Variant

by T. C. Edge

  "Of course."

  He didn't elaborate, and I couldn't say I fully trusted that he would. Still, I didn't push it, at least not then. There were other things to occupy my mind.

  "And..." I raised my eyes, looking at the workstation, and the storage units full of parts and gear. "What exactly do you want me to start working on? A new weapon? Better stealth tech?"

  I assumed it was something that would be useful in the fight against Mantis and his gang and the age-old struggle against the Reapers. Ford's request, then, was a little surprising.

  "You told me last night that you're close to making your chip undetectable by the ill-tech scanners?" he said.

  He was talking about the chip I used to hide my Variant signature. I nodded.

  "Well, keep working on that," he told me. "That's the first thing to crack. If you can make it so that the ill-tech scanners can't pick up that chip, then that sort of technology could be used for other applications as well."

  "Um, sure, if that's what you want," I said. "You think that might be useful for the VLA?"

  "Most certainly," he told me. "If we can make other forms of technology untraceable, then it would be extremely beneficial."

  "Right, of course," I said. "Then I'll get right on with it. Shouldn't take too long to crack the code."

  "Great. That's where to start, at least."

  Again, I felt mildly disappointed by the request - after all, it wasn't particularly exciting. Still, it was useful, not only for me, but for others as well. If others could wear the same chip as me, that hid their Variant signature, and wasn't detectable as ill-tech, then that could save a lot of people from being caught and captured.

  Not only that, but it would also be useful for other devices as well, helping the VLA conceal their own illegal technology if venturing out on missions.

  Either way, it would make a big difference, and I felt eager to get started immediately.

  "So, any questions? You happy with the parts and tools?"

  I glanced over them. There was a great assortment, a lot better than I was used to. It was more than enough to get started with.

  "You can run simulations with the computer as well, if you think it will be useful," Ford continued. "It should help cut down on trial and error, and speed things up when in any design phase. You know how to use it?"

  I looked at the screen and panel next to it. "It's holographic too?" I asked.

  "Sure," Ford said.

  "Then I'll work it out," I told him. "I don't have a lot of experience with this tech, but it comes quite naturally to me."

  "Perfect," he smiled. "Then, if there's nothing else, I guess I should get going."

  I felt a mild deflation at the prospect. I was getting quite accustomed to his company.

  "I'll be back in a couple of days," he said, as if noticing the subtle change in my expression. "I'll send a message here, which will appear on the screen, telling you when I'm coming. What are we now?" he asked himself vaguely. "Sunday, right. OK, let's say Tuesday, I'll come by in the evening. See if you've made any progress."

  I nodded. It felt like a target and a challenge, to have something positive to report. If I could fashion a workable chip that could get around the ill-tech scanners by then...

  It was a motivating goal.

  "For now, I guess this is goodbye. You going to start working right now?"

  "Should probably go and get changed first," I said.

  "Right then, I'll walk you home."

  We left the safe-house quietly, Ford checking his surveillance device to make sure that no one in the building, or on the street beyond, might see us. It was being overly safe, perhaps, but a good habit to get into. We continued through the district until we reached my road. The morning was getting on a little bit now, and Ford still had to get back to the Eastbends. This probably wasn't time he needed to waste.

  "You going to get the Skytube back?" I asked him.

  There were a few different tracks that ran across the city, and a couple of them ventured out that way. The stops and stations nearest the Bends were, of course, the most dangerous. Anyone who accidentally took the wrong line would often return home having been robbed or worse.

  "I try to avoid it, if I can," he said. "Custodians often gather at the stations. We don't tend to get along."

  He lifted a smile as we neared my building. I glanced to Becca's apartment block, wondering if she was about. I suppose she wasn't likely to be anywhere else, though did like to jog on Sundays. She wasn't particularly athletic, but liked to keep fit. The endorphins, she told me, gave her a good feeling.

  "Well, I guess this is it," said Ford. "It's been something of an adventure, Paige Adler. I'll look forward to the next one."

  He took my hand and, in a flourish, kissed the back of my palm. I would expect to find the gesture ridiculous, but for some reason I didn’t. It was very old fashioned, and quite odd these days. Yet it harkened back to a time of chivalry, and I had to say, I rather liked that.

  He stepped away with a smile, and my hand slipped back into the cold. I watched him turn and move off down the street and around the corner, only stepping to my door when he'd disappeared out of sight.

  I felt alive as I moved up the steps, my life given some extra purpose, my path now better defined and set. It was a rare thing for anyone here to have something like that to grasp onto.

  What people saw as a curse, I saw as a blessing. My people were hunted, but that gave me something to fight for. It gave my life some meaning.

  I reached the top floor of my building and turned to step down the corridor. And there, standing at my door, was my mother.

  Looking most displeased.

  14

  "Hi, mum, anything interesting planned for today?"

  I played it casual as I walked towards my door, despite the obvious displeasure on her face. Her eyes ran me up and down and saw that I was wrapped in my trench coat. She probably knew that I was wearing my stealth suit underneath, and that I'd likely spent my Saturday night in the Bends or somewhere else of ill repute .

  "The weather's clearing a little bit," I continued lightly. "Who knows, maybe the sun might even come out. You should go to the old riverbank. You might get a good view of Northbank today I reckon..."

  I reached the door and put my key to the lock, though it didn't seem to fit. It took a second to realise that I was using the key Ford had given me for the safe-house. I fished around in my pocket again and brought out the appropriate key, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  Mother, obviously, saw it all.

  "Where were you last night?" she asked me, as she followed me into my unit. I shut the door. Above, the engineering works had been shut down for the day, the workers taking their Sunday off too.

  "Last night?" I repeated, giving myself a moment to forge an excuse and build a believable lie. "I was...I was here." I put my key down on the table and turned to her with a smile. "You look nice today. New scarf?"

  "I've had this scarf for years," she said, "as you well know. And no, you weren't here. I came knocking several times and not once did you answer."

  I nodded, then yawned. "Long week," I said. "I was exhausted. Must have passed out, I guess, so didn't hear you."

  I smiled again, though kept my trench coat locked up tight.

  She stared at it, her eyes flat. "You know how much it hurts me when you lie to me, Paige," she said dourly. "You know very well that I don't believe you. Just admit that you were out last night and didn't come home. Admit that you were in the Bends."

  I let out a sigh, realising there was little point in continuing the deception. "Fine, I was in the Bends, OK. You know I go there. What's the big surprise?"

  "Do I look surprised? I'm only disappointed."

  "Disappointed that I'm trying to make a difference?"

  "A difference? By following the same path as your father. By joining the VLA."

  She stared at me and I stared right back. I'd slept OK last night, given ever
ything that had happened, but still didn't have the energy for this.

  "Who says I'm joining the VLA?" I asked.

  "You," she said. "The other night. I saw your face when you spoke about them, about this young man you met. What was his name? Ford Carson? A handsome face like that. Yes, I see how that would turn you to their cause."

  "You think I'm that shallow?" I countered, insulted by the suggestion. "And how do you know how handsome he is?"

  "Because I just saw the two of you outside on the street," she said. She looked to the door. She must have been lingering by the window at the end of the corridor, waiting for me to come back. "I know it was him. He looks just like his father."

  "Carson," I said. "Ford's dad. You said you barely remembered him?"

  "I remember enough."

  "And? So Ford wants me to help them out, big deal. You know I'm trying to help anyway, mum. This way, I can do so with the backing and support of the VLA. I can do some actual good."

  "And get yourself killed in the process," she returned, speaking quite forcefully. "I left the VLA to protect you, not to have you go running back to them as soon as some boy comes swaggering into your life..."

  "He's not just some boy," I said. "He's nice. He's smart. And he saved my life last night!"

  Her eyes narrowed in anger and fear. "Saved your life?" she breathed. "From who? What...what have you gotten yourself into, Paige? What have you been doing!"

  It was a mistake to reveal such a thing. I realised it too late.

  "It's nothing, mum, don't worry. Just a...a misunderstanding, that's all."

  She shook her head several times, breathing out, mumbling to herself. For a moment she began pacing around the room, slightly manic in her expression. Something, over the years, had truly begun to break in her. My behaviour, and the increasing risks that came with it, only served to further unsettle her.

  "Look, it's all fine now, mum, really. I won't be going to the Bends again. Not for a while. I promise."

  I stepped over and took her hand, stopping her from moving. Her fingers were trembling, her eyes glistening with the threat of tears. I hated seeing her behave like this, and felt like quitting each time I did. I always wondered if she knew. If she exaggerated her behaviour to make me feel guilty, knowing it would help keep me in check. It was a cynical thought, but perhaps a realistic one. I might see it as subtle manipulation. She'd only see it as a way of protecting her daughter.

  "I'm going to be helping them, mum, OK," I said softly. "I don't want to lie to you, but you make it hard to tell you the truth. Can't you just...support me? Isn't that what a parent is meant to do?"

  "A parent is meant to protect their child," she mumbled quietly. "How can I support something I don't believe in?"

  "You don't have to believe in it," I said. "You just have to believe in me."

  She lifted her eyes, and something - something small - changed. It was agreement I saw, or at least some mild acceptance. It was, perhaps, the first sign that she knew she had to let go.

  Because the tighter she squeezed, the more I was slipping away. Perhaps, in that moment, she realised that.

  She nodded. "I do believe in you, darling," she whispered. "I believe you are special, and can achieve special things..."

  "And you think I'm going to do that packing ration boxes?" I asked, lifting a wry smile. "I won't, mum. No one can achieve anything special around here. But by helping the VLA, perhaps I can."

  She drew a long breath into her lungs, and I could see that she wanted to continue to battle, continue to deny me, try to shift me from my path. Her face flickered, a hundred micro expressions dancing upon it, but she held her form and held her pose. Then, drawing me into a hug, she began to speak.

  "You'll tell me what's happening with you?" she asked through a whisper. "You'll keep me informed?"

  I nodded against her shoulder. "Of course."

  It was a lie, or a half-truth at least. I'd tell her what she needed to know, I'd tell her what she could handle. The full truth would need to be managed and censored. It was best for both of us that way.

  "You promise?"

  The question preceded a slight delay. I didn't speak this time, but merely nodded once more. She didn't ask again. I think, deep down, she knew.

  "OK." She drew back from me, and cupped her palm to my cheek. A sweet smile overtook her face. She looked so tired, like she hadn't slept all night. "You should rest, sweetheart," she said to me. "If you're going to live this double life, you need to find sleep where you can."

  Her hand withdrew, and then she followed, stepping away and out through the door. I looked to my bed; suddenly it had a strong appeal. Conversations with my mother tended to take the energy out of me. I felt drained enough to abandon my afternoon plans and take a nap instead.

  Can you make a difference when you're sleeping, Paige? a voice inside me asked.

  I stopped as I took a pace towards the bed. The voice was right. There was no time to rest. People were counting on me now, and I wasn't about to let them down.

  I quickly changed, stashing my stealth suit and pistol and pulling on a pair of grey jeans and black sweater. I added my standard issue raincoat over the top, the one everyone around here wore, and pulled the light hood over my head, as Ford had suggested, to help conceal my face as I ventured towards the safe-house.

  I returned there within a few minutes, checking the coast was clear and stepping inside. It felt different being there without Ford, though the thought of him brought a smile. I moved in and activated the hidden panel, bringing up the wall screen, and sifting through the various camera displays. I recognised all of the different positions, stretched across the district in all directions. They'd give me plenty of warning if any custodians were in the area, or if any local resident was waiting outside when I wanted to leave. It was an impressive and exhaustive system. The VLA clearly took security extremely seriously.

  I spent the next hour or so just going through the various parts and checking the tools on hand to play with. Some would be loud to operate, yet came with silencing functions that helped drown out the noise. Others might require protection for my hands, for which I found a pair of gloves that would withstand any major slip-ups.

  I checked the computer and simulator too, as well as the holographic imaging tech. I didn't have much experience with them, but took to them quickly enough. One particular program was of major interest. It allowed me to create prototypes on the large wall screen, before running them through the simulator to see if, and how well they'd work, and even try using them in holographic form.

  When designing armour, combat gear, and weaponry, all of that would come in particularly handy.

  Several hours passed like that, as I let my imagination run wild. It wasn't until mid afternoon that I realised I was, technically, wasting time, given my assigned task. I turned my attention to the chip that concealed my Variant signature, which I'd decided to call my V-Sig chip for short. The goal was clear - make sure the V-Sig chip could not be detected by ill-tech scanners. I had a couple of days to try to figure that out.

  I set to the task, and the hours swiftly fled. In that small, windowless room, I begin to lose track of time. Occasionally, I'd glance back and check the cameras on the screen. In the blink of an eye, daylight had faded and the night had taken root. Before long, the entire street was sleeping peacefully, every occupant of every unit preparing for another long week.

  Except me.

  I sat at my workstation, and disappeared into my world. And in that trance-like state, I didn't even realise it when I'd fallen asleep as well.

  15

  I pulled back from my workstation, my hair flattened on one side from lying on my folded arms.

  I let out a yawn and stretched, feeling exhausted. Idly, I swivelled in my chair, looking to the camera images displayed on the screen on the wall. It took a moment for it to register that they were no longer staring down into the darkened streets.

  Now, it was light.r />
  Now, it was morning.

  I stood, suddenly, and my eyes fled to the small clock at the edge of the workstation. I'd placed it there to keep an eye on the time. It said 7:56 am. I was meant to be at work by 8.

  Shit!

  Without thinking, I grabbed my raincoat and fled from the room, locking the door as I left but leaving the rest as it was. I had to be at work in four minutes and it was a twenty or more minute walk from here. Running, it would take a relatively fit person at least seven or eight. If I used my Variant speed I could do it in a fraction of that, but I couldn't...

  Could I?

  I hit the street and worked quickly to the west, needing to get home first. I was wearing home clothes, and needed to be in my overalls. I got there within a minute and rushed upstairs. By the time I'd changed and got back down, over two minutes had already elapsed.

  Two minutes to get to work from here wasn't possible. I'd have to run at my full, enhanced speed and even then it would be difficult. A number of cameras would pick me up. If I stopped to scramble them that would slow me down too much.

  One way or another, I'd screwed this up.

  I had less than ten minutes to think of an excuse.

  I set off at a run, though moved at a decidedly human pace. The streets were completely deserted, everyone having set off already. It was strange to see it like this in the daylight. I was used to seeing the city this way after curfew, but certainly not before.

  My mind searched for a suitable excuse to present to Mr Beecham as I went. Each one came and went with the conclusion that it wouldn't be good enough. The only viable reason to miss work was through illness, which had to be officially signed off by the doctor. I wasn't about to do that. For obvious reasons, I avoided doctors like the plague; even if I contracted it I still wouldn't go see one.

  My mind was still drawing a blank when I panted my way towards the front exit of the warehouse, towards the eastern fringe of the sprawling industrial district. Being Monday, I grew concerned that the custodians may have come by for a randomised test, but if they were planning to, they hadn't quite yet. I pressed in through the doors as the sound of the warehouse began to ring. Everything was already in motion. It was only 8:09 am and it looked like the workers had been there for hours, judging my the dour looks on their faces.