Variant

by T. C. Edge

  I reached back, feeling mildly proud of myself, and drew the small microchip from the back of my skull. I presented it to him, and let him inspect it for a moment. He pursed his lips and handed it back.

  "I have to keep updating it as the custodians improve their scanners. I've been trying to make it untraceable so that it can evade the ill-tech scanners as well." I placed it back into position at the base of my skull, beneath my jet black hair. "Right now, I have to take it off any time they scan for illegal tech at work. I have my little system, but I'm always worried I'll be spotted eventually."

  "And if they came in and scanned for Variants and ill-techs simultaneously?" he asked. "I'm guessing that hasn't happened yet?"

  I shook my head. "Not yet. It's my biggest concern right now, yeah. I've heard it has happened elsewhere before. That's why I've been working hard to make the chip untraceable by the ill-tech scanners. It's a hassle having to remove it each time."

  "I can imagine," he said. "There aren't many, you know, who are able to design tools that can deceive the scanners."

  "Then how do they manage to get away with it?" I asked, always curious about the means that other Variants used. "I mean, there are Variants who still live over in Southbank, right? Those who work around there like me. Like the ones that Walter uncovered for Mantis, for example. Surely they had their own means of getting around the scanners and not getting caught?"

  "Well, I can't speak for all of them, of course, but sure, they will have. Some of them will get the appropriate tech on the black market, or may be able to invent something themselves. Others have come to us in the past for help. We make ourselves available to them where we can. Sometimes they join us, and go off the grid. Sometimes they just live their lives and try to stay hidden. A lot of Variants already know about us through their parents or other relatives who carry the Variant gene. We have helped a lot of them over the years, whether they want to join our cause or not."

  His eyes turned again, looking to my trench coat. "That stealth suit you wear," he continued. "The one you wore when you went to Walter's place. Are you wearing it now?"

  I stood up and removed the coat, revealing the black bodysuit underneath. Ford looked me up a down in a manner that, at any other time, I might find inappropriate. After all, the suit did hug my frame quite tightly. I might mistake his attentions for something else in another situation.

  "Impressive," he said, remaining quite professional as he nodded, and then looked me in the eye. "We have managed to forge a similar design, but perhaps not as effective. How do you activate it?"

  "There's a pad in the lining of the inner wrist," I said, opening up my right arm and showing him. "It activates by my personal thumb print. I just touch my left thumb and it goes into stealth mode. Any other time, it's just a black catsuit."

  "Would you care to demonstrate?"

  I did, touching my left thumb to the pad, as the suit began to shimmer and distort. It reflected the light around it, making it appear invisible, or at least very difficult to spot, from certain angles and depending on the light and setting. I walked around a little bit as Ford looked on, visibly impressed.

  "Does it work against infrared and other light wavelengths?"

  "Working on it," I said. "It does well enough to hide my heat signature, but I haven't got it fully down yet. It's highly effective against the human eye, but anyone with bionic eyesight upgrades will likely spot me. Cameras the same, depending on their settings."

  "And the pistol?" His eyes fell to the holster tight against my hip. "It's the same one you brought to Walter's unit?"

  I nodded. "I've designed it to be multi-functional. Immobilising and paralysing charges. High velocity rounds. I need to work on armour piercing, seeing as I couldn't penetrate that Reaper's armour." I shook my head, frustrated by that fact. "There are a couple of other settings as well. It's...it's a work in progress."

  I withdrew the pistol and passed it to Ford. He inspected it and handed it back, as I placed it to my holster and sat back on the bed, leaving my trench coat off for now.

  "And you've done all this yourself?" he asked. "All of it by getting cheap parts on the black market?" He looked closely at me. "You haven't commissioned anyone to help you make them?"

  I shook my head. "Nope, no one. I go to a few different traders and merchants, you know, to help cover my tracks in case someone catches wind of what I'm doing. But, yeah, otherwise I just build it all back at my unit. I've got a secret compartment there where I store things. It's protected by a cloaking seal in case the custodians come and try to scan my place. I've got lots of ideas for more stuff, though. It's just hard getting the right..."

  I stopped, mid-sentence, and looked at Ford. "Why...why are you smiling?"

  "Because you're exactly what I'd hoped you'd be," he said. "You clearly have a passion for it all."

  "It's something I enjoy, yes," I admitted. My eyes dropped away. "I'm used to my mum telling me off for wasting time on it all. It's nice to get some positive feedback, you know."

  His eyes now moved off, coming with a slight grunt. "Tell me about it," he said. "Parents can be hard to please sometimes." He shook his head to himself, before looking back to me. "But, anyway, you keen?"

  "Um...keen on?"

  "On working with us? Helping to create gear. You'll have all the parts you need, no restrictions. We can use the safe-house just around the corner from your unit. Set you up with a little workshop there. We don't want you missing work, of course, or getting into trouble. You don't have to go off the grid or anything. Just work part time."

  "Are you...are you sure?" I asked him. "I mean, I work quite long hours at the warehouse, you know. My spare time isn't exactly generous."

  "Well, I'd prefer it if you just packed it all in and joined us full time, but I know that's not always practical. We have a number of members who still hold down normal jobs. It's not uncommon."

  "Right..."

  "I'll be around, of course, coming and going. We have specific ideas of what we might need. I'll be like a liaison for you, a link to the VLA..." He stopped, noting my expression. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  I took a second to find the right words, and put my thoughts in order. Really, this should have been the best of both worlds. I could keep mum and Becca safe, and yet still work with the VLA, and do more to make a difference. No more sneaking around looking for information. No more risky trips to the Bends to get parts. I could work without restraint or concern, knowing I had the backing of the resistance.

  But, somehow it all felt slightly...hollow.

  "I...I don't know," I said to him. "I guess a part of me was hoping for more."

  "More?" He leaned forward. "How do you mean?"

  "It sounds silly, I know. And selfish, probably. But, there's something in me, Ford. Something that wants to be more...actively involved. Fight, even. Be a soldier. Be out there." I stopped a second and let out a short breath. "Like my dad. 'You're just like your father', my mum always says to me," I told him, putting on my best impression of her voice. "And...I want to be. I'm not built to be caged, hiding in the shadows making things. I love it, don't get me wrong, and am good at it. But there's more to me than that."

  I realised, as I spoke, that I'd begun to look away, my eyes facing the stone wall. When I looked back at Ford, I found him smiling, and nodding, and showing he truly understood. And even cared.

  "You'll get your chance," he said softly. "This is just how it starts, Paige. Hell, I know you can do more. I've been watching you. I've seen it. But Harkin isn't about to set a newbie loose, not without some training."

  His eyes shifted a little, and he stepped off his bed towards me, before taking a seat next to me. He shuffled close, suddenly clandestine. "Tell you what," he went on. "I'll train you up, give you some pointers. You build the tech, and I'll train you to fight. I know you're quick as hell, just like me. That makes you viable to become a soldier. How does that sound?"

  A hopeful little smile filled my l
ips, rising slowly but surely. "And what about Mantis? I still want to help get him, Ford. Someone needs to pay for those dead Variants."

  "And he will, Paige, don't worry. Start by helping us with the tech, and I'll make sure you're ready to fight if and when the time comes. But," he said, "I can't make promises. I...well I don't have the best reputation in the VLA right now. I guess I'm known for being a bit of a rogue. So, I can't make that decision. All I can do is train you, teach you, and we go from there, OK?"

  It sounded like a fair compromise, and frankly more than I could hope for. I needed to keep my perspective in check. I was brand new to this, and had to earn my place. Yes, I had fine heritage, and perhaps a gift that no one else possessed, but that wasn't enough.

  I had to prove myself too.

  With the night growing late, we ended the conversation there. It provided plenty of fuel for my dreams as I slept, tucked up in that basement room in the slums. And, quite rarely for me, they were dreams of excitement and hope, rather than dread and doom.

  For too long I'd lived in the shadows.

  Now, I was being brought into the light.

  13

  We left at first light, just as Lenny had instructed, using one of the secret exits to slip off into the slums.

  "I spoke with Harkin," Lenny grunted, as we stood at the doorway to the passage. It came out a hundred or so metres away, according to Ford, allowing us to leave the safe-house in secret. "He wants to see you later this morning. In the Eastbends. Get the girl home and then head over there."

  "There's no need for that," I said. "I can get myself home. It's Sunday now. I'm entitled to be out here. Curfew is over."

  "And if you're spotted heading back that way?" asked Lenny. "The authorities will still be searching for someone who matches your description. You'll be safer with Ford by your side."

  Ford nodded along. "He's right. And anyway, I want to talk to you some more. It's fine, really. There's plenty of time."

  He moved off at that, taking me by the arm to usher me down the tunnel. It came out further to the south, emerging from the side of a ditch. It was an old sewage exit, long since dried up and disused. We slipped through before any of the local scavengers spotted us, and quickly merged back into the slums.

  "You're not particularly eager to get back, are you?" I asked Ford as we went. I'd straightened up my hair now, and made sure my face was clean. My trench coat was also slightly modified by my own hand, and could be rearranged so it looked sleeker and different to how it was last night. All in all, I no longer had the appearance of a scavenger.

  Ford glanced at me. "Am I that obvious?"

  "Obvious enough. No one likes a dressing down."

  "Well, I've had enough of those to be used to them by now. Anyway, it's fine. If the Reapers had anything on us, we'd know about it by now. I'll explain it all to Harkin, clear things up. It won't be a problem."

  We ventured on as the morning light bloomed, a yellowish haze amid the smog. The slums were yet to wake, and most of the city would be the same. Moving south, we could avoid returning to the Bends, working immediately into Southbank. It was a route Ford knew well, he told me, and one in which they had access to many cameras.

  "Here, check this out," he said. He drew a little handheld device from his pocket, rectangular in shape and about the size of his palm. It had a touchscreen on the front, showing a view from a camera nearby. He tapped the screen and another image replaced it, presenting another camera view. Then he tapped a few times in a special sequence, and the screen filled with several dozen little squares, each with another view.

  "All cameras you've hacked?" I asked.

  "Yup," he nodded. "The ones I haven't been shut out of yet, at least. Sometimes they go off line when my code is discovered, but it's easy enough for me to upload more. It allows me to see what's around the corner, you know. And scramble them so we can pass unseen. Similar to the scrambler you use."

  "Right, but I can't see through them. I don't know how to do that."

  "Well well, something I can do and you can't." He winked. "I can't take credit, really. I don't design the tech. I just use it. But I have become a decent hacker. It's helpful in getting around."

  The journey home, thankfully, wasn't fraught or nervy. I was used to moving around unseen after curfew, and travelling during the day was a great deal easier. There were a few units of custodians on patrol, but we could easily avoid them, and soon enough we found ourselves among others on the street, going on Sunday walks or running mindless errands.

  It was a function of Southbank that gave it the appearance of some life, some freedom, at least. A lot of people felt compelled to get out of their units on Sundays, taking advantage of their only day off. There were some markets around, even some areas of greenery where they could look at the trees. For most, it was just another way of keeping sane. Because Monday was just around the corner.

  I never much liked returning to Southbank after venturing towards the Bends. It felt lifeless and grey; a lobotomised world. The people moved about like zombies with their pallid skin that never saw the sun, dark circles around their eyes. There was some colour, but it was rare. There were advertising boards dotted around, mostly within a few of the livelier districts, that had some measure of flair and vibrancy. The more intrepid youngsters who hadn't yet been pressed into service often had coloured hair as well, a minor infraction that might get their parents docked a few credits, but nothing for them to worry about.

  The Controller appeared to tolerate that, even though it seemed in stark contrast to everything else. Before turning sixteen, your self expression was mildly permitted, as if allowing you to 'get it out of your system', before a life of restraint began.

  The people grew up knowing that, and most accepted it. If you didn't, well, you'd suffer the consequences, or find yourself living amongst all the dangers of the Bends. Youngsters and their retro clothes, their multi-coloured, strangely styled hair? Not an issue for the Controller. In the grand scheme of things, it played into his system.

  Just like everything else.

  But beyond those flashes of colour, Southbank was a grey-washed world, the skies mostly murky, the people mostly mild. I saw it all in my mind as a great machine, every person a tiny cog, playing their role. On Sundays, the machine shut down, and those cogs stopped spinning. Tomorrow, they'd start up again. And on the cycle went.

  With the morning still young, we reached my neighbourhood, and ventured towards the safe-house around the corner from my unit. We stepped inside the building and Ford unlocked the door. Not until we were alone again, and in private, did we begin to speak more freely.

  "Here," Ford said, handing me the key. Like the other units here, the locks were basic, and security low. It was standard issue like everything else. "I have another copy, but this is going to be yours."

  I took it and slipped it into my pocket. He moved to the wall, and activated the hidden panel there with his thumb and index finger. The concealed wall-screen bloomed to life, as it had several days before. I found myself glancing around, wondering what else might be hidden here. There was certainly a great deal more than met the eye in this not-so-standardised housing unit.

  "OK, I'm going to configure the panel to be opened by your unique prints. Come here."

  I moved over, and went through the security protocols, my right thumb and index finger scanned to be used to unlock the panel.

  "Always make sure you shut things down before leaving," Ford went on, explaining things as we went through them. He tapped a few times on the panel, and the wall-screen brought up a number of camera images from the street outside, and wider neighbourhood beyond. "Keep an eye on what's going on outside," he said, "and you'll have some warning should the custodians come by. It shouldn't be a problem, but just keep it in mind. It's also best if you enter the building when no one else is around. Wear your trench coat and keep your face concealed. That's how I enter. Better if anyone spotting you thinks it's the same person com
ing in and out."

  "Right," I said. "And no one in the building has become suspicious yet?"

  "People don't tend to care much," he said. "We haven't been using this unit as a safe-house for too long. We got it for a specific purpose, really." He looked me directly in the eye. "You."

  He stepped to the bed at that, and took a grip of the frame. With a glance back at me, and a playful wink, he pulled upwards, and the bed pulled out from the floor, swivelling around and revealing a workstation on the other side. He set it down into place again. It came equipped with several storage compartments, which he opened up to reveal a range of parts and tools.

  "There are more in the storage unit," he said, looking to the standard issue shelving cupboard. "There's secret panelling behind the shelves. The place is designed to have the appearance of a standard apartment unit at a glance, but any full search will reveal the truth. We obviously don't want that. Be careful when you enter and exit and we shouldn't have a problem."

  I nodded, looking around. A gleeful smile began to pull at the corners of my lips, though slightly tempered by the rampant illegality of all of this. Getting caught here wasn't an option.

  I felt a slight weight of expectation and pressure too. My eyes forged a path, direct to Ford's. "So, you built all this for me?" I asked him. "How did you know I'd agree to help?"

  "We didn't know for sure," he said, "but felt confident you'd want to join us. It wasn't much work, really, but will give you the perfect place to operate from without compromising yourself. Like I say, avoid the busiest times when coming and going, and you'll be fine. If you think there's anyone who might be growing suspicious of you, let me know immediately. Don't act upon it yourself."

  I nodded. "And how can I contact you?"

  "I'll be around," he said. "You're my priority right now, Paige, so I'll be coming and going plenty."

  "And you'll keep me updated? With everything that's happening."

  "About Mantis?"

  I nodded.