“The information on the internet could be from the government, someone’s business or Ms Sally’s laptop down the road. Either way they’re all connected right, and all that information is accessible to anyone connected to the network?”
“It tis a global infamation sisstem.” Pigeon chimes in, his wily English accent clearly in need of some fine tuning.
“Yes, understand.” Smith looks closely, touching the screen with the end of his finger inquisitively. Pigeon leans back in his chair a little as Smith does so, not saying anything but giving him a strange, wide eyed look.
“Ok, so let’s imagine that, but bigger, much bigger.” Suni continues. “And instead of being artificially created by humans and computers, this other thing has been created by something else.”
Smith nods his head.
“Yes, by what you found in the ground.” Suni looks him closely in the eye.
“Destiny.”
“Well that’s what they called the facility after you disappeared, we prefer to call it something else … the thread.”
“Thread?” Smith leans in closer to hear her better.
“Think of a yacht, it’s made in a shop, put to sea and tested. Then it’s put in a showroom, sold to a customer who then decides to take it to the ocean, give it a berth and take it sailing every once in a while. A captain plots a course and sails the ship wherever he intends.”
“Said yacht lives out its life until it rots or sinks or whatever. Simple, its life has a start, a finish and an end. Right?”
“The life of this yacht is entirely predictable because we, the creators of it, are in control of what takes place, well, mostly anyway. We build it, we sail it and so forth. And thus we can foresee its destiny and can also alter it, if we see the need to.”
She let her words sink in for a moment before continuing. “So, let’s imagine that for a second humans are the same, they are built, they are tested and then they live whatever life is meant for them.”
Smith’s eyes shift slightly.
“Just like with the boats, the thread can foresee the destiny of a human being. It can tell exactly what is going to happen at any stage in the life of a human.”
“Why call thread?”
“Oh, that’s just because of the way it reads on a computer screen, it’s like a thread, a timeline. And there are literally billions of them all connected together to form another big thread.”
“Destiny.” Smith says again, as if pondering the idea.
“Yes Destiny. It’s the proverbial heart of human existence, containing the blueprint of everyone’s life.”
“Control?”
“Yes,” Suni answers with a sigh. “They have immense power and responsibility and they abuse it quite readily. They’ve altered people’s lives, even taken them, they ...”
“Thread, Destiny.”
“Yeah, crazy right?”
“Crazy.”
“They control a thread,” she empathises, “… but I figured out it’s not the only one. They only control what’s a part of that thread, and as far as I’m aware they only control the one. Nobody here is a part of that thread, this way we can avoid them.”
“More threads?”
“Yes, we’re currently in the midst of trying to locate one, but without a connection it would be useless.”
“Many threads? Around Earth?”
“Yes.”
“Strange. Destiny thread.”
“Yes.”
“How find more?”
“I leave that up to Alison, she’s an absolute legend when it comes to that sort of thing. She’s the one who’s uncovered everything to date. And I mean everything, she even claims to have dug you up thirty years ago ... in the desert no less.”
“Must meet Alison.”
“If we can find the device, you’ll get your wish.”
“Why?”
“Harrison, he went on that mission to Sydney with the boys to get information on its location. We’re just pulling the data from the USB he brought back now. Shouldn’t be too long before we know where to find it.”
“Find what?”
“The device.”
Smith’s head jerks at the mention of the word device, something triggering in his memory. “Sousa is the key. Send the device to the kid.”
“What did you say?”
“The device.”
“What about it?”
“Send the device to the kid,” he whispers again.
“What duz dat meen?” Pigeon scratches his head, listening in on the conversation.
“Don’t know.” Smith replies.
- -
RECALLING
destiny
Catlin
Dark room, dark thoughts.
Catlin had been cooped up in the dark for what seemed like days now and could feel the claustrophobia threatening to break through her otherwise normal, calm demeanour. She’d woken here in near complete darkness, locked away in what she could only assume was an enclosed prison cell, with no windows.
She had nothing but her clothes on and the room she was being held in only contained a bed, a toilet and a basin. She felt locked away from the world with nothing but thoughts creeping upon her mind, threatening her sanity.
Was that really Pete in that store? What was he doing there, why didn’t he try to warn me?
And what the hell happened to the people chasing her? Why did they suddenly disappear?
She’d tried endlessly to solve the dilemma’s in her mind, but still couldn’t fathom what’d happened ever since that night in Africa, where this all seemed to have started. How could a photo pose a risk to anyone? What did I do? What were they after?
After she’d fought the police for her freedom she had made her way into the 7-11, it must have been a setup, they knew I was there. She’d given in when she realised how pointless it was to struggle anymore, it seemed everywhere she looked a person was trying to capture her.
Nobody had read her any rights, taken information or asked her any questions. She was simply cuffed and tossed into the back of a van with an escort. As she was seated she kept trying to sneak a look back at the 7-11, trying to search in vain for Peter in the mix of police officers. She remembered looking him in the eye, before he suddenly disappeared, before she had a good chance to look at him.
Where did he go?
An officer had joined her in the back of the van, but paid no attention, they left the scene before she had a chance to catch a glimpse of Peter, or the three men in black for that matter. Resignedly, she slumped forward on her seat totally defeated as the van took her away to face whatever it was she was accused of doing.
Clunk. The slot in her cell door opened, a reminder that her food was being delivered. It was her only respite from the solitude, the slot opening three times a day to deliver her meals.
And what meals they were, she’d half expected gruel or slop to be on the first plate of food brought to her, but much to her surprise it had been good, fresh and healthy. She had gourmet sandwiches the first day and was still savouring the flavour of tomato on rye with fresh spinach and avocado from yesterday.
She did wonder how they knew she was a vegan, since she’d arrived not a single question was asked of her but they knew her exact dietary requirements.
Though the food deliveries did break up her solitude, it did nothing to reassure her mind. She tried hard to fathom the reasoning behind throwing a captive into a dark locked room and then feeding five-star food to them three times a day, but then nothing of what had happened to her recently had made any sense.
She didn’t waste any time deliberating, she made for the slot and quickly retrieved the food tray as if it was soon to be snatched away. The food filled the room with its delightful aromas.
She could smell the c
hilli and lime wafting up through her nose and took her time in raising the serving tray to her nose, absorbing the flavours as she took it from the slot. With little else to do she had made a ritual out of her meal times, this was to be her fifth dinner, by her reckoning making her stay here at five days.
She had a lot of time whilst incarcerated to think about events preceding it and kept playing them back over and over in her mind, trying to find a clue that would help her find answers. But all she could think about was Peter and what the hell had happened to him back in the store.
She thought about the last thing he said before leaving the hotel room and pondered the words over and over in the cell. Maybe he was right, maybe she should stop resisting and take control like he had. The duality of both the good and bad played over in her mind, unsure of where she truly sat in amongst it all.
A part of her believed in good, the other in the bad. Choosing which one was a constant dilemma for her.
After the police van had departed the 7-11 carpark she tried to talk to the officer who was in the back with her, to try and glean a little information about her capture. Initially she tried getting the conversation going with everyday questions, but he didn’t respond so tried for a more personal touch.
“Been a pig for long?” she tried insulting him instead.
He looked at her viciously but still didn’t say anything. She thought for a moment and tried another taunt. “Is it Constable?” she said, emphasising the first part of the word.
This time he smiled, stifling a little laugh, but still gave no response. Giving up on him, Catlin looked herself over, checking the wounds she’d sustained and smiled as she realised they were only miniscule.
“How come there’s no blood?” the officer asked her suddenly, his eyes fixed upon her wounds.
“Oh, huh, finally got you to talk hey?” She looked up at him eagerly, but the look on her face only deterred his interaction, he quickly realised his error and looked away from her.
She tried getting his attention back, without result and so gave up her taunting for the moment, choosing instead to look out the window and figure out where she was on the road.
But it was so dark outside all she could discern were shadows from car headlights behind and in front, she assumed this came from the convoy of police vehicles she was travelling in.
My own personal escort.
After another twenty minutes or so, she heard the headphone in the officer’s ear buzz to life, he reacted instantly by getting up and moving to the end of the van, peering out of the rear windows. Something about his body language told her something was not right, something was afoot.
“Shit!” he yelled out turning back to the front of the van.
“What is it?” Catlin asked.
With no response given, she stood up and turned to have a look through the small window herself. What she saw frightened the hell out of them both. The two vehicles that were trailing them suddenly veered off the road, smashing through the guard rail and off the cliff.
“Sit back down!” The guard yelled as he heard her gasp behind him.
“What’s going on back there?” the driver called out to the guard through the wire mesh in the van.
“Someone’s hit the two units in the rear, they just went over the freaking cliff!” he replied as he made his way back to the front of the van to talk to the driver. He came past Catlin and pointed angrily at her seat, she sat down quietly.
Catlin leaned forward to try and make out their conversation but was distracted when she noticed, through the front windscreen, the lead vehicle ahead of them. It came up to a bend in the road, but instead of turning the corner the vehicle simply kept on driving straight. Straight through the guard railing.
Right over the cliff, just as the two vehicles following had.
“What the hell was that?” the driver called out.
“Jesus, we’re under attack!” the officer in the back with Catlin responded frantically, now on high alert.
“Where the heck are they?”
“There’s no one! I can’t see anyone!” The officer tried desperately to get a visual, squinting through the windows into the night.
“Well, what the hell?”
“Where are they?”
“I can’t see anyone!”
“Turn your lights off.”
“See anything?”
“No, check the back.” the two rapidly exchanged frantic words whilst the officer in the back stomped around the back with her, Catlin could only sit confused.
The guard came storming back through the van, looking out the back window, “I can’t see anyone.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s just darkness, I can’t see anything.”
“Are you sure, there must be someone following us.”
“I dunno ... pull over, pull over!”
Catlin had no idea what was going on, apparently cars were dropping like flies around them. She hadn’t heard any gunshots or explosions so assumed that maybe the other cars were forced from the road by other cars, why else would they suddenly just veer of the road.
Who was after them? She thought to herself, until the image of the men in black fatigues flashed into her mind.
Both guards had said they hadn’t seen anyone else around them, so what else could have explained it. Regardless, the driver slowed the van to a stop in the middle of the desolate mountain road, a solitary vehicle in the darkness.
She could hear the driver talking into a microphone, but all he got in response to his pleas was silence, she wondered if perhaps the signal had been cut.
“Stay here and don’t move!” The guard yelled as he opened the back door, gun raised and joining the driver on the road. But she paid him no heed, she wanted to know what was going on so moved to the edge of the van for a look.
The two officers were talking for a moment, surveying the scene with pistols raised when suddenly without warning the man who was her guard simply dropped to the ground lifelessly.
The driver, stunned at seeing this, knelt warily and checked the man over. He checked his pulse, his airway and then completely mystified looked up at Catlin in surprise.
She caught his eye and saw both fear and confusion in them, clearly he knew he was in danger, but couldn’t fathom the cause of it. He was about to open his mouth and say something to her when she saw his eyes suddenly roll into the back of his head, his body go limp and he dropped to the ground, just as his colleague had only seconds ago.
Catlin stood perplexed for a moment, unsure of whether she would be the next to drop, her eyes rolled around in her head expectantly. Waiting long enough to be sure she was safe, she nervously stuck her head out of the van to see if she was alone. Not a sound could be heard on the quiet mountain road, not a car or person in sight. Catlin timidly stepped out of the van and into the darkness.
Hastily, she exited and the first thing she thought of was to remove the handcuffs, so she shuffled over to her guard and found a key to free herself. Fumbling with the keys to unlock the cuffs, she moved around the van to inspect her surroundings as she removed the unwanted metal restraints.
A cold, quiet mountain road, with a tight bend and no lights. She was in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of darkness. Even the forest that lined either side of the road seemed to sense the immensity of the situation, for it was completely silent as well.
She squinted ahead, trying to make something out the darkness ahead but couldn’t see anyone else. Behind her all she could see were the two fallen guards. Looking at the two bodies, she realised they both had weapons and wondered if she should retrieve one of them for her safety. She moved sharply and was backtracking towards the two fallen guards when she heard what sounded like footsteps echoing off in the dark.
She froze, her eyes darted around in the darkness trying to make out what
made the noise. Through the mist, she spotted shadows and then figures start to emerge from the shadows, wafts of steam coming from their mouths as they approached.
Someone else had come to take her.
Dark shadows emerged and they were dressed in black fatigues.
And now she sat in the cell, savouring her five star meals without a clue to why she was here, nothing but dark thoughts for company. She was captured without incident and transported here safely, nobody coming to talk to her in all the time since.
But she knew she was valuable, they’d killed an entire convoy of police to get her.
After finishing her meal Catlin returned the tray to the slot and was expecting it to close when instead the tray was removed and a small canvas bag put in its place.
“What the hell is this?”
She’d hoped for a reply, but none came. Rather than waste any more time trying to get a response Catlin complied and grabbed the bag from the slot, flinching as the slot slammed shut afterwards with a loud clunk.
A moment later the lights came on, stinging her eyes blind momentarily. Five days without light had made her sensitive, it took a little while for her vision to adjust.
She returned to her bed, more excited that she cared to be for a small bag, and rustled around inside. A smile of relief crept up her face when she realised what it contained … amenities … they had sent her a toiletry bag full of sanitary items.
Mouthwash, lipstick, nail clippers, even some perfume.
She dutifully laid the contents on the end of the bed and contemplated them for a moment. She felt like her captors were trying to control her and she didn’t like it. Normally she would stand defiantly in protest of captivity, but after five days with nothing to do, she couldn’t fight off the temptation to grab the bag and start using it.
The slot opened again and a deep voice called out to her through it, “You have an hour, clean yourself up and be ready.”
Recalling Destiny Page 15
