by Terry Tyler
"It's Dan! Dan's back! Come and meet him! Oh, wow―he's not going to believe this!"
We meet Dan, and Lock and Shanna, who were on the boat with him, and another woman called Beth who was out getting fish smoked when Ace and I arrived. It's a delightful evening; the fish that tastes better than any I have ever tasted before, with more of the wonderful bread, and vegetables that come from a garden in the village.
"Some of us fish, others grow vegetables and bake," Lilyn tells me. "There are twenty-six of us in Waxingham; we all work together."
I smile. "A bit like an off-grid, then?"
"Hardly," says Lock. "We're squatting, remember?"
Yep, that's me, feeling like an idiot again.
"Yeah, but on land that no one wants," says Shanna. "That's why it's called the wasteland."
"We're going to have to move further in this winter, though," Dan says. "The sea's inching closer all the time. And the gales are getting worse."
"Is that because of climate change?" I ask. "I thought that wasn't so much of a problem now."
They all laugh.
"Who told you that?" says Lilyn, but not unkindly.
Dan pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth, and says, "Seriously, is that what they tell you in the megacities?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Fucking weird. It's been a major issue since the end of the twentieth century."
There is much nodding in agreement and tutting over the fact that I don't know much about it; all eyes are on me, and I don't have anything useful to contribute.
"Sorry, but we don't hear about it, no. My friend Colt used to seek stuff out on underground sites, but all we read is the positive―like, now that even electric cars are banned in the megacities, worldwide, and with new laws about factory and farming waste and more than half the people eating cultured meat and non-dairy, the ecological Armageddon has been avoided; all we have to do is carry on the way we are. And there are schemes afoot for reforestation of unused areas, all over the planet."
They're all silent for a moment.
Ace says, "What unused areas?"
"I'm not sure." I swallow, hard.
"What about the drop in population?" asks Lock. "How do they explain that?"
"The birth restrictions, and the continuing emergence of new zoonotic viruses, for which there is no vaccine."
Lilyn and her friends look at each other, and shake their heads in slightly amused despair, which pisses me off.
"Look, I'm sorry if I don't have all the answers, or that my knowledge isn't all that it should be, or that I might have swallowed a certain amount of bullshit, but if you'd lived in the megacity all your life, you'd be the same. It's not that I'm uninterested, or choose not to be aware."
Lock touches me on the arm. "No, I'm sorry, Rae. It's been twelve years since I fucked off out of MC10. I'd forgotten about the control of information."
They stop looking dumbfounded at my ignorance, and nod gravely. I won't say anything, but I can't help thinking that their information could be out of date, too; they don't even have the internet. Right now, though, I don't care. I'm just happy that I've found my sister.
Ace remains silent, but the other five become involved in an earnest discussion about what evils might be occurring within the government-run farms, and I quietly consider all that Lilyn said earlier, about the benefits of living in the megacity and her pregnancy. Most of us base our life choices around the immediate problems facing our lives. We're insular. Only the very few, like Xav, actually try to alter the big picture; most of us just complain without taking action. Like those who make politically or environmentally-aware statements on Heart―demonstrating their awareness makes them feel they're doing something positive, when in fact they're just complaining to a wider audience. It's no different from and no more effective than what Lilyn and her friends are doing now.
All of which makes me understand what Ginevra said about the majority grumbling about the shift to the megacities, but accepting it nonetheless.
Ginevra. I haven't thought about her all day. All hell must have broken loose back in MC12, and I know nothing about it.
Losing my com isn't all bad.
We're put up for the night in another house nearby, but I lie awake, my mind buzzing with everything that's happened. It's been a long day, my eyes are heavy, my body needs rest, but my mind won't calm down. Ace, however, has no problem at all; he's snoring across the room from me. We talked for a while before we turned in; he told me some bits and bobs about how the community in Fennington is run, but when I asked him about himself, how he came to join them, he dried up, and said it was time for sleep.
Tomorrow we will set off for two off-grids in North Yorkshire, on the chance in a million that my brother might be living in one of them. I feel fairly comfortable with Ace, but it's an odd companionship. I'm not used to the lack of chatter; in MC12 everyone is constantly communicating, expressing every opinion, thought and emotion, messaging with ani-mates, interfacing, holochatting. At Balance, we're encouraged to share, all the time. To not keep anything in. It was the same at college. Ace, though, only speaks when he has something to say, and I suspect most of what he is thinking goes unsaid.
He has kind, intelligent eyes, though. Underneath all that hair.
Lilyn doesn't want me to go.
"I don't want you to be disappointed," she says, over breakfast. "He'll be in a Hope somewhere, under a different name."
"She's gotta try," says Ace, taking a sip of his tea.
"I have. There's no harm in looking. And we're going as far as Cumbria, anyway, because Ace wants to visit a friend up there."
Lilyn smooths her hand over her bump. "I just don't want you to go, now I've found you." Her smile is so pretty. "I never dreamt I'd ever see you again, not in a million years."
My eyes tear up again. "I'll come back." I glance at Ace. "Can we?"
"Sure." He stands up. "Okay if I go down and have a look at these boats before we go?"
"Yes―yes, Dan's down there already." We look out of the window. "That's Jude, who he's talking to."
I watch him walking towards the jetty, and am hit with the realisation that I haven't got a clue what comes next. If I don't follow Plan A―return to MC12―what do I do with my life? Live in Fennington and become as Sloane and Dior, waiting in dark houses for people like me to turn up? Or do I come back here, smoke fish, grow vegetables and worry about the sea coming through my front door? Concentrate on being Auntie Rae to my niece or nephew? I can't imagine not getting up and going to work every morning. Not having a purpose.
Perhaps working for Link will be that purpose. A better one.
I imagine going back, and forgetting all I've heard. Nash and I will probably break up, if we haven't already. I'll carry on being a good Balance counsellor and maybe end up doing a job like Ginevra's. I'll have 'fun' during my twenties, then meet some other guy and get married. Have my one child, unless the currently faceless father has an A- or B-grade job, in which case I may have two or even three. My family will become my purpose, along with my job. We'll have a good life, constantly stimulated, amused and entertained by all that is available in MC12, while we save up for holidays in the permitted countries. When we're seventy, husband and I will toddle along to our little flat in the Senior Village, and settle into our twilight years. That's my life, all mapped out, give or take a few variations.
Before, I would have been happy with that. It was all I expected. Now, though, it just seems like one big virtual reality.
Sod it. I can't think about next week right now, let alone the next ten or twenty years. I've found my sister, and I'm going to do everything I can to find my brother, too. That's enough for now.
Chapter 20
MC 12
Nula Black has watched the footage from the cams, and isn't sure if she buys this abduction theory. How come she woke up the minute that rat arsehole sat on top of her, but Rae and Colt didn't? And why did they take those two, but not her?
Then agai
n, she did put up a fight. Perhaps they thought soggy little Rae would be an easier target. And that sly friend of hers. Colt. Now, there's a guy with an ulterior motive if ever there was one, and it appears Rae only took him with her because she has the hots for him; Nula has spoken to the girlfriend. Lori. A Barbie doll squelching with venom where her 'friend' is concerned. Question is why Colt agreed to go. Does he have the hots for Rae, too, or was he just eager for a couple of Barbie-free days?
Nula is not happy. She was found the next morning, still passed out cold from whatever the rat pumped into her veins. The rat who nicked her necklace. The physical stuff she can deal with, but that necklace had sentimental value―it was her present to herself when she gained her First in 21st Century Culture from MC12 University. And she didn't appreciate being shaken into consciousness by that skanky wastelander woman, either. Thad was called, and they brought her round with several cups of the revolting muck they call coffee.
"It'll be the Link network," Thad said, nodding sagely, like he'd just solved a major mystery.
"You're shitting me." Nula could hardly bear to look at him. Stupid bastard. The real wastelanders she has some respect for, but not this half-cocked variety, who sell their souls for a com and some megacity meds.
"Au contraire, I shit you not," he said, with smug grin, clearly impressed with the wit of his own banter. "Could be they’ll demand a ransom."
"If it was a genuine abduction, it means one of your crew has divided loyalties."
"Nuh-uh, no way." Thad shook a grimy-nailed finger at her. "Not my guys. No, that Link lot, they'll have lookouts to track pods arriving here. They'll be after delivery timetables, locations of weed farms and whatnot, so they can ambush." That smug look again. "That, or it was planned with Link ops inside MC12, to get them out."
Nula stared at him with glazed eyes. "Wow, you've really got your finger on the pulse. Good thing you're here, or we'd all be fucking clueless."
His cheeks coloured up―what she could see of them underneath that revolting, untrimmed beard. He made her sick. They all made her sick. She couldn't get back into her pod and on the road fast enough.
She alerted Quinn Matheson at Missing Persons as soon as she was aware what had gone down, and Quinn offered her a day's decompress in the Wellness Centre's healing suite, but Nula doesn't do that whiny-arse shit. She picked up a sandwich and some decent coffee at the Gate 27's 2-Go on the way in, then nipped home to shower, change, watch the cam feed, make a few calls to people like Lori Lawson, and headed straight in for her debrief.
"Between you and me―and I mean strictly between you and me―we're not bothered about Rae and Colt per se." Quinn turns to her screen and provides a sixty miles per hour overview of Rae and Colt's lives. "A D-grade Balance counsellor and Locate officer―they're ten a penny. The only thing that worries me is that they might spread false propaganda about the megacities, or give out logistics information." She gives Nula a knowing nod. "Especially if tortured. You had a lucky escape."
Nula stares back at Quinn's self-satisfied face, and wants to punch it. "So you don't think this was organised by Link, to get them out?"
Quinn laughs, which infuriates Nula even more. "Oh, come on. They're megacity through and through. Colt dabbles in a bit of stuff he didn't ought on the dark net, but he's no rebel. Rae Farrer moves in very small circles, leads a totally uneventful life, give or take cheating on her boyfriend not only with Colt Douglas in gym cubicles, but also a lowly data collator. Look; she had a cosy little rendezvous in Nerve, and was stupid enough to com it." She brings up a picture of Rae kissing a young man at a bar, then another one of her and Colt entering the changing cubicles at Mojo. "Puts it about a bit, doesn't she? Seriously, thought, she has no connection to anyone we suspect."
Nula shakes her head in disbelief. "What about those you don't suspect? Might they not be worth looking into?"
Quinn sighs, like she can't really be bothered with any of this, and brings up more IDs. "Nash Green. Major dick. Thinks his many social demerits are funny, according to the messages he sends to his chums. Lori Lawson: makes Nash Green look like a deep thinker―I see you've already spoken to her, so you know that. The rest of their social circle are just your average twenty-somethings who go clubbing once a week, do blitz twice a year and get laid whenever possible. Not an original or vaguely anarchic thought in their heads. Then there's Ginevra Carlton, Farrer's CSG. Age sixty-five, hasn't been fucked for twelve years, lives alone, small circle of friends. Visits ancient mother in the Senior Village―" here, she taps the screen "―who was also visited by Rae Farrer."
"Doesn't that seem odd?"
Quinn laughs. "Why? Nice young woman visits nice boss's ancient mother, to hear more about the pre-megacity world that fascinates her so much, and gets a couple of social credits into the bargain―what odd about that? Stop looking for a story."
Nula exhales in frustration. "So what's going to happen? Are we getting scouts out? Drones?"
"We'll comply with standard procedures, but we're not too worried; we've seen the odd abduction in the past, and the captives were returned unharmed. They'll be back soon enough. Good news is that neither of them can give the rats any info they don't know already, and they're both NPUs―no parents to contend with. Ginevra, Lori and Nash might make some noise, but that's all."
"So that's that?"
"Yep. That's that."
Why won't Quinn look at her?
"This isn't right. You don't know they've been abducted―and if this was a planned escape they must have had help from Link operatives, by which I mean Link operatives right here, in MC12. Quinn? Are you listening? Why isn't this being looked into?"
Quinn takes her eyes from her screen, and drops her hands onto her lap. "Nula, just leave it. Rae Farrer and Colt Douglas are really not that important."
"I know they're not, but a potential Link connection within MC12 is."
"What part of 'just leave it' didn't you understand?" Quinn swivels round on her chair. "Why not take that decompress day? Might help you get your head straight."
"My head is perfectly straight―"
"Have an hour's reiki; it's marvellous." She swivels back, away from Nula. "Could you be a love and close the door on your way out?"
Quinn picks up her com.
"Nula Black's just left. Mm-mm, but she won't pursue, she's far too self-orientated. Yes, they're ideal, they can both go straight onto 10/B as soon as they're picked up, no need for assessment. Oh yes, it's almost definitely Ginevra Carlton, but I have instructions that no further action is to be taken." She smiles. "She'll be out of a job within the month, anyway!"
Her mild chuckle echoes that of the person on the other end of the line, after which she makes enquiries into their health and that of their family, and ends the call.
The glorious silver stripes in her hair give Lori Lawson a thrill every time she looks at them. Oh, the joy of a new do―just what a girl needs when her boyfriend has done a bunk with someone she was naïve enough to consider a friend!
Even Atlanta said, "You have to take that head out to Parasol tonight. Colt would go airborne if he saw you out on your own looking like that―you show him!"
"You have such a gentle, beautiful soul," Sian messaged her, publicly, "but you're way too trusting. Sadly, the world is full of demons like them hurting angels like you. Spread those heavenly wings and fly, high above them!"
The message gained hundreds of ani-mates: cherubs blowing kisses, hearts breaking, women joining hands, fairies with wands sprinkling angel dust.
Lori consulted Zhavia, her media stylist, who saw this development as only positive.
"Being wronged by both your man and your girlfriend can be a great look, if you wear it well. Bravely soldiering on, still looking fabulous despite your pain."
Lori listened, and followed her instructions. Hard though it was to sit it out, she spent one night alone, incommunicado, secure in the knowledge that Heart would be in uproar over her no-show. Zhavia ke
pt her updated, advising her that the way things were going, she might even make an appearance on the trending lists!
Colt doesn't know she has a media stylist. Never mind showing off her new do in public―Zhavia's monthly bill would send him airborne all by itself. Not that Lori has any intention of him finding out.
The next night she emerged to holochat with her besties, looking stylishly wan in cute white velvet PJs: a cropped hoodie and shorts. Every one of them encouraged her to get herself out there, because she's so much better than Rae and Colt, who aren't fit to lick her new, baby pink, patent leather ankle boots.
What a bitch Rae turned out to be! Luring Colt away, just because Nash didn't fancy her any more―Sian, Atlanta and Marco have all said that her motivation was, like, so obvious. Meanwhile, Heart is buzzing; have they really been abducted, or have they done a bunk together?
To Lori, the truth almost doesn't matter. Colt chose to go out into the horrible, dangerous wasteland with Rae, without a thought for how she felt about it. On the upside, this actually has so much mileage; she's always fancied doing the beautiful and brave bit, but didn’t have anything to be brave about before. She's meeting everyone in Parasol in half an hour; Zhavia advised that the third night was the right time to make a public appearance.
"You're about to trend in MC12 district; let's see if we can get you national, shall we?"
She gives her reflection another satisfied smirk, and picks up her com. Ah―a post from Nash!
Thanks so much, everyone, for your kind words and messages―it's devastating not knowing where Rae is, but I'm holding it together, because that's what she'd want me to do, and I'm confident that Missing Persons will locate them before too long. Most of all, a huge thank you to my awesome, brave, beautiful friend Lori, who I know is in so much pain―Lori, I'm with you every step of the way, holding your hand until Colt and Rae are returned to us.
