Woo stares at me with her not-impressed/could-really-do-without-this resting face.
I’ve had enough of waiting.
I walk towards the door to my father’s office. It’s not protected by the same technology as the rest of the building. He creates the most advanced technological systems but he prefers to be surrounded with things that remind him of his past, of the world he came from. The steel desk is the last metallic surface I see as I head down the oak-clad corridor towards his office.
As I get closer I can see light through the frosted glass coming from inside and his silhouette waving his arms in the air.
‘Bram!’ Woo calls, her hologram glitching slightly as she tries to keep up with me. ‘Dr Wells!’
I open the door without knocking.
My father whips around to face me from beside his leather-bound desk, but he can’t see me through the visor on his head. A pilot’s visor.
He rips it off and, for a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of the display inside. I recognize it instantly. The Dome.
‘Bram? What are you doing here?’ He’s obviously flustered.
‘Sorry, Dad,’ I say, as Woo arrives at the doorway, appearing out of breath.
‘Dr Wells, he pushed past, I couldn’t –’
‘It’s okay, Woo,’ my father says, holding up his hands to calm her. ‘You can leave us.’
Woo shoots me the filthiest look, then disappears back down the hall.
‘Come in and close the door,’ my father tells me.
I do as he says, and while my back is turned, I hear the elastic snap of him removing his kinetic gloves. ‘I’ve been testing some software updates to the system. I think you’re going to like them,’ he says, pointing to the visor lying on his desk.
‘Sounds exciting,’ I say, not sounding in the least bit excited as my mind races forward, assessing the best way to get the answers I need from him.
‘That is, if you return from this suspension, of course. How are you coping? What’s it been – two days now?’ he asks, packing the visor into a titanium case.
‘Fine,’ I lie, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
‘Really?’ The foam lining squeaks as he slides the visor snugly inside. The sound makes me shudder. ‘That’s disappointing. I was hoping it would be a lesson to you, son.’
Son. The way he emphasizes the word makes it seem forced. Like he’s so not used to saying it.
‘A lesson?’ I ask.
‘Yes, a lesson in discipline. A lesson in restraint. For too long you’ve walked the line and your name, my name, has kept you here when so many others would have lost a whole lot more than their jobs,’ he spits, not making eye contact with me.
‘That’s the only reason I’m here, is it? Because of your name? Not because I’m the best-performing pilot the EPO has ever employed, or the longest-serving, most dedicated member of the squad? The one Eve trusts more than anyone else?’ I bite back, my heart beginning to race.
‘Eve trusts you, that’s true, but you have abused that trust, like other foolish young men before you.’ Carefully and precisely, he closes the lid to the visor case and locks it with his thumbprint.
‘Well, I guess that’s something we all have in common in this place,’ I snap. He doesn’t say anything but his face dares me to continue the thought. ‘We’ve all abused her trust. Everyone in this place, from the guards at level zero through to Vivian in the penthouse. Eve lives up there in the “perfect” world Vivian invented for her, a world that you helped create, completely oblivious to reality.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ he says, holding up his hands, mocking surrender. ‘But tell me, son,’ he moves to the window and flicks his wrist, ‘would this inspire you to save humanity?’
The outside storm bursts to life on the screen. Rain pounds the side of the Tower as a bolt of lightning illuminates the pollution clouds, bathing the room in a deep, eerie purple.
‘Would you want to save a race that has done everything but completely destroy the planet sustaining it?’ he asks, and there’s fire in his eyes that I’ve not seen since we first came here. When Vivian plucked him from the gutter and gave him purpose, gave him power.
‘If that would be her choice, then it’s one we surely deserve. What gave us the right to decide for her?’ I ask, slowly and calmly.
‘My God, boy, you’re beginning to sound like one of them.’ He seems truly disgusted by my question as he points to the faint silhouette of the city’s cloudscrapers in the distance.
There is silence. The atmosphere is thick. I can sense his frustration with me building, like the storm. The signals he’s projecting are hateful. My father can’t even look at me.
‘How is she?’ I ask.
‘You’re not permitted to know that while you’re on suspension,’ he replies.
‘Oh, come on, Dad. Is she okay?’ I ask again.
He closes his eyes and sighs, letting his shoulders sink underneath his crisp, deep red shirt. ‘I think it’s time you returned to your dorm and studied,’ he says bluntly.
‘Sending me to my room? I’m not a kid any more.’
He pauses. I sense his irritation at my persistence but I hold my ground. I’m not going anywhere.
‘What did you come here for?’ he asks, obviously wanting to get rid of me.
‘I need some answers.’
The room is quiet and my father is still. I see lightning striking the city, reflected in the lenses of my father’s glasses as he stares outside. Magnified and warped. That’s how he views the world.
‘Answers?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘Answers require questions,’ he says.
‘Corinne Warren,’ I say slowly. That name is never spoken here, not unless it’s whispered behind closed doors. It feels strange forming her name with my lips.
My father’s eyebrow twitches. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen as he squints, obliterating the freckles and moles that surround them. ‘A name is not a question,’ he says.
‘No, but that name raises so many I’m not sure where to begin,’ I reply. ‘I’ve heard so many stories about Eve’s mother, so many theories, and if any of them were true …’
‘Yes?’ My father fills my silence.
‘Then surely you must know about it.’
I say it.
Just like that.
He moves nothing but his eyes. They lock with mine. He stares with an uncomfortable intensity that urges me to look away. I don’t.
‘What stories are you referring to?’ he asks.
‘You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play ignorant with me, Dad.’
He studies me as he would a chessboard, carefully plotting three moves ahead and never giving away his plan.
I don’t break the silence: it’s his move.
‘I’m assuming you’re referring to the rumours around Corinne’s death. Rumours concocted by a mentally ill, emotionally unstable man.’ He sounds like he’s reading some sort of press release. He’s been media-trained to perfection.
I nod.
‘Tell me, who speaks about these stories in here?’ he asks.
I pause. He’s trying to distract me with this question, pretending he wants to discover the source of my knowledge while he prepares his true attack.
‘Everyone,’ I say simply, shrugging it off, like it’s no big deal.
‘I see, and everyone assumes that because you are my son you must know something. That you must be in on it ?’ he says, almost smiling.
‘Something like that, yeah.’
Why is he laughing? Am I losing the game he’s playing or is this a bluff?
‘Funny, isn’t it, how people assume the importance of a relationship? How much stature you are bestowed because I chose to bless you with my name.’ He places the tips of his fingers together, his index fingers grazing his lips as they curl into a smile. ‘The truth, Bram, is that you were spared due to simple necessity.’
My turn to use silence
to dare him to continue.
‘When your mother joined the millions to fail to produce a female, you were to be disposed of along with the countless other boys that this planet had no room to accommodate.’
His words cut more than I expect them to. More than I think even he realizes. Did my mother agree to that?
‘I had no objections. It was nothing unusual. But your mother had other plans.’ He slips comfortably into his chair and crosses his legs casually. He’s enjoying this. ‘She hid you. Kept you secret from me until you were past the age when anyone respectable would … deal with you.’
My heart pounds at this new information about my existence. It aches at the thought of my mother fighting for me to live.
‘Of course, I was totally wrong.’
Did he just say that?
‘I thought you were just another male to join the endless list of missing boys , or whatever they call them these days. It was so obvious but I failed to see your potential. Until she came along.’
‘Eve,’ I say.
‘No.’ He laughs. ‘Miss Silva.’
He stands abruptly, becoming more animated as he reminisces.
‘She pulled me from the depths of that hellhole and saw the potential in my work. She had the resources to allow my imagination to run wild.’ He stands and moves to the window. ‘Of course, I never wanted to bring you here.’
If the window wasn’t just a realiTV screen I’d be tempted to push him through it.
‘Vivian needed a young female companion for Eve and my ideas were the answer. That was when the pilot technology was conceived and I just so happened to have the perfect guinea pig for my innovations.’
‘Guinea pig?’ I repeat, the words catching in my throat.
‘I think we both know that I’m not a model father. Even by today’s abysmal standards,’ he says.
‘Is that an excuse or an apology?’ I ask.
‘Neither. It is simply the truth.’
‘And what is simply the truth about Eve’s mother and father? Were they model parents?’
‘Unfortunately, I assume they would have been, yes,’ he snaps.
‘Unfortunately? Was that a problem? Were parents never part of the plan for Eve?’
‘Corinne and Ernie were too much of a risk. Their presence in her life made the future unpredictable. Vivian could not accept unpredictability –’ He stops himself. His cheeks are red and a vein in his forehead pulses with his breath.
I’m silent.
He’s silent.
My heart is pumping so hard I swear I can see the zip of my uniform jumping. I have to give myself a moment to absorb the information he just delivered. To figure out what this means.
‘Vivian did do something to Corinne.’ The words tumble out of my mouth – I’m speaking more to myself than to him.
His eyes slide up carefully, like they’re slicing me in two.
The rumours are true.
My father knows.
33
Bram
His breathing remains short. His eyes are fixed on mine and his body is rooted to the spot, but inside his brain he is frantic. Passion made him weak. He has made a wrong move.
‘So it’s true?’ I whisper, at first with disbelief. ‘Something more did happen …’ As I speak, I realize how obvious it is. ‘And you knew about it. You’ve always known.’
I stand immediately and head for the door but a firm grip restrains my wrist. I look down to see my father’s pale hand grasping it.
‘Son,’ he growls.
I snatch my arm away and move around the beaten leather chair, putting it between us.
‘Let me explain. You’re confused and your emotions are clouding your judgement,’ he says.
‘No, Father. I’m thinking clearly. Perhaps for the first time in my life I’m seeing things as they really are.’
‘And how’s that? What are you seeing?’ he asks.
‘I see that it’s not just Eve you’re keeping under this cloud of illusion. It’s all of us. It’s everyone in this place. We’re all being fed lie upon lie, and the real kick in the teeth is that it’s all to keep this lie alive,’ I say, spreading my arms wide in realization at the real purpose of this place. My head is sprinting. ‘It’s a perfect system. Completely screwed up, but perfect.’
My father has backed away. He’s listening to me, watching me as my mind opens to the reality of the world I’m living in.
‘So where is he?’ I ask.
‘He?’
‘Eve’s father. Where is he now?’
‘Oh, he’s somewhere safe. Somewhere he can’t hurt Eve.’
‘Stop lying!’ I scream. ‘I know now, Dad. I know the truth.’
‘I see,’ he says, leaning on his desk. ‘But if you were right, if the rumours were true, if the EPO purposely eliminated Eve’s parents from her future, how come you’re the only one to work it out? How come there haven’t been others?’
‘Oh, there are others,’ I say, as I walk to his realiTV monitor. ‘There are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of others who worked it out long before me. Who’ve been screaming it, marching against it, protesting it for years.’ I point out at the flooded city, hidden by pollution. ‘I never thought I’d say this but the damn Freevers were right.’
‘Then why hasn’t anyone in here done anything about it? Why haven’t we been stopped?’ he asks, and I notice that small, malicious smile twitch back on to his face.
My heart starts pounding.
‘People have worked it out. They’ve been figuring it out for years. But whenever someone gets too close to the truth they –’
Suddenly, red emergency lighting engulfs the room and the piercing screech of a siren vibrates inside my skull.
I see shattered glass on the floor by my father’s feet. Glass from the emergency alarm. My dad has pulled the security alarm on me.
In the pulsing red light, I catch a flash in the reflection of my father’s glasses as his head whips up from the top drawer of his vintage desk. Something glistens in the light. It’s heavy in his hands, as he raises the long barrel in my direction.
I dive behind the chair as he pulls the trigger of the antique weapon. The explosion blasts a hole twice as big as my head in the leather.
My body slides across the polished hardwood floor and I’m stopped only by the wall.
‘I should have done this the second you were born.’ He pulls the trigger again. The wood at my feet splinters into a thousand shards. His inexperienced aim and the age of the gun are the only reasons I’m not plastered all over the wall.
‘Dr Wells?’ Woo calls, from the other side of the door.
I take advantage of the distraction and bolt towards it. My father doesn’t hesitate. He wants me dead. I’m too dangerous now. I know too much.
He shoots.
The glass shatters, revealing Woo’s cowering figure. I leap through the now-empty frame and don’t look back.
Woo freezes on the spot, paralysed with her programmed fear in the centre of the hallway. I hurtle through her as though she’s nothing but air, disturbing the light-flow as I sprint down the corridor as fast as my boots will carry me. I don’t stop to see where the next shot lands but the shower of wood splinters and chippings suggests that it was the wall to my right.
My feet feel the smooth poured concrete under them as I land after hurdling the steel desk, the lights making everything red, then pitch black.
Red.
Black.
Red.
Black.
Ketch.
His squad exit the lift, armed and ready.
‘Arrest him!’ my father calls, as he rounds the corner, his gun nowhere to be seen. ‘He is a traitor and a liar and not to be trusted. He is now to be considered a threat to Eve’s safety. You have my orders to arrest him using any methods necessary.’
I look Ketch in the eye. I can see his confusion.
‘Bram,’ he says. ‘Let’s calm this down, shall we?’
‘You don’t have to do this, Ketch,’ I say, keeping my eye on all five members of his security force as they reposition themselves to get the advantage over me. ‘Don’t trust him, guys. We’ve all been lied to.’
‘He has been brainwashed. Do not listen to a word he is saying. Arrest him at once,’ my father demands, standing behind the steel desk.
‘You know the drill now, Bram,’ Krutz, second in command, says, as he approaches me. ‘Take my hand and we won’t have a problem.’
He reaches out to me, spreading his gloved fingers wide. His fingertips glow blue and emit a soft, steam-like haze. A Pacify Glove: designed to induce a peaceful, unconscious state to whoever takes the hand of the wearer. The action of taking someone’s hand symbolizes compliance, surrender, when all options have been exhausted and there’s nowhere left to run.
‘Bram?’ He steps a little closer. Spreading his fingers wider.
Tiny blue dots appear on my chest in my peripheral vision. I sense more than see them. The alternative way to use the Pacify Glove: half a million volts pulse through the subject’s chest and into their heart. Not quite as peaceful as the first option, but far more common.
‘Don’t make me do this, Bram. I like you, man,’ he says, as the squad edge a little closer. They create a semicircle in front of me, blocking my path to the lift. The route to my father’s office sits to my right, a dead end – literally. Behind me, a solid wall, unimaginably thick, acts like the sixth member of Ketch’s team, boxing me in.
I scan my surroundings, searching every surface, every object. I feel adrenalin rip through my veins as my body switches to fight-or-flight mode. Fighting is not an option. Flight?
My back hits the wall as I take the last step away from them.
My heart stops.
Eve of Man: Eve of Man Trilogy Page 19
