by Jem Tugwell
Table of Contents
Praise for Proximity
Author
Title
Publisher
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
With thanks...
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Praise for Proximity
The People's Book Prize Finalist 2019-2020
‘A vision of the future that both chills and entertains.’ Jake Kerridge (Sunday Express Magazine)
‘…exhilarating and provocative debut crime thriller with a twist.’ The Malestrom, 4 of the Best Beach Reads: Summer 2019
‘Very topical, terrifying, superb concept for a crime novel.’ Stav Sherez - award winning author
‘A darkly twisted crime novel set in a future world that seems to grow closer every day. Fantastically imaginative and gripping.’ Angela Clarke, Sunday Times bestselling author
‘An ingenious and highly plausible look at crime in a future with 100% surveillance.’ Claire McGowan, Bestselling author
‘Compelling, relevant and chilling. Is this where we’re heading?’ Abi Silver
***** Review ‘The writing hurtles along like a runaway train and you can barely pause for breath. What renders it original and ingenious is the background of embedded technology called “iMe” (how perfect is that?!) It’s a crime thriller and it is very thrilling.’ Gill Chedgey (NB Magazine)
***** Review ‘I must admit that I finished the book with a prayer that I will never see something like iMe in my lifetime - the idea is just too terrifying’ Breakaway Reviewers
‘***** from me as the storyline is brilliant… Plenty of discussion topics here for bookclubs!’ EmmabBooks
‘Jem Tugwell’s outstanding description of years too close to ours to my taste left me speechless.’ Meggy, Chocolate’n’Waffles
‘A brilliant book, an excellent thriller and 100% entertaining. Highly recommended. Really can’t wait for a follow up! Genius.’ Books from Dusk Till Dawn
What some of my readers are saying…
***** Oh wow, I am absolutely blown away with this book. Set in the future, but one that is totally believable, big brother is definitely watching every move everyone makes.
***** What is so chilling about Jem Tugwells assured debut novel Proximity is how close reality is coming to his well-realised world in which technology commands every aspect of life.
***** I enjoyed the humour that was also evident throughout the book.
***** The technology setup is one someone can easily understand… The characters were interesting and I really enjoyed Clive’s frustration and complaints about everything and Zoe’s contrasting opinions and outlook.
***** What a fantastic book. Great pace, drama and story.
***** Proximity was completely unafraid to ask itself what would happen to humanity, if given the option to hand over all of their privacy in exchange for the semblance of control and safety. It was heavy and powerful, and highly thought-provoking.
***** In this world of CCTV and GPS tracking it's a believable and frightening story for our future. Recommend highly!
***** Call me a wuss, but Proximity scared the living heck out of me. This isn’t a horror novel it’s a techno thriller, so you may be asking yourself why this scared me so much. Part of it is that Jem Tugwell’s writing is so absorbing, I was transported into the story. The other reason this is so scary? Because we are so attached to technology right now that the implant, iMe, is something that is totally realistic.
***** This is Big Brother on steroids!
***** A superb story, well written and narrated, with a fresh twist and an edge that makes the reader think both about the events unfolding and the greater landscape it is set in.
***** This is a really enjoyable and timely near future dystopian novel.
***** Proximity is fast-paced, imaginative and could easily be featured as the next episode of "Black Mirror". It's a big 5 stars from me!
Jem Tugwell is a crime fiction author with a Crime Writing MA from City University. Proximity is his thrilling debut novel, inspired by the fascinating possibilities of technology, AI and the law of unintended consequences. In a past life, Jem had a successful career in technology and investment management, and he now lives in Surrey with his wife and dog. He has two great children. Outside of his family and writing, Jem’s loves are snowboarding, old cars and bikes.
www.jemtugwell.com
[email protected]
@JemTugwell
@JemTugwellAuthor
Proximity
Jem Tugwell
First published in Great Britain by Serpentine Books
This edition published in 2019 by
Serpentine Books Limited
www.serpentinebooks.com
[email protected]
Copyright © Jem Tugwell 2019
The moral right of Jem Tugwell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
EPUB ISBN 978 19 1602 231 7
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For Mum and Dad, who never got to see this book, and
Rax without whom nothing is possible.
1
; Thief
For the first time in ten years, the real me walked free. I savoured every beat of excitement that pulsed through me. All those failures, but now it was working. I let the corners of my mouth drag up an unfamiliar smile. They couldn’t see me, and what was left of the police force wouldn’t even know where to begin.
The smell of cut grass hung in the air and blended with the occasional tantalising floral notes of her perfume. It drew me along; my mind full of the things I would do to her. She was heading home through the quiet streets of Datchet, crossing in all her usual places, but simply following her signal would have been too sterile. The hi-tech soles of her shoes gave a bounce to her stride and set her hair swishing. I wanted to reach out and stroke it.
I craved the proximity.
A car turned into the road, and I ducked behind a tree even though I was hidden from them. I waited, but as the self-drive car slid silently past me, I saw that the only person in it had the seat reclined, with their head lolling, mouth open, fast asleep.
The minor delay waiting for the car added to my ache. I had planned to give her a few minutes to settle once she got home, but I couldn’t wait. I quickened my pace and closed the gap. I became her shadow, but she didn’t feel my darkness behind her.
Karina touched her front door, and it unlocked. I scanned the street but saw only rows of closed doors and wispy trees. I slipped my mask on and stroked her shoulder.
She gasped and span around. I raised my hand and sprayed the liquid into her face. Karina screamed, and her hands clawed at her eyes to stop them burning. I shoved her back into the house and closed the door behind me.
She was mine now. My possession.
2
DI Clive Lussac
The rotating blade snagged, blood spurted, and a finger hit the floor. I paused the video stream I was watching, dragged my feet off the desk, and tipped forward so that my rigid chair dropped back onto all four legs. I yawned and stretched the sluggishness out of my limbs. Today was another day at the office with nothing much to do, so I was half-heartedly trying to get through my backlog of compulsory episodes of Safety First. This episode showed how dangerous the old versions of tools used to be. I sighed. These were all the same ones I remembered from my childhood. Not like the ultra-safe new tools, packed with safety sensors and checks that made them nearly impossible to start.
I pressed ‘Play’ again and winced. The editors had chosen all the worst examples of people chopping bits off themselves, getting stuff in their eyes, and choking on sawdust. It reminded me of my metalwork teacher swearing at me as I dripped blood onto the floor after yet another cut. I held my hands up towards the screen and wiggled my fingers to show that the old tools hadn’t stolen anything that should still be attached.
The show ended with the usual ‘we’re safer now’ messages and statistics on how much money the hospitals saved because they didn’t have to treat ‘self-inflicted’ lifestyle injuries.
I couldn’t face another pious episode, so leaving my chair behind, I sauntered down the empty corridor to the office’s snack area. The exuberantly muraled vending machine stretched across one wall. As I approached, my embedded iMe device connected with the machine and its synthesised human voice said: ‘How can I serve you, Clive?’
I crossed my fingers behind my back. ‘Give me some chocolate – a Mars bar.’ I spoke slowly and clearly to aid the voice recognition.
‘Sorry, Clive, but you still have an Excess Consumption Order and your iMe reports: high blood sugar level. You are already at 59% of your restricted daily calorie allowance and 60% of your saturated fat allowance,’ it stated and then added in an upbeat tone. ‘Please make another selection.’
I uncrossed my fingers – it never worked, but I had to try. ‘Give me a coffee then.’
‘Sorry, Clive, but your iMe reports: slightly raised pulse and blood pressure, and high caffeine levels. Please make another selection.’
I banged the glass, ‘Just give me the drink, machine.’ The only reason I had a raised pulse and blood pressure was because these damn things wouldn’t do what I wanted.
‘Sorry, Clive, but your anger and violence towards me have been marked on your personnel file. I can provide you with water. Please take two glasses as your iMe reports: slightly dehydrated.’
‘OK, OK. Give me the bloody water then.’ I picked up one cup and took a reluctant sip. I left the other cup in the serving hatch as a show of dissent and unfurled a one-finger salute.
I trudged back along the corridor. My churning resentment of the machines weighed me down. I glanced out at the vivid April morning, but the sun, bright enough to make me squint, cast deep shadows inside me.
***
‘Get what you wanted from the machines, sir?’ asked DC Zoe Jordan.
She’d been my partner for two weeks. The latest in a long line of officers forced to rotate through the Proximity Crime Unit. Her hair was a shade darker brown than her eyes and seemed wilfully stubborn. She pushed a piece behind her ear, but it flounced back to its original position, like a sulky teenager dropping into a chair.
‘Of course not,’ I grunted as I slumped into a chair.
Looking at her, I was painfully aware of every one of the twenty-five years between us and every wrinkle on my face. Our clothes summed the pair of us up perfectly: my black trousers were slightly grubby, creased and worn; her colourful suit gleamed new with an elegant, crisp collar.
‘And I’ve told you before, Zoe – Clive or Boss. There’s only two of us.’
‘Sure… Boss,’ she said.
Her carefree smile brightened the room around her, especially when she flashed her teeth. Like with everyone under thirty, they were glaringly white. I felt all gaunt and washed-out next to her, just like when I stood under the harsh, over-bright lights above my sink.
‘You enjoying PCU so far, Zoe?’
Her curt nod seemed to say yes, but her compressed smile disagreed.
‘It wasn’t always this bad.’ My hand traced the office. While the Cyber Crime department lorded it up in the glamorous New Scotland Yard offices, we were always on the move. Always to somewhere smaller and cheaper. Currently, PCU existed on the ground floor of an architectural experiment in concrete on a shabby corner of the Slough Industrial Estate.
‘So, what was it like?’
‘Frantic. We did everything before they got named Proximity Crimes: theft, assault, muggings, murder – the lot. Used to be loads of us. Now…’ My voice trailed away as I remembered the faces of colleagues long gone. Of the fifty or so desks in the PCU office, only four were ever occupied. Even the cleaners barely bothered anymore, and a film of dust covered the unused desks.
‘It’s not as nice as my old office at Cyber,’ she said, as though forcing herself to find a negative.
Outside, the high wall had been built too close to the windows. It blocked most of the natural light, so the buzzing fluorescent tubes were on all day. The longest side of the office housed the main display wall. Left alone, its flickering glow bounced across our desks as it paraded an endless stream of scrolling health and safety warnings. I groaned as the instructions on how to avoid back damage when tying your shoelaces were replaced by an animated film explaining the mandatory use of the handrail on the stairs.
‘Now people put up with their three months here while dreaming of going back to Cyber or Anti-Terrorism. No one stays.’ My voice echoed in the empty space.
She nodded. Then stopped herself. ‘Why’s that, Boss?’
‘You know why. You’ve only just got here, and you already know PCU’s Four-Step Modern Police Procedure: receive a report; drag it into the Monitor software; wait to be given a list of the people who were there; then send the list to Uniform to arrest them.’ I sighed my regret, conscious of how much my job had changed.
‘But weren’t you the first person to get iMe used in policing?’
‘Don’t rub it in. I only wanted to be able to prove who was at the crime scene. I didn’t mea
n to get all of my mates sacked.’ Part of me still believed my decision was right. Bringing iMe into policing had helped people, saved people even, but I hadn’t thought through the consequences. It had ruined my dream job.
‘But everyone’s healthier and safer now. It’s a good thing.’ She looked away from my shaking head. ‘There’s a software upgrade soon. Sounds great: security updates, extra allergy checks and more heart monitoring.’
‘Yeah, fantastic.’
‘You want anything from the machines before it starts?’
‘No thanks. I can’t take another domestic with an appliance.’ I paused. ‘Unless you want to use some of your allowance to get me a Mars bar?’
‘What? Of course not.’ She glowered at me. ‘I’ll get some water for both of us.’
I fiddled around on my HUD while she was gone. The HUD, more formally called a Head-Up Display, was the only good feature of iMe. It made it look like there was a screen a metre from your eyes. With voice control or a virtual keyboard, it was easy to use and securely integrated calls, mail, banking, browsing and apps. You had everything you could ever need. Anywhere, anytime.
I pinched my fingers in front of me to pick up a message icon from my HUD screen and threw it towards my face. On the screen, the icon grew and morphed into the actual text. I skimmed over it, but it was another reminder about the upgrade.
A few minutes later Zoe came back with two bio-plastic cups of water that she placed on either side of the chipped veneer desk. ‘It’ll start in a second,’ she said, and found a chair. I preferred to stand.
The upgrade began with a slight heat in the back of my neck, then a growing high-frequency vibration. My ears filled with static that I endured for the next thirty seconds. I had my hand on the back of my neck, and my head tipped to one side. People said I looked like a cross between a meerkat and a puzzled dog. Zoe upgraded with the tranquillity and elegance of a meditating Buddhist monk.
