Ghost Species

by James Bradley

  ‘We played a game,’ Eve says. Noticing a round band-aid on her arm, a dot of blood dark in its centre, Kate touches it.

  ‘And this? Were you brave?’

  Eve nods gravely, and Kate kisses her. ‘Good.’

  Behind Eve the assistant is waiting. ‘We have lunch for Eve.’

  Kate stands up. ‘Oh. Good.’

  ‘You can catch up if you like,’ the assistant says.

  In the doorway, Mylin is watching her.

  ‘Of course.’

  Kate pushes Eve towards them, forcing herself to smile. Eve resists, clinging to her arm. Her grip is hard enough to hurt.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she says, her voice bright.

  Eve shakes her head and holds on tighter.

  Kate kneels and touches Eve’s cheek. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Still wary, Eve allows herself to be led away by the assistant. As the door closes behind them she turns to find Mylin staring at her with barely disguised dislike.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Kate asks.

  ‘She seems healthy.’

  ‘Were they cognitive tests you were doing?’

  Mylin nods.

  ‘How did she do?’

  ‘We need to do more, but most of her responses seemed within the range we’d expect.’

  ‘I’m relieved but not surprised. Jay said you’d need to speak to me as well?’

  ‘We will.’

  Kate regards Mylin warily. Three years before they had been friends of a sort. ‘Is there anything else?’

  Mylin’s broad face hardens. ‘I just wanted to let you know that while I know they’ve agreed to let her stay with you I’m not happy with that choice. What you did, whatever your reasons, placed Eve in danger.’

  Kate stares at her. ‘You think she would have been better here? As some kind of lab rat?’

  ‘I think your decision to behave the way you did disqualifies you from the right to have a role in her life. If she was anybody else you’d be in jail.’

  Kate is still trembling when she enters the dining room and sits next to Eve. If the assistant guesses what Mylin has said she gives no sign; instead she smiles blandly as Kate grasps Eve’s hand and asks about her food, forcing herself to keep her tone light, untroubled.

  In the late afternoon they are driven to a house midway between the facility and the city. Separated from the road by a long gravel drive, its timber and glass structure lies low to the land, the light from the windows spilling out into the gathering dusk.

  ‘Is this where we’re staying?’ Eve asks as the car crunches to a stop.

  ‘For now,’ Kate says.

  ‘When do we go back to our house?’

  ‘We’re not going to,’ Kate says. ‘We live here now.’

  Kate watches a shadow pass across Eve’s face.

  ‘Is that okay?’

  Eve doesn’t reply.

  ‘Eve?’

  Eve looks away without speaking.

  With the driver’s help Kate gathers their things. A few seconds later Jay’s car swings up the drive. Eve hangs back behind Kate as Jay climbs out.

  ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll show you around.’

  He opens the front door and ushers them in.

  ‘Would you like to see your room?’ he asks Eve once they are inside.

  Taking her hand, he leads her down the corridor that runs along one side of the building. The room is plain, but inviting: a bed with a printed quilt cover, a desk with shelves and a lamp decorated with cut-out bears and foxes, a collection of painted Ice Age animals hanging from a mobile in the window.

  Eve stares at it in amazement. Finally she turns to look at Kate and Jay. Kate realises she is asking permission because she cannot believe it is hers.

  ‘Go on,’ she says. ‘It’s okay.’

  Moving slowly, as if she still cannot quite believe it, Eve goes in, circling the room carefully, touching its contents one by one.

  Jay watches, smiling. Then he looks upward. Kate follows his gaze. A small black hemisphere sits on the ceiling in one corner. A jolt of nausea hits her.

  ‘Is that a camera?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes. It will let us observe Eve in non-clinical conditions.’

  Kate stares at him in astonishment. ‘You have to be joking.’

  Jay keeps his eyes on Eve. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my decision.’

  Kate grabs his arm and pulls him out into the hall. Eve looks back warily, but Kate smiles reassuringly. Looking up, she sees another camera.

  ‘How many more are there?’

  ‘Three. One in the living area, one in the kitchen, one in the garden.’

  ‘So, only five?’ she asks bitterly. ‘And who will have access to the footage? You? Mylin? Davis?’

  ‘There will be strict limitations on access.’

  ‘And that’s supposed to reassure me? Come on. You know this is bullshit. Nothing they’ll get on these cameras will have any research value. Davis and his Silicon Valley cronies might think privacy is a thing of the past, but Eve’s not a lab animal or a prisoner. She has rights.’

  ‘It’s just for the time being. We’ll reassess in a few months.’

  She stares at him. ‘You mean once you’re sure I’m not going to disappear again?’

  Jay turns to look at her, his handsome face tight with anger. ‘Perhaps.’

  Kate shakes her head. ‘Jesus, Jay. What happened to you?’

  He snorts. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’

  Across the next week Kate cannot rid herself of the awareness her every action is being observed and assessed. Occasionally Eve reacts to her mood, but for the most part she seems surprisingly untroubled by the transition to the new house. At the rear of the building the bush crowds close, scribbled gums and fountains of grass giving way to pale-trunked trees, and despite the winter chill Eve roams happily among the boughs, gathering leaves and stones. Twice Eve is conducted back to the facility for more tests, returning cheerful, and one afternoon Jay comes to watch her, standing in the living area or the kitchen and gazing out the windows at her; after their conversation on the night they arrived at the house, Kate can hardly bear to be near him.

  On the third day a truck arrives with their possessions. Arrayed in the house they look mean and cheap; seeing them Kate feels ashamed of them, of her own decisions. But as she tries to arrange them in Eve’s room she finds herself growing angry, irritated by the unthinking superiority of Jay and Mylin and the others, their incomprehension of the contours of other lives. Love does not only happen in nice homes, between nice people, it is not always expressed politely.

  Back in the living area, she takes out the phone Jay left her and messages Yassamin to suggest she and Sami visit. When she tells Yassamin they have moved, Yassamin is surprised.

  WHAT!!??!!

  Explain when see you.

  Kate places the phone down and smiles. Yassamin’s exuberant and informal messages always seem at odds with the dignity of her manner in person. When Sunday comes around Eve is excited about seeing Sami, peppering Kate with questions about when they will be there so often that Kate is relieved when Yassamin’s battered blue car winds its way up the drive.

  Sami has fallen asleep on the drive up. ‘Thank God,’ Yassamin whispers theatrically, as she unbuckles him from his child seat, ‘I thought he’d never stop talking.’

  ‘Hello, Sami,’ Kate says as Yassamin lifts him out of the car and places him on the ground. ‘Eve’s been so excited about having you visit.’

  Sami leans against Yassamin’s leg, ignoring her. His black hair is long, his eyes even darker than his mother’s.

  Kate places a hand on Eve’s back. All morning she has been full of excitement about Sami’s arrival, but now he is here her anticipation has been replaced by a sudden shyness.

  ‘Why don’t you show Sami your new room?’ she prompts.

  Eve shakes her head, refusing to move. Her tiny body tense.

  ‘Sami?’ Yassamin says, remov
ing the boy’s hand from her jumper and pushing him towards Kate and Eve. He takes a step or two forward, then stops. He looks up at Kate, and for a moment she is startled by the odd directness of his gaze, the way he seems quite unafraid of her. Then he steps forward and takes Eve’s hand. To Kate’s relief Eve relaxes, and a second later the two of them dart away towards the house.

  ‘Shall we go inside?’ Kate asks.

  Yassamin nods, but does not move, instead standing, staring, at the house.

  ‘What happened? And how did you end up here?’

  Kate hesitates. ‘It’s a long story.’

  They have only been inside a minute or two before Sami returns. Pulling on Yassamin’s sleeve, he begins pestering her for her phone. Yassamin ignores him, but he does not stop. ‘Maman, please, maman.’

  ‘Perhaps Eve can take you outside, show you the garden,’ Kate says.

  ‘Yes,’ Yassamin says. ‘Go play in the garden.’

  At first Sami resists, but when Yassamin stands and walks out he follows her, still pulling on her arm.

  ‘We can watch them from here,’ Kate says.

  The garden is a carefully defined rectangle of grass dividing the rear of the building from the bush behind. Released from the house, Eve crosses the lawn towards the scrub, glancing back once or twice to watch Sami from beneath her mane of hair. Finally Yassamin pushes him away and tells him to go play with Eve.

  Kate sneaks a glance at Yassamin as Sami wanders across the grass; the other woman looks tense.

  ‘Don’t go where I can’t see you!’ she calls after him, but Sami doesn’t turn around.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ Kate says.

  Yassamin looks around. ‘Yes, of course,’ she says.

  ‘I’ll get us some tea,’ says Kate.

  They sit watching as Eve and Sami pick their way through the undergrowth just beyond the lawn.

  ‘How is he doing in childcare?’ she asks. Yassamin swallows her tea, thinking.

  She shrugs. ‘The same. He never wants to go, and when I arrive to pick him up he doesn’t want to leave.’

  Eve is showing Sami the tree where she saw a possum the day before. Kate knows without hearing her what she is saying.

  ‘That’s good though, isn’t it?’

  Yassamin shrugs. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Have you seen his father since you moved back to the city?’

  Yassamin takes a sip of her tea but does not look around. ‘Once or twice.’

  ‘How was it?’

  She shrugs.

  ‘And Sami?’

  Yassamin shakes her head.

  ‘And Sami?’ Kate persists. ‘Does he ask about him?’

  Yassamin shoots her a wary look. ‘Does Eve?’

  Kate hesitates, then shakes her head. ‘Not really.’

  Yassamin turns away, her expression unreadable. ‘He asks often.’

  ‘And what do you tell him?’

  ‘That he can meet him when he’s older.’

  ‘And can he?’

  Yassamin shrugs. ‘Perhaps.’ For a few seconds she does not speak. ‘And your partner? Have you seen him?’

  Kate pauses. Until now she has always been careful not to tell Yassamin more than she needed to about her relationship with Jay.

  ‘I’ve gone back to work. He’s there. It’s complicated.’

  ‘And this house? Is it part of the job?’

  Kate nods. Yassamin regards her steadily.

  ‘What is it?’ Kate asks.

  Yassamin shakes her head. ‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘I’m tired. Work is difficult. And Sami is exhausting. I’m pleased you are doing so well.’

  Kate hesitates, stung by the edge of judgement she hears in her friend’s voice. ‘Things aren’t always how they seem,’ she says.

  After Yassamin and Sami leave, Eve is mulish, standoffish.

  ‘Did you have fun playing with Sami?’ Kate asks, but Eve ignores her, playing instead with her plastic toy.

  ‘Did you show him the big tree?’

  Eve does not look around. Not for the first time Kate is aware of the force of character in her, her obdurate determination. Perhaps, she thinks, this refusal, this wilful seeking of personal pleasure, is the basis of all human nature.

  Over the next weeks and months Jay and the team run a battery of tests on Eve. Some are physical: scans of her skull and brain, measurements of reaction times and muscle and hormonal levels. Others are cognitive, designed to explore potential differences between her Neanderthal mind and their sapient minds.

  Kate observes these tests with considerable unease. Although Jay and the others are guarded in their opinions around her, she knows that at least some of the team believe the structure of Eve’s brain means she will lack the complex social awareness of a sapient child, and more particularly the ability to imagine her way into the mental states of others. And indeed, as the weeks pass, it becomes clear this is at least partly true. While a sapient child of her age would be likely to understand that the adults around her are capable of being mistaken or holding false beliefs, Eve is troubled by the concept. Faced with a test in which a cartoon character does not know somebody has moved her toys from one basket to the next, Eve often fails to understand why the character does not immediately go to the basket in which the toys now are. And while all of them believe this failure is almost certainly developmental, and she will eventually acquire this understanding, it suggests her acquisition of other, more sophisticated forms of social comprehension may be slower as well.

  Her capacity to manage social relationships is similarly less developed. Tests of her cortisol level and eye movement confirm Kate’s belief that while deeply bonded to those she knows well, she is uncomfortable with strangers, although whether this is because of subtle differences in the size and structure of her frontal lobe or because she has been so isolated is less easy to determine. And although not far outside the normal range for a child her age, her fine-motor control is less precise.

  It is possible this is linked to her language development. As Kate has already guessed, Eve’s expressive language is slower and less developed than might otherwise be expected. In part this seems to be a function of the physical structure of her throat and mouth, which make the production of certain sounds difficult. But it also seems to be connected to the way she processes and organises language: although her comprehension is good, she seems to rely on a series of non-verbal cues involving scent and touch, and to be less focused on verbal communication than a sapient child.

  These deficits are offset by other abilities: her general intelligence and problem-solving skills are all at the high end of the range for a child her age, confirming Kate’s sense of the speed of her mind. Likewise her eyesight and visual memory are both remarkable: in set tasks where she is given thirty seconds to look at a grid of objects and remember them and their order, her performance is off the chart. Similarly, as her powerful musculature suggests, her physical coordination and strength are considerably more developed than those of a sapient child of the same age. And although it is difficult to quantify, she is less volatile than sapient children, better able to focus for long periods of time.

  Kate is not sure how to feel about these discoveries. At first she is unbelieving, even though they mirror some of her own suspicions, and in those meetings she is invited to attend she finds herself disputing the methodology and findings, even beyond the point where she herself knows the data is sound. After that she feels grief, not just for Eve, but for herself. It is unbearable to think of her so vulnerable, or of her being unable to participate in the way other children might. But in time this passes, and she realises Eve is not a condition but herself.

  Meanwhile Jay and the rest of the team set about devising a program to help Eve extend her abilities in those areas where she has deficits. At Kate’s insistence they also formulate a plan to allow her to develop herself in those areas in which she exceeds the normal sapient range. ‘Why should we limit her education with sapient st
andards of normality?’ Kate argues. ‘By that reasoning we should be being trained to improve our visual memory until it equals Eve’s.’

  Although this process is complicated by Mylin’s overt antipathy towards her, Kate finds she enjoys these sessions with the team, and the chance to contribute to their work. And so, at the end of their fourth month she catches Jay alone, suggests to him there might be a more formal role she could play.

  ‘I can contribute,’ she says. ‘You know that.’

  Jay regards her carefully. ‘Davis would need to agree,’ he says. ‘And we’d need to do it in a way that isn’t disruptive for Eve.’

  The next Monday Kate arrives at the lab to find Davis seated opposite Eve at the low table they use for her tests and lessons. At the sound of the door Eve looks around and hurtles towards her, flinging herself into Kate’s arms. Kate lifts her up, embracing her, and looks at Davis, who has stood up.

  ‘I didn’t know you were here,’ she says.

  ‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.’ He takes a few steps towards them and Kate has to resist the urge to back away.

  ‘She’s getting tall,’ he says.

  ‘Yes. Although you’d know that from the videos.’ Kate says, immediately regretting the sharpness of her tone. But if Davis notices he gives no indication. ‘Where is everybody?’ she asks, looking around.

  ‘Team meeting.’

  Kate feels a prickle of apprehension. Davis looks at Eve in Kate’s arms. ‘You’ve bonded with her. As I knew you would.’

  Kate hesitates. ‘I’m sorry?’

  He regards her, his bland face seemingly emotionless. ‘We did a psychological assessment before we approached you and Jay. It indicated your emotional state was such that you were highly likely to form close attachments with any children produced by the project.’

  ‘You mean you hired me because you thought I was . . . what? Vulnerable? A potential mother?’ She speaks carefully, aware Eve is in her arms, listening.

  Davis smiles. ‘Of course not. But your psychological state certainly played a part in our choice of you and Jay to head up the project.’

  Kate stares back at him, wondering why he has decided to tell her this. Is it ego? An expression of his messianic belief in his own genius? Or is it a way to remind her of his power over her? ‘You know I’ve asked to rejoin the program?’