by Eliza Green
Dom had to know.
‘They are part of a different programme. Only the younger ones were part of your test.’
‘Were you butchering them?’ said Anya.
‘The Collective has not harmed them. If anything, they are better than before. They are also not your concern.’ Quintus paused. ‘Without sacrifice, we will never know what we can become.’
‘And what did I sacrifice?’ Dom let go of Anya’s hand. He spoke slowly. ‘What lesson did I learn when you cut me open—’
‘Dom...’ said Sheila, softly.
He ignored her. ‘What lesson did you need to teach a terrified seven-year-old?’ His voice rose in pitch. ‘What had I done to deserve your attention?’
‘Nothing, Dominic. Nothing at all. You were just in the right place at the right time.’
‘The right place?’ Dom laughed and ran a hand over his head, across his neck. He turned away.
‘Dominic’s sacrifices were not in vain. Neither were the children’s. They gave us the knowledge to better ourselves.’
Dom turned back around, his eyes flashing with anger.
‘Anya, you asked what the tunnel was for,’ said Quintus. ‘When you pass through the first archway, your experiences, your time in Arcis, will be downloaded to our memory banks so our Copies might learn. You have already met a selection of our most recent creations. They have acted as your supervisors during your time here. We created many versions of them, some better than the last, others worse. Each time new participants complete the programme we learn something new to perfect the algorithms. The presence of rebels in our programme has given us a richer experience. We have learned about hate, revenge, hope, grief and even love.’
‘You said there were three parts to the machine,’ said June. ‘What’s the second part for?’
‘The second will only sting for a moment.’
‘What will sting?’Anya asked, swallowing loudly.
‘The third will take you to a place where you will continue to be useful to us.’
‘Useful? How?’
‘For whatever we deem necessary, in whatever capacity we need.’
‘Why are you telling us all of this?’ said Anya. And where the hell was Jason?
Quintus paused, as if he were consulting with one of the Collective.
‘Your group was the most interesting. We particularly liked seeing how you, Anya Macklin, changed your mind about the rebels. When you started here, you were convinced they had killed your parents. The Collective wishes to know why you doubted the authenticity of that story.’
‘I thought they had, until I met some in real life.’
‘What gives credence to those doubts? You bore witness to your parents’ murder.’ Dom stiffened beside her. She hadn’t told him about that. ‘You believed it was the rebels. Yet it only took your relationship with Dominic, whom we know to be a rebel, to change your mind.’
Quintus’ questions, his curiosity; it all sounded so childlike. ‘It wasn’t just that,’ she said. ‘The truth is always there, in among the lies. You just need to read the signs.’
‘What signs?’
‘It’s hard to put into words.’ She feared she had said too much.
Quintus’s voice was neutral, careful again. ‘Yes, it usually is. That’s why the first part of the machine is so important. It downloads your experiences, exactly as they happened.’
‘Where is my mother?’ said Dom.
‘She’s waiting for you in Essention. That is where the machine will take you.’
‘I’m not walking through that thing until you explain—’
The door to the rear of the room opened suddenly. Jason appeared and Anya gasped with relief. But then she saw the handgun Supervisor One was pointing at his head.
‘Jason!’
‘Anya.’ He tried to go to her, but the supervisor restrained him. An adult and four others around Jason’s age followed, all with guns resting against the backs of their heads. They were dressed in the Essention uniform. The fourth boy, tall and thin with brown hair, clutched a bag to his chest.
‘Max!’ Sheila called out.
‘Dom, Sheila, June. Are you alright?’
‘They’re forcing us to go through the machine.’
‘And you will,’ said Quintus.
As the new arrivals moved further into the room, Anya saw the Copies more clearly. Some were identical, others varied in appearance. She had suspected for some time that the male supervisors were not all the same.
‘The Collective has learned a thing or two about sacrifice since the programme first began,’ said Quintus. ‘But we learned the most when you answered our questions on the seventh floor.’
No! Don’t make me choose...
‘So it is very simple. The longer you wait, the more of you will die.’
Anya couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t. Nobody else would die. In the test, she had told them she would sacrifice herself.
Anya stepped forward.
Dom yanked her back. ‘Anya, what are you doing?’
‘We almost had a volunteer there,’ said a different voice. ‘Perhaps she needs a little encouragement, Quintus?’
She heard a sharp bang and stumbled back. The boy holding the bag crumpled to the floor.
‘Preston!’ yelled Jason. He tried to go to him, but the supervisor restrained him.
Blood trickled along the cold, grey tiles. The boy stared blankly at the ceiling.
Another bang. Another body.
Then a third bang. Two of the boy soldiers dropped.
Max, Jason and the third remaining soldier stood stiffly, handguns pressed against their heads.
When the Copy next to Jason shifted slightly, Anya twisted out of Dom’s grip.
‘Stop, Quintus. I’ll go. I volunteer. Please. No more.’
‘No. Anya, wait.’ Dom stepped forward. ‘I’ll take her place. Take me.’
‘No replacements,’ said Quintus.
‘Then we’ll go together.’
‘And only one at a time.’
Anya stared at the ceiling through blurred vision, searching for a glimpse of Quintus.
‘What will happen to me when I walk through the first archway?’
‘You will lose your memory of this place and the people you’ve met here.’
No.
She glanced back at Dom. ‘Everyone?’
‘Yes. It will be as it was before you came to this place. You will continue to believe the rebels killed your parents.’
She had to remember, she would try to remember.
‘But it wasn’t the rebels. It was you.’ She said it as much for herself as for her brother. She smiled sadly at Jason. He wriggled in his captor’s grip.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Jason.’
‘This isn’t the end, Anya.’
She turned to look at Dom one last time. He was a mess. His hand was in his hair, his unflinching gaze on her. She almost changed her mind.
Almost.
‘Don’t forget me, Dom.’
‘No!’ His voice was tight with emotion. He went to her, and crushed his lips to hers. Their final kiss was fierce, rough and desperate, like they both knew it would be their last.
If Arcis hadn’t forced them together, would they have become friends?
She wanted to believe they would.
‘I’ll find you, Anya,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion.
She broke away, unable to look him in the eye, to see the pain he was in.
She nodded at June and Sheila. June had her fingers pressed to her lips. Sheila was shaking her head, tears in her eyes. Anya nodded to a shocked Yasmin. She was beginning to understand.
‘We’ll find your mother together,’ she whispered to Dom. ‘I promise.’ She turned back and stepped towards the machine.
Quintus spoke again. ‘This experience will be erased from your memories, but it will make a great addition to ours. The Collective saved you from the rebels. And now you will fr
ee us from our imprisonment.’
Anya squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm her galloping pulse.
She opened them and climbed the three steps to the first archway and the blinking white lights.
Her body shook as she took another step forward.
57
Their voices faded into the background.
Her memories of recent conversations sped up and slowed down, then fell softly away. Visions of beasts with yellow eyes and sharp incisors flashed before her and disappeared.
Jason’s birthday. Their arguments.
Her jealousy towards Sheila.
She reached out for all of them, eager to lock them away in her heart and keep them safe. But her fingers only clutched at air.
More memories tore loose from her mind.
Tahlia’s pink hair.
Lilly’s enthusiasm before Ash.
Warren forcing himself on her.
She shivered and tasted blood in her mouth.
The arch vibrated through her hands and feet. The vibrations seemed like a memory, too, but even that wasn’t clear.
She thought she saw Jason to her left with a gun to his head.
She shook away the distraction and concentrated on what would soon be no more. How Dom felt against her; his urgent kisses, his soft curls threaded through her fingers. The way he looked at her—softly, tenderly—when they were alone. The things he said, the way he said them. Every intimate conversation they had ever had. Every place they had talked together.
Each memory danced away like a feather caught on the wind.
Her most recent memories of Dom remained. Her heart soared.
I still remember him.
She frowned.
But she couldn’t remember how they had met.
Lullabies and screaming babies kept her from focusing. She had to remember Dom. She had to remember June and Sheila, Tahlia, Frank, Jerome. Even Warren.
‘Please step forward,’ said a voice she had never heard before.
The second archway twinkled with blue. The lights dazzled her as they merged into a single glowing slash that swept the length of her, twice. It stung a little.
And then she forgot why she was there.
‘Just one more,’ said the voice. ‘Please step forward.’
Anya stared at her feet, then up at the last archway, the last set of lights: bright green like grass caught in sunshine. Sparkling like light reflecting on water.
The space in the final archway looked like a mirror. She reached out to touch a face that resembled her own. She squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden bright light.
I’m supposed to keep going.
She remembered that much, but not why.
It felt as though some invisible force drew her to the mirror; as if it marked the end of something old and the beginning of something new.
She closed her eyes.
Voices screamed her name. One voice in particular.
Deep, husky, strained.
A strange energy pulled her forward.
One step more.
The mirror.
It contained so much power. She felt it in her fingertips. She felt it shake her bones.
It enveloped her, like warm water in a bath, slipping over her skin.
The deep voice yelled, ‘Don’t forget.’ She took her final step.
58
The brightness faded.
She sensed objects all around her; objects she couldn’t see. Slowly, everything came into focus.
She stood in a partitioned white room with a low ceiling, a white-tiled floor and no obvious door.
As though she saw everything for the first time, she searched the space for some hint of familiarity. She looked down to see she wore a white dress with capped sleeves.
When had she ever worn a dress?
Movement behind startled her and forced her round.
Others were in the room, four in total: a tall boy-man with dark hair and dark eyes and three blonde girls; one with wiry hair, another with hair as fine as silk and a third who looked like... looked like... who was so... proportionately accurate.
She stared at the last girl, mesmerised by her face, her beauty. She didn’t think it was possible to look like that. The perfect creature stared at her.
She looked away, looked back to see the others picking at the fabric of their white clothes.
The male drew her eye. He had a complexion the colour of milky tea and dark brown hair with a soft curl. His eyes were a fascinating shade of trouble. Deep, curious, dangerous. He was the only one not interested in his clothes. He was more interested in the room.
Then his eyes found hers.
His unblinking stare unnerved her but she held his gaze. Then he turned and touched the perfect creature’s arm.
‘Sheila.’ He said in a soft and deep voice. ‘Where the hell are we?’
The perfect creature turned to him. ‘I’ve no idea.’
He stared at Sheila a moment longer, his brow furrowed, his eyes questioning.
A pang of jealousy hit her as she watched the male and Sheila together. She looked away.
She walked to the other side of the room, looking for a way out.
She pressed her hand to the partitioned walls made of a white, opaque material. Movement behind her startled her.
‘I thought about doing that,’ said the man.
She spun around to face him.
‘I’m Dom. What’s your name?’
My name? Deep breath. My name. I know this.
‘Anya.’
Dom nodded, watching her as she continued to press her hand to the panels.
‘If they can put us in here,’ she said, ‘there’s got to be a way out.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Dom.
She stole a glance at him.
His eyes pressed into every inch of the walls. He moved to the other side of the room and pushed on each panel.
The others mimicked his actions, and soon they all felt their way along the walls. But nothing was revealed.
They came together.
‘Why are we here?’ said Sheila.
‘What’s the last thing each of you remember?’ said Dom.
Everyone’s answer was the same: home. Only the town differed.
A noise outside the room caught Anya’s attention. One of the panels slid to the side.
A new light stung Anya’s eyes. The sun. The room filled with now people dressed in white. Some wore medical suits and carried green medical kits. One woman, dark-skinned and in her forties, wore the most vivid green dress Anya had ever seen. Long and flowing with capped sleeves. She admired it until her painful eyes began to tear up.
‘You must be disorientated,’ said the woman in the green dress. ‘You’ve been in here for two days.’
‘And where’s here?’ said Dom, shielding his eyes.
‘This is Praesidium.’
He stepped forward. ‘I demand to know why you have locked us in this room.’
‘Precautions, Mr Pavesi. You, in particular, carry diseases from the outside world. The Collective deemed it necessary to quarantine you for a short while.’
The presence of a medical team made sense to Anya. Her mind flashed back to a memory of someone hovering over her in a similar white suit. She looked up to see the woman pointing at her.
‘This one comes with me.’
A man in white grabbed her arm, prompting Dom to block him.
‘Wait. Where are you taking her?’
‘She has been designated to work alongside me in the library,’ said the woman.
Anya resisted the man, but his grip was too strong.
He dragged her outside where her eyes stung worse.
The man sat her in the back seat of an open-sided car.
‘Sit with her,’ said the man to the woman in green. He climbed into the front.
The woman slid into the seat beside Anya, and the car moved off. Was it hovering? It felt too smooth to have tyres.
&nbs
p; Anya pressed her fingers to her eyes to stem the pain. But the tears kept coming.
She blinked a couple of times. She could make out square and rectangular shapes, blues and greens fluttering in the wind. Flags, perhaps?
Green grass lined the edges of road they were travelling on. White shapes, multicoloured shapes. People. Their clothes.
She had a vague memory of visiting Praesidium. And the library.
She remembered Brookfield. Jason.
‘Why am I here? I want to go home. I need to find my brother. He’ll be worried—’
‘You are home, Anya,’ said the woman. ‘Please stay still.’ She took a silver box from the man sitting in the front. She opened it and removed a syringe.
‘She’s not ready,’ said the man. ‘She needs time to adjust.’
Anya frowned at the syringe. ‘What’s that for? Why am I here?’
‘Hush, now,’ said the woman, pressing on the end of the syringe. She expelled the air and a small squirt of liquid fell onto her lap.
Anya recoiled as the woman leaned forward. She held Anya’s arm steady.
‘Hold still. This will only hurt for a moment.’
‘Please. I don’t want—Stop.’
The woman jabbed the syringe into Anya’s upper arm, and the action release a memory of Dom injecting her in the same way.
‘I don’t want this.’ She trailed off, feeling her eyes get heavy.
‘We’re almost there. Just rest now.’
‘Why do you placate her like that?’ the man asked.
‘I need her calm. They’re more difficult to manage if they’re agitated.’
Anya’s tongue thickened. ‘What did you give—’
‘Something to help you to relax.’
Her eyelids drooped. The world around her slipped away. She closed her eyes for a second.
Ω
Anya blinked twice and stared up at a dark ceiling. Around her, shelves were stuffed with more books than she could have imagined.
The library.
But the room she was in was dark and cramped, unlike the open, light-filled space she remembered.
The dark-skinned woman hovered over her, smiling.
‘Good. You’re awake.’
Anya sat up too fast. Her head pounded. ‘Who are you? What am I doing—’
