Lana had to retrieve her work pass from inside her bag then hit it against the reader on the wall—that meant taking her eyes off her.
Still no guards.
Never moving her eyes from the woman, she took a tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped the spray from her face. She felt inside her bag for her pass, and as discreetly as possible she slipped it out and waved it behind her, near where she thought the reader was.
The door released with a soft click.
Lana breathed out with relief then noticed the woman unzipping her own bag. From inside it, a glint of light caught her eye. What did a crazy woman carry inside her bag? Lana wasn’t waiting to find out.
Lana bumped the door open with her backside and stepped back into a hall lined with empty mail boxes.
The woman was too preoccupied with her bag to notice Lana disappearing inside.
But the noise of the door closing snapped the old woman back to the present. She banged her fist on the closed door. A silver crucifix on a chain wrapped tight around her hand scraped the glass, carving at it like nails down a blackboard.
The old woman would have tried to exorcise her. How could she be so certain Lana was wrong when she was the one filled with hate?
She peered through the darkened glass searching for Lana, but she could not see her trembling behind it, wondering if she should scream or cry.
Lana did neither. Trailing her flat hand along the wall to steady herself, she climbed the stairs, and at the sixth floor she waited behind the door to the lab, taking deep breaths. She would never get used to hate.
Chapter Four
Lana pulled the lab door open, and the team let out a whoop of delight. At first she thought it was for her. Her face even flushed hot. But nobody had noticed her, and she felt like a fool and not for the first time today. Callum must have told them the news.
She jerked her head back when she saw Callum’s haircut. Over the weekend, he’d shaved his head in a military style, five millimetres short all over.
They were in the middle of the briefing she was late for. The team had gathered around him. He was leaning against a desk, wearing a white shirt and jeans. His tall, solid body towered over everyone. He had a letter in his hand—the letter.
“Lana!” he said, a little too enthusiastically.
She smiled and cast her eyes to the floor.
As she stepped further inside the lab, his unwavering gaze followed her. Her stomach knotted. Now she knew why she was distracted earlier. She’d missed him. Working so closely the last six months had created a need in her and from his expression it had in him too.
She wanted to tell him, but everybody was here and now staring at her.
Callum looked at her like he knew her intimately. She dropped her eyes and walked on. Her colleagues were already suspicious of them. She’d overheard their whispers. Now they would think they were right, but nothing had happened between them.
She found a space in the middle of the group and leaned back against a lab bench.
Callum’s substitute stood next to him, and her face couldn’t hide her unwelcome relegation back to the lower ranks.
“I told the team the government had finally made the amendments to the HFEA Act.” He waved the letter in her direction, revealing the official header from the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority.
The government would say they made the changes to bring the UK into alignment with the rest of the world but pressure from the Youth Party had to be a factor.
The team cheered again.
Callum had to be holding in a smile. This was the reason they came back from Beijing.
He was behaving professionally, casually at ease with both good and bad news. He stared at the floor then glanced up at her. He looked uncomfortable, as if he was about to drop a bomb on them.
“Is RI-UK aligned with RI-China now?” Lana raised her voice over the excited hum of the team.
“Yes, we can bring human embryos to full term.”
Still no smile from him. Full-term—that’s what they wanted. She knew it must be something else.
“Has our lab received permission to use the Act?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
The air released from the team. He let them fully deflate before continuing.
“Only the RI facility on Ascension Island has permission to use it. The letter says they will station two experts from Area 5 on the island.”
Lana pressed her lips together, trying to contain her excitement. Now she understood his reluctance to spill the details. She must be one of the two, and Callum had to be the other. Ascension Island was the brand spanking new RI site. Up and running for only three months. They’d announced it on the intranet.
The team simmered on the edge of mutiny. They glared at her and shook their heads.
She looked straight ahead at Callum, avoiding their stares.
“Because of the technology exchange with RI in China, Lana and I were selected to go in.”
He met her gaze, and they held eye contact for longer than they should. She didn’t smile. The rest of the team would lynch her if she did.
While glancing at Lana, Callum indulged their objections and tried to appease them.
Drowned out by the cheering inside her head, their muted complaints became distant voices.
This was her chance to fix what had broken in her and in them.
“It’s not fair!” a man shouted out.
The yell snapped Lana from her daze. She searched for the disgruntled voice, but everyone looked miserable.
“I’ll work on it while I’m in there. I’ll get more of you reassigned,” Callum said.
With resentful backward glances and tuts the team slumped off to the coffee room. Whether their indignation was directed at her or Callum, she wasn’t sure; probably both. She did feel sorry for them but not as sorry as she could have been if she’d not been selected. It wasn’t fair, but this was a war, and a war that had to be won. They must see that.
They were finally alone, Callum leaning against one bench, Lana leaning on another. The air between them radiated with excitement and hope.
She stepped towards him, suppressing the smile desperate to stretch across her face.
“What did you do to your hair?”
He rubbed his hand over his scalp. “Do you like it?”
“Meh.” She teased him.
He nodded towards his office, and she followed him inside, closing the door behind her.
He sat down at the round table and slid the pen on it towards him. He tapped at the letter, thoughtfully while she pulled out the seat opposite him and sat down.
Leaning across the table, she whispered, “They want us?”
He nodded but didn’t meet her eyes. What else was he not telling her?
He continued tapping the pen on the letter. The upside-down date read, April 20, 2062. The letter was dated four days ago, stuck in the paper post, no doubt. They’d waited years for the changes to be made. What were a few more days?
He glanced at her. His eyes were brown and glossy like hers beneath the blue contacts she wore. She sat back and focussed on him. Taking in his appearance felt appropriate while waiting for him to speak. She’d never noticed how square his jaw was or how pronounced the dimple on his chin was. If she was looking for the ideal mate, he’d be it—alpha male, tall, intelligent, athletic. His lips were full, like juicy cherries. She imagined biting into them. Her mouth watered.
She couldn’t bear her thoughts any longer. “What is it?”
“We have to commit to a minimum of five years away.”
“What?”
He’d obviously had time to process that piece of information.
“Think about what this could mean for your career, and we could work together again.”
“Together?” she asked.
He reached out across the table and touched her hand. The softest, gentlest touch.
“Yes, together. All I could think about this w
eekend was when I would see you again.”
A colleague passed by the office window and peered through the slatted blind. She pulled her hands away and straightened.
They’d been so busy while they were away. When did these feelings between them switch on exactly? She wasn’t sure, but they needed distance. They couldn’t be together. She couldn’t risk getting close to anyone.
“Why five years?” she asked.
“The Ascension Island facility is the only RI site in the world permitted to use the time manipulation. We would work inside Zone 12. Five years inside is five days outside. We’d be five years ahead of the world in only five days. In days we could be growing a human embryo to full term outside the womb. We just need a security clearance check and then we can go in.”
Lana’s mind had been spinning before he’d said security clearance. Now those words were all she’d heard, forget the time acceleration. “Security clearance?”
“Ascension Island is a Top Secret facility. The clearances are in progress.”
Top Secret. Security clearance.
The words tumbled over in her mind.
His face distorted in the tangle of her lies. She was about to lose everything she’d worked for.
A moment ago, she was thinking about not having a future with him, such extravagant thoughts, such indulgence. If they found out about her, she wouldn’t have a future at all.
“I can’t go,” she said after the long, tumultuous silence, his face still without focus.
He reached for her hand. “Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
“It’s too late. I said we would. The clearances will be through soon. Why can’t you go?” His voice was soft but a little desperate.
She wasn’t Lana Underwood, that’s why not. She was Lucy Green. Paige Green was her sister. They started the Youth Action Group together. Four years ago they were terrorists. The contact lenses she wore, her dyed-hair, the lies she told were part of the pretence she’d successfully maintained for years. She wouldn’t get a security clearance. She’d get a prison sentence.
But he didn’t know that—nobody at work knew. She’d kept that part of her life secret from everyone in here.
“Can you have a child, Lana?”
“I’m post-thirty-five. You know I can’t.” She fiddled with the silk scarf tied at her neck.
“Why won’t you go in with me?”
He watched her play with the scarf, and she realised he was. She smoothed it down and picked at her nails.
“If it comes through, I will. Okay. I don’t feel well. I’m going home.” She pushed herself up from the table and held on to it for a moment. She wanted to leave, but her legs wouldn’t move.
“It’s a lot to take in. I know,” Callum said.
You have no idea.
Chapter Five
Lana left the building. She needed to think. She approached the electric bikes in the closest park slot, sent her destination to the control panel and climbed on. The bike waited for an access slot then set off.
She clutched the handle bars, her rucksack on her back; the breeze through her hair failing to blow her concerns away.
She assumed the political rally in the square had ended. A few more elders had dared to venture out on to the streets. Yes, there were guards, but with a large group of Youth Party supporters hanging around they weren’t stupid, not like her. Why had she thought she could get away with her lies forever?
Her bike stopped outside the supermarket. Next to the trolleys, a line of branded robots were on standby like a kettle waiting to boil. Would you like a complimentary helper to push your trolley, reach food from the top shelf, pack your bags and deliver it to your apartment?
You could hire one from the comfort of your own home. Send an order through for what you wanted to eat. For extra credit they’d bring it, cook it and clean up after. Just don’t tell them you don’t like what they cook. RI must protect its assets, and if your comment pushed a drifter over the edge, a kitchen knife could be lodged in your forehead.
Lewis could’ve hired a robot to bring him a piss bottle.
If people managed their state guaranteed salary well, they need never lift a finger. The death-crane hauling a fat decomposing body out of an apartment window never failed to pull in a crowd.
She climbed off the bike, passed the robot line and turned back to look at their pale expressionless faces.
Metres away their uniforms distinguished them from humans, but without one only their eyes revealed them as soul-less. But for some humans their lack of presence was of little significance, especially those who might hire a different personality for personal use inside their own home. She’d read the bucking cowboy was the people’s favourite.
She felt a little sorry for the machines, queued up, just waiting to be useful, even if they were nothing more than fancy espresso makers. They weren’t that different to humans in that respect. She wanted to feel useful, and she wanted to go to Ascension Island.
But feeling anything of substance inside the New Cities was difficult. Under the constant watch of armed guards, thoughts bounced between lethargy and instinct and melted as quickly as snowflakes on the hand.
She yanked a basket from the stack, ignoring the guards at the doorway.
The world she’d built for herself was about to crumble. Her lie was about to be exposed. How much time was left? Maybe she should call Callum. Throw her future away now and indulge in the end-of-the-species sex she’d imagined with him.
But she wanted more than that from him.
Now she thought she would lose him, she was certain.
She should tell him before he found out, but what if he reacted badly?
She slumped around the aisles, staring absently at the branded and regulation food on the shelves. The branded food did cost more credits, but it was always worth it. She took a loaf of bread and a packet of eggs from a shelf. She didn’t want to spend too much credit. A miracle could happen, and she might get the clearance. In that case she wouldn’t need any food. And in the other case, she needed no food because she’d be in prison.
At the check-out, Lana’s defeated posture suddenly stiffened. An elderly woman was in the queue in front of her. She checked the guards were still inside the supermarket doorway. The old woman half-smiled at Lana, but Lana was no fool. Tolerance could switch to intolerance with one wrong word and spit out snake venom. But that woman couldn’t know her line of work. Lana was one of many in there. All the same she stayed on high alert.
The boy on the check-out scanned the old woman’s items through while he grinned like a simpleton. She sensed he was about to make his own day. Lana was sure they could train a robot to do his job. But humans preferred human interaction for some things, and people needed the opportunity to earn extra credit, however artificial the method.
“Twenty-five credits,” he told the old woman.
“Twenty-five credits?”
The prices fluctuated depending on the food in season, and with no prices on display it was often a shock at the check-out. Lana hadn’t been to the supermarket for six months so she wasn’t sure how much food cost now. That did seem expensive though.
The cashier mocked her silently: twenty-five credits. He smirked at Lana as if she was complicit in his taunt.
“Do you want it or not?” he asked.
“Twenty-five credits. That’s robbery!” The woman’s voice boomed over the piped music supposed to calm them down.
At the sound of boots on the floor, their attention shifted to the guard stomping towards them, gripping his sub-machine gun. “What’s going on?”
“It’s twenty-five credits!”
The guard swiped the barrel of his gun in time with the rolling motion of the checkout belt. “Scan it again,” he told the cashier.
The guard then studied the boy while he scanned each of the woman’s items through a second time.
Some post-thirty-fives created conflict on purpose by goading and t
aunting elders in the streets. Now the elders were anyone over the age of twenty-seven. Next year it would be anyone over the age of twenty-eight. The dividing line between the fertile and infertile shifted each year, and the line of hate shifted along with it.
The boy smirked. “It’s still the same.”
The old woman tutted and swiped her finger in the air, accepting the price on her air-screen. Grumbling, she packed her groceries into a paper bag then shuffled out with the guard by her side.
“Special price for our older friends,” he whispered to Lana. “Five credits, please.”
Lana scowled at the boy and sent a thought-text to the payment machine. He thought they had the cause in common, but for her they shared nothing more than a label, and it wasn’t his label anyway—it was hers. Men like him couldn’t resist an opportunity to identify with a tribe, be it a football team, a country, a label, even a woman’s label, any excuse for a ruckus.
“You need to get the implant,” the cashier told her. “I’m not sure how long we’ll support screens.”
“Yes, I know. I have two days to get the upgrade. And you shouldn’t have done that.” Lana confirmed the purchase with a heavy tap on the payment screen.
Four years after the war, it was so far gone now, she didn’t know if the tensions between the post-and pre-thirty-fives could ever be resolved. If they could, life in the New Cities might just become tolerable, but life outside—who knew?
She needed the security clearance. She had to find out. If the post-thirty-fives had hope for the future, surely it wasn’t too late.
The cashier’s attention moved to the TV screen fixed in the top corner of the shop. He turned the volume louder than the piped music.
Paige Green was on the news: ‘Get the thought-text upgrade and use your vote. A vote for the YP is a vote for a strong youth voice in government.’
She couldn’t understand why Paige would support the roll-out of the implant. The government must have blackmailed her. Why else would she support it?
Started with Errors (Relative Industries Series Book 2) Page 4
