city, but this time it’s so much worse.
If the people have no water, it’ll cause widespread panic. And if that happens, Adryan is exactly right: the whole of Outer Haven will do whatever they have to do to ensure they survive.
The Fanatics have been preaching against the use of emotion, preaching for the dedication to reason and logic only. The people still think they’re nothing but worshipers of the Savants, regular Unenhanced willing to do anything to see the rest of their kind live their lives in the same manner in which the Savants do.
They don’t know the Consortium are feeding their own desires through this terrorist group. They still believe that their freedoms are real, that the Consortium wish for them to maintain their liberties.
For so long I thought the same. For so long I lived in ignorance of the reality of this place. And if I were down there now, perhaps I’d begin to fall in line as well. With no clean, purified water to drink, what choice do they have?
Things truly are getting desperate now. And right here at the heart of it all, we have no time to waste.
I turn again to Woolf, still breathing lightly on the sofa. She’s begun to shuffle occasionally now, her mind slowly lifting from the fog generated by my slashing fist.
Still staring at her, I ask my husband about the drugs he needs.
“Do you have them here now?” I ask.
He moves from the window and sits on the sofa beside me, turning his eyes to our prisoner as well.
He takes a breath and settles in a little deeper. Clearly, his own body is flagging too.
“Not here,” he says. “I’ll have to get them when the consumption level fully opens. There’s an outlet that I’ll be able to get them from.”
“What sort of drug is it? You can just, what, get in from a vending machine or something?”
He nods wearily, his head lying back.
“They’re common drugs that Savants take to help them sleep. Our minds can sometimes get too active. The drug just helps us relax, and will make Woolf more pliable. We’ll give her a dose that will only weaken her, and not make her pass out.”