‘Are we sure there’s no way back in through the Dome?’ I ask.
‘Going in at the top, especially too soon, would be dangerous when we don’t know where we’re headed.’
‘But she won’t be expecting it, and it’s a space I know.’
‘You know what they wanted you to know,’ Helena says, her voice soft.
‘I know more than they thought!’ I argue, remembering the times I tiptoed my way around up there, spying and listening. ‘And the Dome –’
‘We’ve said it’s not possible,’ a voice snaps. I’m surprised when I look up and see that Saunders is clearly exasperated. He seems exhausted. We all do.
‘I know, but –’
‘What?’ he cuts in, his palms open to the ceiling. ‘You think our stance is going to have miraculously changed and that your way will have opened up as an option?’
‘No, it’s just –’
‘We can’t get enough of us up there to make it safe. And, as Helena has repeated, it’s unpredictable.’
I open my mouth to speak but no words find their way out of my mouth. I take in his fiery eyes and remember a time when they were kinder – when he was one of my Hollys. It was only in the last few years when each Holly had been given a role and time to be with me. ‘I-concur’ Holly was with me in academic classes, a buddy to learn with. ‘Know-it-all’ Holly was, more often than not, alongside me in physical activities, which gave me a buzz when I was better than her. Then Bram’s Holly, my Holly, was there to take our friendship to the max. She unravelled my thoughts in a way no one else could. Even though I knew it was for them, I didn’t mind. I liked letting her in.
When Saunders was part of the team, I never knew which Holly I’d be faced with at any time of day. It was more haphazard – maybe there were glitches in the control room back then or teething issues: it wasn’t as smooth as it went on to become. I recall referring to Saunders’s Holly as ‘Emotional Holly’, and I would know when she was with me not only because of the subtle roundness of her eye shape, but because of her nature. She cared more than the others and wore her heart on her sleeve. Now I wonder if that was why they stopped her visits. After all, the whole point of the Hollys was to give me company, extract information, then put their ideas into my head so that I was tricked into thinking I had free thoughts. Me having to attend to a Holly’s needs got in the way of that.
The last time I saw that Holly, she had tears streaming down her cheeks because Vivian was reprimanding us for some minor misdemeanour. It wasn’t a big deal, we’d been told off before – many times, in fact – but it was as though the world was caving in on her.
It’s difficult to believe those tears came from the person in front of me. The shift in behaviour towards me stings.
‘Saunders,’ Bram hisses into his ear, giving him a little nudge in the ribs, ‘calm it.’
They lock eyes. Saunders frowns.
‘Bram, we’re the lucky ones. We got out of that shit-show unscathed,’ he says, giving me a tiny glimpse of the emotional girl I met years ago. ‘Let’s face it, they would rather we died than end up with Freevers, like we did. Others haven’t been so lucky.’
‘Lucky or not, you’re one of us now. And, as Freevers, we support Eve,’ says Helena, her voice deep and measured.
‘I know that. I’ve risked my life for her, time and time again. But this would literally be a suicide mission for me and Bram,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘We are wanted men. Eve should know that. To make sure she fully understands the impact her decision will be making on the two people she’s known longer than anyone else here.’
‘I do,’ I say, my insides knotting at the thought of anything happening to Bram, or to him. ‘As I said the other night, I’m not forcing anyone to join me.’ I’m searching for any memory of Saunders at the last meeting. He must’ve been there, but I don’t recall seeing his face or even him being part of the chanting. ‘Saunders, you’re both free to step away from this.’
‘Step away? We are traitors to their cause,’ Saunders states. ‘You saw the propaganda they’re putting out. People here might not believe their tripe, but their slaves in there will because they don’t know any different. One step into that building and I’m toast for abandoning my duty. One glimpse of Bram and they’ll shoot him dead for kidnapping their saviour.’
‘I’m saving my father,’ I remind him.
‘Very noble of you. Very selfless. But at what cost? Am I the price you’ll pay to be reunited with your dad? Is Bram? Eve, you’ve landed yourself in the best possible place and the best possible scenario. Sometimes you’ve just got to be thankful for what you have, rather than pig-headedly going for more.’
I clench my jaw to stop biting back and saying something stupid, realizing that his outburst isn’t like winning over the crowd, and that he’s far more Emotional Holly than I’ve given him credit for.
‘I’m sorry.’ He sighs, shaking his head. ‘I’m just feeling the pressure. You riled up an army out there, and while we sit in here desperately trying to hatch a plan, they’re getting increasingly agitated. I don’t want riots within the ranks.’
‘Then don’t go picking fights,’ I say. ‘I’m not asking anything of you.’
‘You say that, but how can any of us possibly allow the girl we love to walk into that danger pit alone?’
His face darkens. With a quick intake of breath he turns and exits the room, leaving an uneasy feeling in his wake.
He’s right. There’s no way past Hollys would stand by and allow me to take on such a challenging mission on my own. I’m not asking them to join me, but I’m leaving them with little choice.
I can’t bring myself even to look at Bram while I digest that thought.
20
Michael
My chest vibrates.
I glance under my duvet and the orange glow spills out into the dorm. My tag. An order.
‘Time?’ I croak.
THREE FIFTY-TWO A.M., replies an automated voice.
Something must be happening.
I yawn.
My chest buzzes again. Shit! I fell back to sleep.
‘Okay, okay, I’m up,’ I groan to nobody, as I swing my legs out of the covers and place my bare feet on the cold floor.
An orange line appears at my toes and leads out of the door, ready to guide me to my destination. I throw on my jumpsuit, slip into my boots and sleepily start to follow it.
I’m halfway out of the door before I remember my weapon belt and spin around to grab it. Gun. Knife. Pacify Glove.
Just in case.
I tap my chest.
‘Collect Dr Chaudhury and escort him to Detention Level,’ the voice instructs.
The doctor? Could Eve’s dad be ill? I mean, the guy lost his arm. Losing a limb at any age is serious, but when you’re that old? I’m surprised he’s made it this far.
I guess he did have something pretty important to live for.
I think of her.
Eve.
Again.
Her face.
My betrayal in the lift.
I pick up the pace, shaking away the thoughts and focusing on the possibility of that old man, alone in that cell, in pain. He won’t know that Eve made it out. His dramatic appearance at the Tower had to have been part of her escape, without a doubt, and it must break his heart not to know she’s safe. Perhaps that’s what keeps him fighting on.
As the lift doors glide open, Dr Chaudhury is already standing outside with a large medical case, ready to go.
‘Good morning,’ I say.
‘Is it?’ he replies, and joins me inside the spherical vehicle with a sour expression.
It’s like that then. I don’t say anything else on the descent, despite my eagerness to find out why we’re being summoned in the middle of the night. A medical emergency? Or could it perhaps be something that is better done while the Tower occupants sleep?
Okay, Michael, time to turn the paranoid conspiracy thoughts down a not
ch.
We arrive and he takes the lead, assertive and sure, like he already knows where we’re going and why we’re here.
Why don’t I know?
I quicken my pace to walk alongside him as we navigate the soulless Detention Level hallways, trying to wake my brain up and stay alert. I’m head of the Final Guard: if I’ve been ordered here it means something or someone needs guarding.
I feel the doctor’s eyes on me as we walk.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask.
His eyes flick downwards subtly, but enough for me to catch, and I see I’ve had my hand subconsciously resting over the gun on my belt.
Relax!
Empty cells stare at us as we walk by. Cold rooms awaiting occupants who are yet to commit their crimes. We pass the cell that claimed the lives of the four pilots and I shudder at the memory.
As we approach the occupied cells I notice their glass walls have been set to privacy mode, preventing the prisoners from seeing out and us from seeing in.
Why?
Dr Chaudhury stops outside Hartman’s cell, a red strip on the wall indicating that it’s occupied.
‘Please open the cell,’ he asks.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but I need authorization to allow you to visit the traitor,’ I say but the label suddenly feels disconnected from Hartman. A traitor to whom?
‘You’re authorized.’ A cutting voice behind us interrupts my wandering mind.
‘Miss Silva.’ I salute, turning to see her striding towards us with purpose, flanked by the two private soldiers who scan the hallway for potential threats, then nod at her.
All clear.
‘Miss Silva, what’s going on?’ I ask.
‘Miss Silva wants the information from the traitor immediately,’ her soldier explains, as though she’s too busy to speak for herself. ‘Open the door,’ he commands.
Miss Silva raises an eyebrow expectantly.
The breath catches in my throat.
The second session she spoke about, when Hartman would reveal what he knows: it’s tonight. Right now.
Shit!
I think about Jackson, Locke, Watts and Kramer, and I hesitate.
‘Is there a problem?’ Miss Silva asks.
‘No, Miss Silva,’ I lie, and place my hand on the glass. It defrosts, giving us a clear view of Hartman.
My heart leaps as he comes into focus. He’s standing, facing us, his arms rigid at his sides.
‘How long has he been in those cuffs?’ Dr Chaudhury asks.
‘Over twenty-four hours,’ I reply.
‘For his own safety,’ Miss Silva explains. ‘The information in his mind is too valuable for us to risk him doing something … out of our control.’
I stare at Hartman’s body being held in place by the metallic rings on his wrists and ankles. He wakes and looks back at us. At least they removed the device that kept his eyes open.
I instruct the cell to grant us entry and the seamless door in the glass opens. Miss Silva enters, followed by one of her two soldiers. The other takes position outside the cell.
‘Join us, Commander Turner.’ Miss Silva speaks from inside. It’s a clear instruction and one I cannot decline. I step in and the glass reseals itself behind me.
‘Mute cell,’ Miss Silva commands.
The air is stale and hot. I see beads of sweat on Hartman’s face. The doctor rests his case in the centre of the room and the soldier takes position by the frosted glass, mirroring the subtle silhouette of his partner on the other side.
‘Good evening, Hartman. We are here to gather the information you have. I hope that now you’ve had some time to reflect on our last encounter you will be ready to make a more sensible decision.’
Hartman’s mouth remains firmly closed. His eyes dart between Miss Silva, the soldier, the doctor and myself. They are scared eyes. Tired. Traumatized. The eyes of a man who has witnessed awful things.
‘I think this time you’ll find it easier to share your thoughts with us.’
An awful expectant silence hangs in the room.
He’s not giving in yet.
Good.
I’m momentarily caught off guard by these thoughts, this unexpected support for someone who has betrayed the organization I’m a part of.
He’s betrayed them, not Eve.
I try to convince myself that I simply don’t want to see another man die, but buried beneath that is a glimpse of a truth I’m only starting to uncover …
I’m with you, Hartman.
Miss Silva nods to Dr Chaudhury and the light catches the sweat on his Adam’s apple as he gulps.
The doctor kneels on the floor beside his case and opens it. I peer over his shoulder while Miss Silva slowly tours the perimeter of the cell, keeping her distance from us as though we’re infected with some contagious disease and she might catch it simply by being in close proximity to us.
It’s difficult to see inside the medical bag but placed on top, in the centre, is something I recognize. It’s a visor, like the ones the pilots used to operate Holly in the Dome. I don’t know a single person in this building who didn’t wish they could put one on and experience life through Holly’s eyes. Feel that connection with Eve.
‘Obviously you recognize the hardware,’ Miss Silva says, as Chaudhury prepares the headgear.
Hartman says nothing.
‘But you’ll soon notice Dr Wells has made some modifications,’ Miss Silva says. ‘Consider it an upgrade.’
Dr Chaudhury places the visor over Hartman’s head of shaggy brown hair.
‘Wells. I want to … speak to Wells,’ Hartman croaks.
‘If you think your former boss will sympathize with your current predicament, I’m afraid you’re delusional, Mr Hartman. Dr Wells and I have fully aligned opinions on your future,’ Miss Silva says, without even looking at him.
‘This is going to be unlike anything you’ve experienced before,’ Dr Chaudhury warns. ‘The more you resist the worse it will be. I highly recommend that you reveal the information now to prevent this from happening.’
Hartman returns to his silent state, his lips trembling with resistance. I can’t help but like him.
No, admire him.
We never had any conversations. Never even met, other than him standing over me in that lift as I clutched my throbbing face where Bram’s fist had connected with it.
Shame. He seems like a good man.
I sigh. He’s just a kid, really. We all are. But this is no game we’re playing now.
‘You may begin, Dr Chaudhury,’ Miss Silva orders, and the doctor closes his eyes in disappointment.
‘Please, Hartman, the alternative to giving Miss Silva what she wants is not worth it,’ Dr Chaudhury practically begs, resisting the order to start the torture.
‘Not worth it?’ Hartman cracks. ‘Not worth it? Do you think I want to be tortured? Do you think I wanted to see my friends killed? Do you think I wanted to risk my life and the lives of every person I’ve ever loved? No, Doctor. No. I did it because my friends needed me to. Because Eve needed me to. I did it because they believed it was the right thing, and for that reason I do too, and I will die before uttering a single word that might result in bringing Eve back to this place.’
Dr Chaudhury sighs.
‘Die? Hartman, we don’t want you to die. We want you to live as long as it takes to tell us what we need to know. Only then will we grant you the luxury of dying. Doctor, you may begin,’ Miss Silva instructs firmly, taking position against the frosted glass, giving her a clear view of whatever is about to happen.
The state-of-the-art contraption is slipped over Hartman’s head and the screen illuminates his face.
‘So far not so different from the model you and Bram were running. Here’s where it changes,’ Miss Silva says, nodding to Dr Chaudhury, who returns to his case and removes a long, metallic cannula.
‘What’s that for?’ The words escape from my mouth.
‘The transfusion,’ Dr Chaudhu
ry replies, nervously preparing the equipment.
‘He’s receiving blood?’ I ask.
‘Not blood, Mr Turner. Something far more exciting than that. Memories,’ Miss Silva replies in her cold, emotionless, matter-of-fact tone.
‘Memories?’ Hartman utters from behind the visor.
‘Yes,’ she confirms, refusing to share any more details on this strange memory transfusion.
I’ll just have to pay attention then.
‘Hold still, please,’ Dr Chaudhury says to Hartman.
‘Well, I’m hardly fucking going anywhere,’ he replies, stuck rigid in his invisible chains as the doctor connects the cannula to the rear of the visor. Two small needles automatically extend from within the visor and position themselves over Hartman’s temples.
What the hell is that for?
Chaudhury follows the tube down to his medical case, which he opens fully, revealing the device inside.
‘That’s a datastore,’ Hartman says, peering around the thin gap of his visor.
‘Correct, Hartman. It is clear to me why you were the best at your job. Wells always said you had potential. It is a shame it will be wasted,’ Miss Silva spits.
‘I’m sorry, it’s a what?’ I interrupt.
‘It’s a box of information,’ Hartman explains. ‘Lots of information from the size of it. What’s in it?’ Hartman asks.
‘I already told you, memories,’ Miss Silva says, ‘and not just any memories. You see, thanks to Dr Wells, we are now able to map the human mind better than we ever have before. It is a complex organic computer storing an unfathomable amount of information. Unlocking that information is –’
‘Impossible. You can’t store memories,’ Hartman interrupts. ‘Quit the bullshit scare-tactics and get this over with.’
‘Not impossible, Hartman. Incredibly difficult, but not impossible. Let’s not forget this organization has been built on the things people said were impossible, yet here we are.’ Miss Silva grins. ‘Not only is memory extraction possible but through this device you will not only visualize and see a memory, but feel it as though it were your own experience.’
The Eve Illusion Page 12
