by Jem Tugwell
At 10am, the green light over the door labelled Exam Room 5 blinked and Clive stood and hesitated. Did he really want confirmation of what he already knew? His Buddy flashed him a new banner ‘Don’t waste precious resources. Being late for your appointment by more than 5 minutes will result in a £500 fine for each ten-minute period.’
It was enough for Clive, he stepped forward and opened the door to the room.
The consultant sat behind a metal topped desk by the window, and the angle of the sun lit up her long dark hair and one side of her face. The swirls caused by the cleaners in the metal desktop glinted. Clive’s gaze settled on her white doctor’s coat and the angular NM badge on her lapel.
She stood and waved Clive in and pointed at a chair opposite the display wall of the room.
‘Mr Lussac, hello. I’m Dilani Adhya,’ she said as she crossed to Clive and shook his hand before walking to the display wall and touching a button on the side. ‘We have a problem.’
Clive said nothing. He knew he had a problem.
The display wall redrew with his health summary. Now he could see his problem. The flashing warning said it all. ‘High blood sugar level.’
‘What I can’t see, is an obvious cause,’ Dilani said. ‘Despite the records of your consumption being pure green, your blood sugar seems to have risen over the last year, along with your weight. Has anything changed?’
Clive shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Not really,’ he muttered, thinking of how often he used the Health Bank bracelet he had ‘borrowed’ from the PCU evidence store and how it masked his consumption. It couldn’t mask the side effects.
‘That’s strange. You used to be given Excess Consumption Orders, but there’s been none in the last year. That’s very good, so something else must be going on.’ She looked at Clive, her eyes alive with questions.
Clive shook his head and dropped his gaze.
‘Your fasting blood sugar level has been over the diabetes threshold several times recently.’ Dilani paused and her fingers danced in front of her face as she typed on her HUD.
The display wall redrew, showing a pre-iMe era hospital letter confirming Clive’s Type 2 diabetes diagnosis. He groaned. Dilani then swiped the wall and he saw a second letter. This one was dated a year after the introduction of iMe. Dilani used her finger to highlight a sentence on the second letter ‘Your type 2 diabetes appears to be in remission.’
‘That’s no longer true,’ she said. ‘As your insulin levels seem normal, we need to work out what is causing your high sugar levels.’
Clive nodded. He was back where he started through his own weakness.
‘I’ll schedule some other appointments, but we have rules…’ she said and paused, dropping her gaze to the desk. ‘I don’t want to do this, but as there’s no obvious medical cause for the change, and with your history of excess consumption, the Ministry of Well-being and Health will need to be informed.’
Shit, thought Clive. That meant meeting Winter, the FU Enforcement Officer again. It wasn’t going to go well.
***
Back in the sunshine of the hospital car park, Clive groaned again and slapped his palm against his head. ‘Idiot!’ he screamed at himself. The bracelets were a gift, well, a stolen gift, Clive admitted to himself, and he had taken them for granted. It wasn’t only the diabetes. Well-being and Health would be all over his Freedom Units allowance. They’d find out about the chocolate. He’d owe so much in FU tax.
His car pulled silently into the car park and stopped beside Clive. The door opened and he got in. The PCU office was already programmed as the destination, and the car started off.
Clive couldn’t put it off, he’d stolen a bracelet for Sophia as well, not that she used it now she had the Church of the New Modelists. He touched his jaw to make a call. ‘Hi, Sophia, how are you?’
‘How did it go?’ Sophia asked. Clive could hear the concern in her voice.
‘OK.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Sorry.’
Clive couldn’t find the words to tell Sophia that her bracelet would put her in the shit as well.
Chapter 12
Tatsuko guessed she had been in the van twenty minutes. All her possessions had been taken and locked in her room in the barn – the one with the big number five on it.
She braced her body and held on as the van took another corner. The Ten were all in there, perched on two box seats that ran the length of the van’s sides. They had no padding or cushions, just a flat metal top that was both uncomfortable and slippery. No seat belts. They slid and returned with each movement of the van, like waves lapping at a beach.
The Ten hadn’t talked amongst themselves. Instead, there were glances: assessing, competitive, uncertain, some hostile.
We’re all here to win, but it doesn’t need to be like this, Tatsuko thought. She was going to break the ice.
But she could hear her mother. They’re not your friends, stupid girl, they’re the enemy. Whatever she did was never good enough. She wasn’t good enough. She had tried everything to win approval from her mother. Even after her mother had died, she couldn’t shake her mother’s voice from her head. It still drove her.
‘Hi,’ she said to the middle of the van. They all looked at her but said nothing. She saw a couple of the gazes were interested. ‘I’m Tatsuko,’ she said. ‘I’m ReflectiveAndRightous on the forum.’
‘Don’t care, Yankee,’ a man by the door said. From his accent, olive skin and dark hair, Tatsuko guessed he was Italian. ‘I’m Sully, but you’ll never catch up with me to use it.’ He glared at her, like he was trying to bully and intimidate her. He had the look of a spoilt brat.
‘Lilou,’ someone said.
Tatsuko blanked Sully and spun to a friendly French voice.
The woman opposite Tatsuko flashed a smile. ‘Parkour179 on the forum.’
Any opportunity for conversation ended as the van braked hard. Everyone grabbed what they could to stop themselves flying forwards, then the van crunched into reverse, and they all lurched back. The van stopped and the doors opened.
***
The van was parked a little way off the road, up a rough, small track cut into some trees. Its back doors were open, and Serge sat on the floor, using the open doors to shelter his cigarette from the wind. The Ten stood waiting, apprehension on their faces. Not a group. Definitely not a team. Ten silos.
Tatsuko waited, focused, watching Serge, but Sully shoved her, sending her off-balance and her left foot splashed into a deep puddle. He smiled.
Before she could retaliate, Serge coughed and said, ‘This is the first task. In Forbidden Island, you will need to travel a long way without being caught. No phone, money, no devices. Just you. Now we have a practice. Come and get your bag.’ Serge beckoned them forward.
Tatsuko could see the bags behind Serge, each with a number on the front. She stepped forward and was given one with the number five on it.
‘You have a map and a compass. A torch and a little food. Please get the map out,’ Serge said.
Tatsuko pulled her map out and swung the bag over her shoulder. The wind caught the map and it flapped, like a bird trying to escape. She grasped the map and sheltered it with her body.
‘We are on the D61, near Forges-les-Eaux,’ Serge said. ‘It’s marked.’
Tatsuko and the others all checked the maps to find the start point.
‘You have to get to Parkeerplaatst aan de haven in Plage de Saint-Valery-en-Caux. It’s about eighty kilometres.’ He looked at his watch. ‘About 16:30 now, you get there by 08:30 if you walk.’
Tatsuko was already using her finger to trace a rough route.
‘This test is not only about speed.’ Serge paused so that they all looked up. ‘We will have cars out looking for you, we don’t want to see you.’
Serge stood and dropped his cigarette. ‘You start when the van goes.’ He walked around the van and climbed in. ‘Only seven make it through the test,’ he
called as the van drove away.
Tatsuko walked off the track and onto the road. There was a small junction a few metres away. She jogged to it. Three signs. The left pointed along a narrow, tree-lined road and said ‘D61 – La Ferte’. Right said, ‘D61 – La Balliere’, and pointed along an identical tree-lined road. The sign ahead said ‘D9 – Le Fosse’. She looked at the map again. Time for planning, not running, she thought. After a few seconds, she had decided, and followed the backs of the other competitors running along the D9, but she didn’t follow them for long. Instead, she cut left, jumped over the green and white pole that acted as a gate to another track, crunched along it for a few metres and headed into the trees.
***
Tatsuko stopped for a sip of water, leaning against the sign marking the exit of Bacqueville en Caux. The town’s church clock had called three in the morning as she skirted the buildings, with their sleeping people and their barking dogs, and trudged across the fields.
Why are you wasting time, lazy girl, her mother’s voice said.
Tatsuko flicked her torch on, sheltering the light with her hand, and played the light across the map. Time for speed, she thought. The roads would be quicker, and she would see the lights of an approaching car miles off. She started jogging along the D152 road.
***
Tatsuko stopped again. It felt like her left big toe was beginning to blister, maybe because that pig Sully had pushed her into the puddle and the water had softened her skin. She hadn’t seen any of the other Ten since the beginning. She walked on, wincing at each step as her foot started to ache.
She clenched her jaw. ‘No surrender,’ she said to the fields.
***
Tatsuko turned and saw car lights in the distance. The landscape around her was all open green fields. Nowhere to hide. She jogged on and as she came around the corner, she saw a clump of trees ahead.
The car was louder. Closer.
She ran, arms and legs pumping. Reaching the trees, she glanced behind her, the car’s lights were turning the corner. She jumped into the trees, and lay, panting.
The lights and the noise of the car flashed by. As she looked up through the trees, glimpsing the night sky, she thought of her mother, searching for a gentle, warming memory but her mother’s mantra echoed in Tatsuko’s ears. You won’t get anywhere in life laying around, lazy girl.
She took another breath, jumped up and started running along the road again.
***
Tatsuko’s stomach tightened and her legs felt heavy with dread as she jogged along the promenade at Plage de Saint-Valery-en-Caux. She could see the waiting van. And the people around it. She counted them.
Too many people.
Seven of The Ten were already there. She was eighth and only seven go through.
The brisk sea air ruffled their hair, and she could taste the salt in the air. The bitter taste of failure.
Sully leered at her. ‘Thanks for playing, Yankee. You’re a bit late.’ He raised one finger in the air. ‘Guess who was first?’
***
Now, back in the barn, The Ten were in a line again, their backs to their numbered doors, waiting for Serge to speak.
Tatsuko shuffled and waited for the verdict. She expected to leave and heard another useless girl taunt from the voice of her mother replaying in her head.
‘As I said. Only seven go to the next test.’ Serge shrugged out a fake apology. ‘The first two people leaving us are…’ He paused for dramatic effect, playing it like the elimination on a TV cookery show. ‘Four… and One.’
The woman to Tatsuko’s left groaned and turned, joined by the man at the end. Both headed to their now open numbered doors in the back wall of the barn.
‘The final person leaving us is either Five.’ Serge looked straight at Tatsuko. She felt her legs give, but Serge continued, ‘Or… Nine.’
Tatsuko held her breath. Please don’t let this be over before it’s begun.
‘Five you were slower than Nine, but we never saw you… Nine you were quicker, but you blunder around like a drunk bear. So, the third person leaving is…’ Another long pause. ‘Nine.’
Tatsuko let out a long gasp.
‘You were lucky, Yankee,’ Sully said.
‘Shit, man,’ Nine groaned as two of Serge’s assistants stepped forward. As they escorted him to the door, Tatsuko twisted and watched him go. His shoulders sagged in defeat and shame at being sent home so early. Her mother’s whispered sneer bounced around her head, You bring dishonour on me, lazy girl. You’re too slow.
I’ll win, mother.
‘Next test tomorrow. Eat and rest.’ Serge turned and left.
***
Serge sat at his desk, the smoke from the cigarette balanced on the edge of the ashtray curling lazily upwards.
He tapped on the keyboard as he typed out the tweet.
‘Hi to all you film fans, quick poll. Which film do you prefer? “Se7en” or “The Magnificent Seven”? Both classics – you decide.’
He pressed send.
Chapter 13
As Clive arrived in the PCU office, Ava flashed him a bright, white smile. She looked annoyingly healthy and youthful. Her vibrant yellow shirt seemed to have brought the sunshine inside with her. He felt as grey as the hospital corridors he had left behind.
‘Morning,’ Clive said, dropping into a chair.
‘Wow, Boss. You look awful,’ Ava replied.
‘Can’t seem to sleep.’ Clive rubbed his hand back and forward, pulling at his face, but couldn’t wipe away the feeling of exhaustion. ‘Anything happening?’
‘We’ve got an Unchip. How can the parents be so selfish?’ Ava threw her HUD at the display wall so Clive could read the details.
The Sacred Chant School had reported the parents of one of their pupils for failing to present their daughter for iMe insertion. The fourteen-year-old was still using her iMe Lite Child Tracker bracelet.
‘What’s their defence?’ Clive asked.
‘Parental concern over the kid being vulnerable to cyber-bullying and them wanting to control video stream access.’
Clive’s eyes drifted to the far wall. He had stopped listening and replayed the hospital appointment. Why do I always make things worse for myself?
‘Boss? You OK?’
‘Fine.’ Clive tried for a smile, but it only got to about a tenth of the intensity of one of Ava’s. ‘The parents must know they can’t win.’ He pushed back his chair and stood. ‘Let’s go and sort it out.’
As he took a step, his head emptied of blood and he stumbled. He dropped his hands onto his knees to ride out the wave of dizziness.
‘Sure you’re OK, Boss?’
Clive waited for a second and then stood up. ‘Got up too quickly.’
He headed for the door, muttering and grumbling, as Ava swiped and clicked to book a car.
Chasing the parents of some Unchip kid should be a job for Uniform, not a DI, he thought, but at least doing this would keep him occupied instead of staring at an empty work queue all day worrying about his health.
***
‘Summer was fourteen yesterday and you called the cops today. Shame on you.’ The woman emphasised her point with a jabbing finger pointed straight at the teacher.
Clive could see her details on his HUD. She was thirty-four, named Dani, mother of Summer and the head of a large department in a media firm. Her lawyer husband nodded along behind her, happy to let Dani do all the confrontation.
Summer stepped backwards towards the classroom wall, clutching her Mobi. It was the child’s mobile version of an adult HUD, and when paired to her iMe Lite Child Tracker, it provided Summer with the gateway to her electronic world.
‘It’s the law and my duty,’ the teacher replied, her chin high and proud. She wore a grey suit and white shirt, but it was the bright-green lapel badge with the angular NM letters she touched as she spoke. Certainty radiated from her.
‘Legally, we have five days after her birthday, so we�
�ve done nothing–’ the father said.
‘No, you don’t.’ The tips of Ava’s bob waved in time with her head shake. ‘You’re required to have booked the insertion before her fourteenth birthday. Which you didn’t. The five-day allowance is for the actual insertion appointment.’ She sat back and crossed her arms.
Clive thought that Summer’s parents stopping her becoming an adult had got to Ava and she had opened up and cut the father in two. Clive couldn’t help but smile at her growing assertiveness.
Dani’s withering glare turned on him.
‘Well…’ the father flustered.
‘Without her full iMe, Summer isn’t an adult,’ the teacher said. ‘She’ll have no vote, no tax record, no young-adult benefit payments, no access to the legal stimulants and drugs.’
‘And that’s a good thing,’ Dani said.
‘You know she can’t abuse them. We encourage all our students to stay green.’ The teacher touched her badge again.
Clive thought back to his own childhood, long before iMe, getting served beer underage, drinking too much and pebble-dashing the floor or pavement with his vomit. In those days, the beer stayed inside him for such a short period – piss or puke, he only seemed to rent alcohol by the hour.
‘I thought you all wore green,’ Clive said to the teacher.
She nodded. ‘Usually, but religious clothing is banned inside the school in case it offends anyone. One item of symbolic jewellery is permitted.’ She touched her lapel badge, as if drawing strength from it. It seemed to empower her.
‘Pure green?’ Clive asked and the teacher nodded. It explained her calling the police. The Church of the New Modelists was clear on the subject: Conformity is Contentment, Conformity is Peace. You can only conform to the Model Citizen directive if you have iMe – not the Child Tracker.
