by T. C. Edge
The final barrier was just that; a barrier. Once more, I had to argue my way through the security cordon outside the High Tower, before being given passage inside. Since they’d seen me leaving earlier with Agent Woolf, they didn’t question why I was outside of the cordon.
What they did question, however, was the whereabouts of the agent. I merely told them that she was off doing her job, which appeared to be a sufficiently viable explanation for them.
So, with a couple of minor hiccups, I worked my way back home. And now, here I am, sitting on the sofa in the apartment alone, trying to put the last pieces of my plan into place.
The most notable problem I can think of right now is the small matter of finding a weapon. I could, if I wish, merely fetch one of the razor sharp blades from the kitchen to accompany me on my journey to the top. Although that would require a very different style of assassination, a more ‘up close and personal’ form of homicide that I’d rather avoid.
The most appealing option, I suppose, is to use a gun, although that would require me stealing one. In the end, that’s probably what I’ll have to do – even if it means screwing this entire mission up, I’m going to get a damn pistol. Frankly, I just can’t bear the idea of stabbing an old man to death, regardless as to what he’s done.
A gun, though, isn’t so hard. Point and shoot and it’s all over. I could even shut my eyes if I really wanted, assuming my aim was steady enough to rely upon.
Thankfully, there are plenty of armed City Guards in the building to choose from – never thought I’d say that – so all I’ll need to do is get one alone, pop inside his mind, and get him to hand me his pistol. Job done.
I’ll have to do that tomorrow, though, to avoid any sort of investigation, and ideally as near to the meeting time of 7PM as possible.
Before then, the other loose end I need to tie will be getting in front of Ingrid W. Humbert to actually set the order in her head. If she doesn’t stop off at level 51 and let me on, then she’ll cruise straight past and I’ll have no means of hitching a ride. Right now, that’s the only option, and as Adryan correctly said, I can’t step into the lift with her in the atrium without raising some sort of alarm.
All needs to be secret and done with the utmost efficiency. I have absolutely no margin for error here. A single mistake will cause my death, Adryan’s death, and the deaths of many whom I care about. And, well, the entire city will collapse under the might of the Consortium, and all of the Unenhanced will gradually be phased out of existence.
So, yeah, as I told Zander…no pressure.
None at all.
I’m joined by my husband that evening, himself needing to keep up appearances at work despite everything we’re going through. The illusion needs to be maintained, and so far he’s been doing a stellar job.
When he returns, he sucks me into a strong hug before saying a single word. Obviously, he’s been fretting all day about what happened with Agent Woolf. The speed at which he comes at me, and the strength of his embrace, tells me that.
I fill him in quickly, and note the tension in his eyes. Yet mine are calm, as is my voice, and my body language strangely relaxed as well. In fact, it appears as though some sort of role reversal has taken place; myself now seeming more aloof and Savant-like that my actual Savant husband.
This last week has shone the spotlight further onto his true self, and so rarely do I consider him one of these people anymore. Aside from his continuing inability to properly understand my humour, and his constant misunderstanding of sarcasm, his emotional capacity seems to have become just as pronounced as a regular human.
Not an overly emotional one, perhaps, but someone like Mrs Carmichael, usually so reserved herself, and yet with the undercurrent of feeling that rises to the fore during times of stress and drama. Adryan is much the same. And I guess that’s why I’m starting to care about him so much.
We talk in quiet tones, with the walls of the apartment partially transparent to let in some of the moonlight. It’s as if we don’t want anyone looking in, anyone spying on our final night here in this nest of injustice.
So we sit and talk and go through the final stages of our plan. And again, as much as Adryan can, he offers the support he’s been giving me this whole time. Yet, beyond mere words, there’s nothing else he can do for me. I have to get a weapon. I have to impart the order into Ingrid Humbert’s mind. I have to rise up to the summit and send a bullet through Cromwell’s head.
I can see all of that in his eyes, and hear it behind his words. He knows this is all down to me, and that aside from facilitating my path here, there’s nothing more for him to do.
And I can tell, too, that he wishes he could do more. That he’d want to take the burden from me if he could, to sacrifice himself if it meant giving me a chance to get free of this place before all hell breaks loose.
Before the suggestion even rises from his lips, I see it coming. And already, I’m shaking my head.
“I could do it instead,” he tells me. “You give the order to Humbert to stop here at level 51. Tell her to allow me passage with her to the top. I’ll take the gun, and I’ll kill Cromwell myself. You’ve done enough, Brie. It doesn’t have to be you…”
I move to him as he speaks, and shut him off with a kiss. Our lips swirl together, and my palm softly presses against the gritty stubble of his cheek.
Then, slipping my lips off his, I whisper gently to him: “Thank you, Adryan. But this is my mission. And I’m the one who needs to complete it.”
I don’t allow the offer to register. If it does, I might just crumble and concede. But, in reality, as much as my own life matters to me, Adryan’s life does too. I don’t want him to be put in harm’s way. I don’t want him to take the responsibility.
This task was assigned to me. And only I can see it done.
Yet still, Adryan continues to press his claim. I smile at him as he does and find my lips drawn back to his, those silver eyes so magnetic to me as they plead for me to pass him the reins.
But I can’t. I won’t. I shake my head and speak again.
“If something goes wrong, it needs to be me. You have no powers, Adryan. Only I can do this.”
The logic in my words is undeniable, Adryan’s Savant programming demanding that he see reason. But there remains a doubt, another attempt to persuade me about to pour from his tongue.
I see it coming, and stop it at its source. Into his beautiful mind I go, and call out the order for him to relent, to leave the subject where it is.
And before his words can fall, they’re caught behind his closing mouth.
A strange sense of calm seems to pervade the place once I’ve managed to placate Adryan. Everything that needs to be discussed has been considered several times, and now I wish to simply turn my mind elsewhere.
To help me do so, my husband prepares a nice hot stew, turning to the culinary skills that are so rare here. As he dishes up, and I allow myself a single glass of wine, but no more, I ask him if he’ll teach me to cook someday.
“There’s not much to it really,” he says. “But I’ll take you through it when we reach the underlands.”
I nod, and a thought rises: I wonder if we’ll actually make it down there…
I don’t vocalise it, though. The time has passed for doubt. Instead, I tell him how much I’d love that, and bring a smile to his face. And with it that feeling of attachment inside me cements, my affections towards him growing harder to control.
Maybe, in the days and weeks and months to come, it’ll be able to flourish. Maybe this staged pairing of ours will actually transition into something real. Maybe a whole number of things will happen that I can’t predict. Because after today, maybe…just maybe…the world will open up to me in a way it never has before.
My hopes for such a thing are what fuel me. A hope to escape this place for good. A hope to join my brother and my friends in the underlands. A hope to step away from the boundaries of the city itself, and explore the wide exp
anses of the outerlands that stretch for endless miles beyond our borders.
And now, above all, a hope that Adryan and I can spend time together away from all this. Away from the pressure that drives us, the fate that we both share. Away from all the pain and suffering that we’ve both witnessed.
Because if nothing else, something good might have come out of this whole mission. Something good for me, personally, aside from the reshaping of the future, and the saving of so many souls.
And that good is Adryan.
108
I wake with a tired smile on my face on the morning of my destiny. I didn’t sleep well – how could I possibly do so – but still open my eyes to a bright sky and the firm knowledge that, today, it will all be over.
I linger in my room for a time, looking at the picture of my parents to give me strength, to guide me. And in my head, somewhere deep, I hear a voice spreading as my eyes link with the image of my father.
You can do this, Brie…you can do this…
I don’t know what it is, or who. It isn’t Zander. It isn’t a dream. It must simply be the inner voice that lives inside me, rousing me when I need it, steering my path forward when, sometimes, all I want to do is turn back.
It fades away with those words, and I let them infuse every part of me.
I can do this. I know I can. And I know, above all, that I must.
My day ahead is planned, as much as it can be at least. Adryan prepares some breakfast, trying to keep things as normal as possible, trying to keep me calm. He doesn’t need to put too much effort in, really. Right now, I feel abnormally relaxed, almost worryingly so.
It must, I suppose, be nothing but the calm before the storm. The deep breath before the plunge. When I need it, my nerves will tingle and rise and give me the focus I’ll require to complete my task. But right now, that would merely account for wasted energy. And I need to keep my reserves intact.
We spare few words before Adryan leaves for work. Even today he needs to go, to show his face and continue our deception. Yet I don’t wish for him to stay, or yearn for his company.
No, not now. Not today. Today, I just want to be alone, to set my mind to nothing but the road that lies ahead.
Tunnel vision is what I need. And right now, that’s what I have.
His kiss is warm as he drifts away. It slips from my cheek to my lips only briefly, before casting the skin it touched back into the cold. I watch him go with a steadily beating heart, knowing that I’ll see him later, before I set off on my journey to the highest reaches of this structure.
After he’s left, I shower. I stay under the water for a while, and memories of my journey down the underground river flash through my mind. They come occasionally when I find myself here, under the warm flow, or even out in the rain as it clatters down from above.
Those memories are joined by so many others, traumatic images that might just wear me down were I to give them a chance. They may still, but not right now, not yet. One day, perhaps, I’ll be tormented by my actions, by these recent events in my life.
And honestly, I hope that’s the case. Because if it is, it will mean I’ve lived through all of this, battled to a point where my life is quiet enough for such memories to take hold.
I truly hope it happens.
With the morning gathering pace, I turn my attention to my first task. I dress in my assigned attire and begin working my way down through the atrium. Turning to the front desk, I find Rebecca absent, not surprising given her working hours, and continue straight through towards the platform outside the High Tower.
Turning, I arch my neck to the summit, hiding in the fluffy white clouds that drift so casually across the sky. And as I look up, a bout of nerves flutter through me as my mind races forward, picturing the gun in my hand, the trigger being squeezed, the bullet cutting through an old man’s head.
I shake it free and cast the image aside, turning my mind back to my current objective.
One step at a time, Brie. One step at a time…
Curling around the side of the High Tower, I work my way towards the road that Compton’s Hall lies upon, the very site where I met Adryan for the first time. Next to it, the primary quarters for the Council of Matrimony wait, the drab structure fixed to the similarly dull, and yet much larger, ballroom that acts as the first point of contact for so many couples living here.
To reach them, I need to once again work through the security cordon, a test that’s become something of a habit. Mercifully, I don’t have to encounter the same force of guards as before, seeing as I’m attempting to seek passage down a different route.
The guards I find on duty appear to be a little less edgy than those I’ve faced before. Perhaps that’s owing simply to the fact that more time has passed since the assassination of Commander Fenby, and any future attacks are now considered less likely.
It wouldn’t necessarily surprise me for the state of alert to change from red to amber so quickly. In the end, the Savants barely register any concern when anything dramatic happens, and merely continue on with their lives regardless. While the regular Enhanced who comprise the City Guard aren’t the same, they take their orders from the emotionless leaders of the city, and therefore will begin to relax as they see their ‘superiors’ doing so, which always happens quickly.
There’s also the simple fact that they’ve been conditioned to act as such as well. The Enhanced, although they don’t really seem to see it, have been turned into slaves just as much as the Con-Cops have, their position as genetically modified and improved beings putting them in this sort of strange middle ground between the regular Unenhanced and the Savants.
At the end of the day, they’ll be liberated from the rule of the Consortium as much as anyone else. It’s not just the Outer Haveners who the Nameless are fighting for, but most of those here in Inner Haven too. And the City Guard certainly contribute to that number.
With no need to utilise my powers, I’m let through the cordon with the simple reasoning that I wish to visit the Council of Matrimony HQ. It feels strangely good, and rather odd, to be telling the truth for once.
Passing through, I navigate the short path towards Compton’s Hall, and head straight for the building fixed to its right. As I enter through the double doors, I find a couple of girls dressed as I am, sitting across in a small waiting area within the main foyer. Both are clearly nervous, sitting waiting to be tested for approval to marry the men they’ve been courting.
They lift their eyes to mine and probably assume I’m here for the same purpose. I was, only a week or so ago. But now my reason for being here is so very different.
I head straight for the front desk, with my first task simply to confirm that Ingrid W. Humbert is, in fact, here in the building. If not, I’ll need to slip inside the receptionist’s mind to discover her whereabouts.
Other than the woman behind the desk, and the two Unenhanced girls sitting off in the waiting area, the main hall is empty. I quickly double check with my Hawk-vision to confirm, before setting my eyes on the receptionist.
She’s the same one as before when I first came here. Lifting her eyes to mine, she immediately addresses me with my new name. Her memory is obviously rather powerful like Rebecca’s.
“Hello, Mrs Shaw,” she says. “Why are you here?”
Her manner is expectedly harsh. Like the majority of her kind, she likes to get straight to the point, no chitchat tolerated.
Good.
“I’m here to speak with High Secretary Humbert,” I announce.
She shakes her head immediately, seeing no need to check her schedule.
“You don’t have an appointment. If there’s no other reason for your presence here, please leave.”
Her eyes move off mine. She expects me to walk away. I don’t, and her eyes lift again.
“Yes?” she says.
“Is she here? Mrs Humbert, I mean?” I ask.
“I know who you mean, Mrs Shaw. Yes, of course she’s here. But you
cannot see her. Please leave.”
Her eyes return to her table-screen. I still refuse to move.
Because, while my plan was merely to confirm here presence here, and then accost her when she departs, another option quickly springs to mind.
“Um…” I say.
Her eyes lift for a final time. Her annoyance is evident, if not from any frown or angry expression, but the speed with which her next words come.
“Yes. What is it?” she snaps.
I don’t need to return fire, though. Instead, I merely flash my eyes and perform another mental miracle, forcing her to grant me entry. Her expression flattens further and the usual mist flows briefly across her eyes. Then her tune changes entirely.
“Please go ahead, Mrs Shaw,” she says. “The High Secretary is on the fifth floor at the end of the corridor at the top of the stairs.”
I smile at her with a rare show of arrogance, garnered by the powers that continue to astonish and bewilder me.
“Thank you very much for your help,” oozes my rather immodest voice. I must sound completely conceited right now, knowing that no one around here seems to be beyond my clutches.
I don’t let myself bask in the glory, though.
Get over yourself, Brie, comes my internal admonishment. And don’t get cocky! It will come back to bite you.
I remove the smile and move towards the stairs, winding around and around towards the fifth floor. The building appears to be in busy operation, and my presence does attract a few quizzical stares.
As they come, I wonder about the wisdom of this move. I hadn’t considered whether the presence of an Unenhanced up here beyond the ground floor would cause a fuss. The last thing I want is to get tongues wagging.
But, I’m here now, and there’s no turning back. So down the corridor I go, reaching the door marked with the title of the High Secretary of the Council of Matrimony, a bit of a mouthful in my book. I knock, and hear a voice spreading from inside.