‘Why?’
‘I might be callous but you were only a baby, and an important one for the watching eyes of the world.’
‘How touching,’ I say drily.
‘Don’t settle for that shit,’ shouts Bram. ‘Your age had nothing to do with it. He doesn’t have a heart. He’s a psychopath. Eve, you were too valuable to kill because without you he and his insane ideas would’ve been kicked out of this building years ago.’
‘And there’s that,’ Wells concedes, with a nod of agreement. Taking a deep breath, he paces the room, slowly meandering around the three of us. ‘I needed the people out there to watch you grow, fall in love with you and believe in everything we’re doing here. You living in the Tower made them trust us. I needed them to believe in the wonder of your existence as much as you did. The Eve illusion brings hope to a nation – no, a generation – gagging to find faith and purpose.’
‘So, I’m the Trojan Horse? An offering?’
‘Hardly, but good to know you enjoyed your history lessons. The Mothers would’ve been pleased to know that,’ he says, before bringing his hand to his lips. ‘It seems I’m dropping revelations all over the place. They just keep spilling. Yes, Eve. Your loyal team here have dispersed. No longer living the high life, as it were … Collateral damage for your little stunt. A shame. And all because of you.’
‘Ignore him, Eve,’ Bram calls.
It’s too late for that. My heart is breaking at the thought of what he’s done to them and where they might be now. My carers. My friends. My mothers. All put in danger because of me.
But I never wanted any of this.
‘I was happy to keep Vivian’s vision ticking over,’ Wells continues, his words carelessly stampeding through my torment. ‘I knew it would eventually fail and I just had to bide my time. Vivian’s elaborate setup here was the perfect façade for me to develop my own vision, my own answer to the extinction threat. When the time was right I would be ready.’
Dr Wells walks around the room as he tells us more, relieved to share his project – or perhaps it’s meant as an extra form of torture for the three of us to see how we’ve helped him achieve his goal. We came back, and now we’re here for his victory dance.
‘The EPO were clever. They built the Tower. Set it up to be a self-sustainable city, a safe fortress on Earth to protect the last remaining members of the human race from the harsh environment of our destructive planet. If you were ever going to repopulate Earth, it was going to start inside this tower. An Ark in the flood.’
‘But you’ve never wanted it for that,’ says Michael, who has been quietly listening.
‘Not in the same way others did,’ he says. ‘I was giving them a solution to the epidemic. I told them it was temporary. A solution to preserve the body and use the mind while we discovered a cure for the gender drought.’
‘Do you remember the trails that used to go out, Michael?’ Bram asks, as though recalling a funny memory from school. ‘It was an animation. A fluffy cloud being taken from a person’s brain while the body drifted into a huge canister – separated while some upbeat jig of a song played underneath. Then a computer-generated image of a young woman popped up on screen, sounding serene as she gave the sales pitch.’
‘“Freeze your physical body and allow your consciousness, your mind, to live without restriction,”’ Michael says, with ease, making me wonder how many times these words have been heard. ‘“When the time comes your Projectant-self will unfreeze your physical body, and allow you to reproduce and repopulate the Earth once again.”’
In the silence that follows, I imagine the homes this was played into, thinking of the people sitting on their sofas and taking comfort from the idea while cuddled up to their loved ones. ‘How many people signed up?’
‘Enough for there to be floors’ worth of people floating in Cold Storage,’ says Bram.
‘It was a success, and continues to thrive,’ states Wells. ‘It’s only the beginning of the tale, of course. Once inhabitants begin seeing what we’re offering no one wants to return. Our thoughts can take us much further than our bodies,’ he explains, patting his chest. ‘If anything, these decaying prisons of bones and flesh hold us back from our full potential. Our minds, our thoughts are what have made us so powerful. We’ve created a world too advanced for Earth. No,’ he says, shaking his head vigorously. ‘Thought is the essence of humanity, the anchor of our brilliance. That is what’s worth saving, and now we can live as thought for ever. Through my work I’ve found a way for our immortal minds to interact.’ Dr Wells grins. ‘Vivian believed in you, Eve, but even their saviour can’t offer anyone a forever existence. My Projectants can.’
‘It’s barbaric,’ says Michael, his nose screwed up in disgust.
‘Oh, I agree. The things you have done have been quite barbaric,’ nods Wells, walking up to him and jabbing him in the chest. ‘Do you remember Hartman, Bram?’ he asks, innocently looking over his shoulder.
Michael’s face falls, speechlessly turning to Bram, who is making sense of what he’s hearing, desperately looking from his father to Michael. The look of horror on Michael’s face confirms his fears. Bram’s best friend is no more – and, by the sound of it, Michael played a significant part in his death.
Bram is unable to stop his anger flaring. He attempts to plunge forward. His cuffs stop him. I can imagine the pain searing through his body as he repeatedly yanks at his limbs, his shoulders and chest fighting for freedom. He’s aching to get to Michael or Dr Wells – wanting someone to feel his pain.
I do.
41
Eve
‘I was shocked too, Bram,’ Dr Wells says sympathetically, while placing a hand over Michael’s shoulder, his firm grip causing his knuckles to go white. ‘I’d like to say it was peaceful, but sadly it was quite a horrific event. I can replay it, if you like,’ he offers, raising a hand in the same way Vivian did.
‘Don’t,’ pleads Michael.
‘No,’ adds Bram, unable to look at either of them.
Dr Wells rolls his eyes. ‘I understand. It’s not easy to accept who we truly are. Or how our decisions alter our paths and that of those around us.’
‘I haven’t been allowed a single decision in my whole life,’ I remind him.
‘Oh, but you have. If you’d carried on with it all, I was happy to let you be. You could’ve met your match while the world watched, had your little ceremony and then eventually failed to bear a child. I would’ve allowed you to wither away up there while their interest waned. It would’ve made no difference to my plans.’
‘I wouldn’t have failed,’ I argue. I’d like to think I would’ve given the world what it so longed for. That I still will – in my own time and on my own terms.
‘You are an anomaly,’ he says dismissively. ‘Don’t fret, you have still played your part in the survival of our species. If it weren’t for your birth, none of this would’ve been possible.’
‘Because you auctioned her off to the highest bidder to fund your crusade,’ states Bram, his contempt for his father growing. ‘Where’d the Potentials come from, Dad? The sons of rich investors? Random men with their own agenda? No wonder Diego found his way in.’
A memory of that man’s hands around Mother Nina’s neck flashes before me.
‘He could’ve killed her!’ argues Michael.
Not an ounce of expression passes across Dr Wells’s face.
‘Did you care about me at all? About any of us?’ I ask, the question strangled in my throat as I remember that my life has been in his hands the whole time.
‘I don’t care for sentiment.’ He shrugs. ‘But you’ve been good for ensuring the EPO retains its power in today’s world, and that power made my work possible.’
Laughter spills out of me. I can’t contain it, even though I know nothing about this situation is funny. This despicable man has made a mockery of us all: he’s played us, made each and every one of us disposable, as though our own dreams, feelings and
thoughts are inferior to his ambition.
‘Good until now,’ I remind him. Until now I’ve been his homing device, his beacon of light giving comfort to everyone out there, but now I’m his biggest threat.
‘You have become a liability,’ he concedes. ‘I certainly can’t let you leave.’
‘The truth must stay here within the Tower.’
‘The truth is that I’m offering more than you ever will, and spouting your nonsense will simply hinder their final chance of happiness.’
‘The truth is that you’re a narcissistic bastard,’ shoots Bram.
‘Must’ve got that mouth from his mother,’ Dr Wells says, his voice monotone and unfeeling. ‘As fascinating as this is, I have things to be getting on with, so let’s get this over with, shall we? Actually, while we’re all here,’ he says, stopping next to me and turning to face Bram and Michael, ‘Eve, it’s no secret that these two fools have fallen for you. The last girl standing and they both thought they had a chance.’ He snorts. ‘Why don’t you enlighten us? Looking at them both – if I were to let you choose – who would have been your match? They’re both useless to me now. Without you around to amuse, manipulate or protect, they’re surplus to requirements. I have no need or desire to have them living in the building yet, for obvious reasons, neither can leave.’ As he talks, his words rushed and careless, he takes a gun from his belt and dangles it by his side. ‘Which one would you keep?’
Is this a game? A trick? Might he spare the person I choose? My heart instantly goes to say Bram, but my head stops me.
Bram. I’ve already put him in so much danger.
I might only just have met Dr Wells, but with his love of games, I wouldn’t be surprised if he kills whoever I pick. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Neither would I disrespect Bram or Michael in that way. Regardless of love, they’ve both risked their lives to protect me.
‘Neither.’
‘Hear that?’ cackles Dr Wells. ‘You really are surplus to everyone’s requirements. Such a shame.’
He takes a breath, glancing down at his gun as he prepares to lift it. His hand lingers over it. I watch the hesitation, the briefest flicker of regret, of sorrow, and know exactly who he plans to take aim at.
As he looks up, his hand starts moving through the air, the gun going to target his victim, I yank my arm with as much force as I can muster. The cuff cracks open. One arm free, then the other, the open restraints seeming to automatically disengage the others. One foot loose, then free, then the other. I fly through the air, my body tensing as I leap on to Dr Wells. My body collides with his just as his finger pulls the trigger and the sound of a single gunshot echoes across the room.
42
Bram
Pain slashes across my biceps, like a hot knife slicing through butter. The high-pitched zing of the bullet, rushing past so close to my head, deafens me momentarily and I lose my breath.
I wince and fall to the floor.
But I’m alive.
I shake off the burning pain in my arm and try to ignore the warmth of the blood collecting in deep red blotches on my jumpsuit against the cold of my goose-pimpled skin.
‘Eve!’ Michael screams, bringing my hearing back into focus.
I look up and see her restraints lying on the floor.
The bullet! I suddenly realize. When Michael shot through Vivian’s projection Eve was directly behind. It must have hit her cuffs.
‘Eve, watch out!’ Michael screams again, tugging at the restraints on his own wrists, which root him to the spot.
Too close to take another shot at me, my father swings the gun at her head but she ducks out of the way. She lands a kick in his ribs and, with the sound of cracking bone, he stumbles back into the solid glass of Ernie’s cell.
The old man musters the energy to pound on the wall by my father’s head, causing him to turn, and, for a moment, he and Ernie are eye to eye, Eve’s father and mine, face to face yet worlds apart: one giving his life for his daughter, the other trying to take the life of his son.
Eve’s attack is swift. Her moves are well practised, precise and loaded with adrenalin. With nowhere to go, her jab to his jaw and a kick to the knee land perfectly but the threat of the gun in his hand is still very real.
He tries to raise it but Eve swings again. The glasses fly from my father’s wrinkled face as he ducks just in time to avoid her fist. He counters suddenly with a sharp shove to her chest and she stumbles backwards.
The gap between them is what he needs.
He raises the gun and takes aim at her, but her speed is her strength. Faster and more agile even than his mind, she adjusts her weight and throws herself back towards him, closing the gap between herself and the barrel of his gun without hesitation, then dropping to her knees at the last moment and sliding across the concrete until she connects with his legs, taking him down.
Another shot rings out but the bullet bores itself into the concrete ceiling, releasing a cloud of grey powder and dust on to us.
I feel totally helpless.
I am totally helpless, as is Michael.
All we can do is watch as my father scrambles back to his feet, wisps of his grey hair poking out in all directions, making him look every bit the crazed psychopathic murderer that he actually is.
‘Eve, look out!’ Michael calls again as my father’s gun-wielding arm swings up for another attempt but she’s lost momentarily in the watching eyes of her father through the glass of his cell.
The trigger is pulled.
My stomach flips and my breath catches in my throat.
The shot misses.
Just.
There is an ear-splitting crack of the bullet connecting with the impenetrable wall of Ernie’s cell and rebounding in a shower of sparks as it ricochets around us, causing us instinctively to cover our heads.
I look up just in time to see a fierce, determined, jaw-set Eve throw a series of punches and blocks, kicks and throws that totally overwhelm my father.
He’s on the back foot, swinging pathetically in any direction he can while Eve lands a fist on his nose, a side-palm to his throat, and a final kick to his chest that brings his feet off the floor and sends him falling backwards into the wall, his gun spinning away from him.
Eve spots it, and while he clutches his bruised throat trying to catch his breath, she picks it up and takes aim.
‘Do it,’ I say, without thinking.
Eve hesitates.
‘Don’t think, Eve, just pull the trigger,’ Michael shouts.
My father turns and slides himself backwards across the floor, one hand clutching his broken rib in obvious pain.
‘She won’t, Michael. She’s not a killer like you.’ He spits blood on the floor.
The gun fires without warning and the wall next to my father’s head explodes into pieces of crumbled concrete, leaving behind a fresh bullet-hole.
‘You don’t have the first idea who I am or what I’m capable of,’ Eve says, re-aiming the gun at his head. ‘Now, release their cuffs.’
My father slowly reaches his shaking hand into the inside pocket of his now dust-covered jacket and pulls out a spherical remote. He presses down firmly with his thumb and the red strip of lights on our cuffs turn green as they loosen and click open.
Michael shakes his off before me and is at Eve’s side.
‘The gun, Eve,’ he says, holding out his hand for the weapon.
‘No, get my father out of there.’ Her voice is firm and decisive. She’s in control.
Michael obeys, rushing to the cell and placing his hand on the glass. The control panel illuminates, giving him access, and in a few moments the cell door appears and opens.
‘My Eve …’ Ernie’s voice cracks as he stumbles out into the corridor, looking frailer than I’ve ever seen him.
‘Dad.’ Eve sobs as they fall into each other’s arms.
They have no more words for each other. Ernie holds his daughter’s face in his palm and examines her like
a precious, fragile object. Her eyes return the admiration and love.
In the moment, I take my eyes off my father, distracted by the reunion. He doesn’t miss a beat.
He throws himself across the corridor in a split second, ignoring the injuries he sustained from Eve, slamming his hand on to the red emergency button on the control panel still illuminated on the glass of Ernie’s cell.
I push past Michael and lunge after him, stretching out with all my strength as the entrance to the cell begins to close, going into emergency lockdown, but he slips inside through the shrinking gap in the glass wall.
I slam against the sealed cell wall and pound my fist against it.
‘Open it!’ I scream at Michael over the deafening siren that’s now wailing throughout the Detention Level, accompanied by red lighting to indicate an emergency.
‘I can’t now. He’s triggered an emergency, the cells are totally sealed,’ he replies.
‘You coward!’ I roar at the glass. ‘You’re just going to hide in there and let everyone else do your dirty work for you. I guess hiding is all you’ve ever done.’
He replies with a splutter of laughter.
‘What the hell is funny?’ I yell at my father.
Michael suddenly clutches his chest, his tag buzzing frantically beneath his clothes.
Lines suddenly illuminate on the floor.
I look at my father and spot a device clutched in his fist, sending orders to the Final Guard.
‘We’ve got to go, now! They’ll be coming for us, look,’ Michael shouts over the deafening alarm, pointing to the orange-yellow line tracing from his position to my father. ‘He’s called for the guards to come here.’
‘Go where? You won’t make it out of this building alive, especially not with him.’ My father points at Ernie, while laughing through the pain of his injuries at the helplessness of our situation.
‘I’ve done it twice. I can do it again,’ I say, pulling Ernie’s arm over my shoulder. I head towards the lift. ‘Let’s go, now!’
The Eve Illusion Page 25
