by Kim Curran
In the early days, I remember Zizi and him arguing about the level of filtering. Zizi used to worry about the effect that would have on people’s empathy—if people were never exposed to the same information as their neighbour, how could they ever hope to really understand each other? But Max wasn’t worried. Now I know now why.
It would have been subtle at first. Maybe a boost in ‘happy chemicals’ when people did the right thing. Like standing up for an old man on the bus. Or spending time with the people some algorithm he designed decided they should spend time with. Pretty soon, they’d only bother spending time with those people who made them feel good. I remember how Kiara and Pippa drifted apart. How everyone changed towards Ryan after his ban: Dave Carlton turning on him; Amy dumping him. That all went away when he was back on.
What better way to stop conflict than by ensuring no one with opposing views ever met? As for the people who didn’t fit into his idea of what made a perfect family member, he was happy to exclude them. A whole class of people living on the fringes of society, never able to take part. Social engineering at the highest level.
Maybe that’s how it started out. I have to believe—I want to believe—that he began with the intentions of making people happy. That he hadn’t been lying when he’d said that. He was giving people what they wanted. Building a family. And anyone who wasn’t good enough to belong, he’d leave them outside, living in the shadows.
But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted total control. And now, he has it.
After twenty, maybe 30 minutes, the last video stops playing.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Leon says, stepping away from the screen, his hand over his mouth.
Ethan turns away too. ‘After what they did to us at T-Raz?’
‘Why did no one notice the third strand?’ Corina says, turning off the screen.
‘Because the only people responsible for fitting them are WhiteInc company staff,’ I say. ‘And once company, always company.’
‘Why didn’t Dr Hwang realise?’ Ethan asks.
‘Maybe he knew but didn’t care.’
‘Another doctor then? Any doctor? They can’t all be owned by Max?’ Corina shouts, throwing something at the wall. It leaves a hole in the white plaster.
I sit on the sofa next to Zizi. ‘It wouldn’t show up on an X-ray. The chip is ceramic and the tendrils can only be seen under a microscope. Do you remember that Middle Eastern country that made all that fuss about people not being allowed in if they were chipped?’
‘Because they’d banned all social networks?’ Leon says.
‘Yeah. Max laughed and said they were undetectable so unless the government was going to go around prising people’s brains open good luck to them.’
‘Isn’t that exactly what the government did?’ Corina says. ‘Went around cutting people’s brains open?’
‘Until the UN stepped in,’ I say, remembering the news reports.
‘They should step in here,’ Shank says. ‘This is a violation of our fricking human rights.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah, like that’s going to happen. The Secretary General is chipped too. Max had dinner with him last month.’
‘So what do we do?’ Ethan says, coming to sit on the armrest next to me.
‘I guess people need to know,’ I say.
‘You guess? Billions of people have been turned into gimps and you guess they need to know?’ Corina says, sneering.
‘You’re not helping, ‘Rina,’ Leon says.
‘Can we send this info out network-wide? Like Logan did with his video nasty?’ I ask.
Corina huffs and unfolds her arms. ‘The only reason that spread so far is Logan piggybacked the test signal White was sending out. To get our message that deep, actually buried in the brain, we’d have to send the message from WhiteInc HQ itself. Or get White to send it.’
‘And even if you do, Max will deny it. Or push a few buttons and no one would care about it anymore. He controls them, remember?’ Leon says.
‘But it’s the truth!’ I say.
‘Don’t think truth has much currency these days.’ Corina looks down at her nails.
‘Yeah, White gets to say what is and isn’t true. And after Wednesday, no one’s going to be able to stop him,’ Shank says, punching his fist into his open hand.
‘Why? What happens Wednesday?’ Leon says.
‘Boy, you really have been in isolation. It’s the election.’
‘What? It’s not till May,’ I say. It’s not only Leon who’s been isolated from the world.
‘They brought it forward. And White is backing one of the runners,’ Ethan says.
‘And if you have White on your side—’
I look at Corina. ‘Everyone with a chip will vote the way he wants.’
The magnitude of it lands in the room like an anvil.
He’s turned everyone into his puppets and they’ve thanked him for it. And I’d been top of the queue begging to have his hand shoved up my backside.
‘How do we stop it?’ Ethan says.
‘We know we can fry the chips,’ Corina says, pulling out her taser. ‘Like I fried yours.’
‘One person at a time? It will take too long. To stand a chance against the hundreds of people who’ve already had the upgrade … ’
‘We’ll need an army,’ I say.
‘An army that is willing to fight against White.’
The silence weighs so heavy I can hear my heart beat. ‘I know where we can find one.’
33
‘YOU WANT TO BREAK IN to a young offender’s institute?’ Corina says, staring at me. ‘White’s pet project? Are you insane?’
‘Max isn’t involved anymore, is he?’ I say, turning to Ethan.
‘After he extracted the data he needed from us,’ Ethan says, the bitterness etched in his voice, ‘he wasn’t interested any more’.
‘But there are still kids there?’
‘Kids without chips,’ Corina says, catching on.
‘About five, maybe six hundred,’ Leon says.
‘Six hundred kids, not a single one chipped. Many of them who have a very personal reason to see Maxwell White go down. All of them who have very little respect for the authorities.’
‘It’s something,’ Ethan says. He turns to Leon. ‘Is Charlie still booked?’
‘Yeah. And he’s moving up to the big league next month.’
‘And Flick?’
‘Still there. Still crazy.’
‘What about Little George?’
Leon’s smile slides. ‘He ended it last year.’
Ethan closes his eyes, blocking out whatever new pain Leon has laid on him. ‘That might be enough, organised strikes across the capital. Spreading to the other cities.’
‘It will take more than some kids,’ Corina says.
‘Haven’t you sensed the tension? The pressure between them and us, as WhiteInc push us to the edges?’ I say, wondering when I became ‘us’ and the rest of my life became them. ‘Locking us behind fences and pretending we don’t exist.’
‘It’s like a powder keg,’ Leon says.
‘Exactly. And all we need is a spark.’
‘So how are we going to get them out?’ Ethan says.
‘I might be able to help,’ Leon says.
‘No way, Leon. You only just got out,’ Corina says.
‘Oh, I won’t be doing any of the actual breaking. I’m not leaving my tower for no one.’ He holds up his hands, indicating the flat and, by extension, the buildings all around it. ‘But I can tell you the wherefores and hows so you can get in.’
I nod. ‘That will have to do.’
A day later, we’re standing at the gates to Tabula Rasa. The bright yellow brick wall stretches 30 feet up, topped in razor wire and cameras. For a modern approach to rehabilitation, as the articles said, they certainly have a very old-fashioned approach to security.
A drone buzzes overhead and I tug at the niqab covering my face. The scarf was Corina’s suggesti
on.
‘My Jaddah was always trying to get me to wear one of these,’ she had said, tucking my hair under the scarf. ‘I doubt she’d approve much of this though.’
It was such a simple solution, as I could hardly walk into a prison with a stealthscarf on. No wonder one of the policies of Max’s pet politician was to have the hijab banned outside the house and mosque.
‘Are you ready?’ Ethan says.
We’re standing in a queue of people waiting for visiting hour. Mothers trying to hide their shame. Girlfriends trying to hide their excitement.
‘No,’ I say, squinting through the gap in the scarf.
A loud buzzing sounds and the queue moves forward. Through the gate, I see a round, white building sits in the middle of a grey yard. There’s one heavily guarded door and not a single window.
What was I thinking? The chances of us making it out of this place, let alone getting six hundred boys out too, are almost nil.
I stop in my tracks, fear freezing me in place. The woman behind bangs into me. ‘First time?’ she says, in a tone kinder than her face.
I nod.
‘Boyfriend?’ she says, peering at my eyes through my disguise.
‘Friend,’ I say as quietly as I can.
She sniffs. ‘Well, don’t expect them to be happy to see you.’ She strides past me. ‘They never are.’
‘It will all be OK,’ Ethan says into my cloth-covered ear. He reaches up and tucks a lock of my hair back under, then places a hand on the base of my spine and gently moves me forward.
We’re scanned and our bags searched as we pass through the door. The guard pulls out two tangled tampons then drops them like his fingers are on fire. I smile beneath my veil at the blush in his cheeks.
I gather my stuff and walk towards the door. The second guard pushes it open, but doesn’t step out of the way, so I have to squeeze past his large gut to get through. The visiting room is surprisingly bright and cheery. There are no booths with glass separating the inmates from their guests as I had imagined. Only tables with a few chairs scattered around. It could be a classroom.
We’re directed to a table in the corner and sit down. Slowly, the other seats fill up with visitors. They all sit, hands in laps or fiddling with jewellery, watching the double doors through which, I assume, the boys will arrive, or gazing at the clock that’s ticking away on the wall.
A second loud buzz, followed by a clunk, the double doors open and the boys traipse in.
One boy with blonde hair shaved close enough to reveal a tattoo inked on to his skull sees Ethan and smiles. He walks over and takes his seat like he’s walking into a restaurant where the best seat is always reserved for him.
‘Fisher,’ he says, lifting his chin in a casual greeting. ‘Who’s the ghost girl?’
‘This is Petri and you might want to show a bit more respect, Charlie. We’re here because of her.’
His arrogant expression softens and he leans forward in his chair, eyes darting across my veiled face, trying to find a way in.
‘Nice to meet you, Petri.’ He reaches out a hand. I go to shake but I’m interrupted by a loud thump.
‘No touching,’ the fat guard shouts, banging his baton against the wall.
Charlie leans back, stretching out in his chair, and throws his arm over the back of the seat. ‘Have to say I was surprised to get your message, Fisher. We all were. Damn near freaked us out. Been years since we heard anything delivered… like that. We thought White was back.’
‘I’m sorry. It was the only way we could think to communicate with you,’ Ethan says.
‘How did you do it?’
‘Our friend tracked the receiving frequency.’
‘I kinda missed it, you know?’ Charlie says.
‘I know,’ Ethan says.
‘Was that your voice broadcast?’ he says looking at me again, his head tilted.
‘No. It was our hacker friend, Corina.’
‘Shame. So is this Corina as hot as she sounds? Cos if so, you’d totally better hook me up. It’s been way too long since I got me some—’
‘Can we focus, please?’ I say.
Charlie bursts out laughing at my discomfort. ‘All right. So, are we going to do this?’ he says, clapping his hands together.
‘Is everyone in?’
‘There’s only about three hundred of the original programme still here. But the rest will have got your message wherever they are.’
Charlie scratches behind his ear at the implant. Just like I’ve seen Ethan do over and over since we tested whether his implant still worked. The look of bliss on his face when we sent the test message was almost as bad as the anger that replaced it.
‘The rest of the kids here are new, although everyone here is fitted with blanks. So you won’t find any White fans. We’ve spread the word. They know what to do. They’re itching to do it, in fact. As for me, the only thing that’s kept me going in this shithole is the thought of payback. So you come through, then you got yourself a fracas on order.’
The clock in the room clunks from 11:55 to 11:56. I stare at it, wondering why it’s so old-fashioned. Then I remember that this place is completely isolated from the digital world.
In four minutes, that won’t be the case. Four minutes. Two hundred and forty seconds.
There are two guards in here. Another two outside. According to Leon, there will be at least another five in the main wing, but he said they mostly stay in their lounge unless trouble starts. A lounge with a computerised lock that could be accessed from the outside.
Corina had laughed when she hacked the systems. ‘I should have thought of this before.’
11.57.
I reach into my bag for Corina’s gift. That girl really was a genius. My hands wrap around the soft, pink plastic and, weirdly, it gives me a feeling of strength.
11.58.
I stand up and walk over to the fat guard. ‘I need the bathroom.’
He turns to point me to the exit and I strike, pushing the ends of the wired tampons deep into the folds of flesh at the back of his neck.
A pink stinger, Corina had called it. ‘Just don’t mix it up with the real thing, hey?’
The guard shakes and collapses to the floor. Fifty thousand volts of electricity flowing through his system.
The other guard looks over, his sagging jaw hanging open, unable to believe what he’s seeing: a girl in a hijab knocking out his colleague with a couple of tampons.
Before the guard can react, the clock flips to 12:00 and half the boys in the room flinch at the voice I know is now playing in their heads. I can’t hear it but I know what the message is.
‘Now.’
Ethan and Charlie get to their feet, their heads tilted to the side as if waiting for, wanting, the next message. And I’m jealous. Like I was of Glaze. That they can share something I’ll never be a part of. Even now, even when I know what the consequences are, I still want to belong.
Ethan blinks and focuses on what’s happening around him. Three of the boys tackle the remaining guard with a little more enthusiasm than is probably needed. At the same time, the doors between this room and the guards outside clunk shut. The two guards outside bang on the doors to be let in. Corina was right, this is all too easy.
One guard is tied up with his own belt and tie, while the unconscious guard is dragged into a corner. A boy pulls his foot back ready to kick him.
‘No!’ I shout. ‘There’s no need to hurt him.’
The boy gives me a look of utter derision then lets his boot fly. ‘How’d you like this payback, bitch?’ he shouts into the guard’s face.
I look to Ethan, hoping he might be able to bring order to this chaos. But he ignores the guard, who’s now getting a serious kicking, and walks over to me. ‘Let’s get this done.’
The guard’s face is covered in blood. I’ve got a tiger by the tail and already it’s started to scratch.
We run to the doors to the main wing and they slide open at our approa
ch. Clockwork precision. There’s already cheering and shouting coming from the inmates.
The main wing is surprisingly beautiful. A spiral of sweeping floors running from the ground, up five levels to the top like a nautilus shell. I can imagine Max standing where I am right now looking down on his creation.
Boys pour out of their cells, down the sloping floors and gather in the round pit at the bottom. They’ve started to smash and burn everything they can get their hands on, months of pent-up aggression exploding in an instant.
I pull off the veil and take what feels like my first breath. ‘Stop!’ I scream, my voice echoing around the curved walls. Amazingly, they do.
‘You know why we’re here. You got the message.’ It’s not a question but some of the boys shout their answers up anyway.
‘Well, this is your time. Your chance to prove you don’t deserve to be here. That you shouldn’t be locked up like the animals they think you are.’ I point at the door behind me. ‘Like the animals Maxwell White thought you were. Because that’s all you were to him. Lab rats. To be poked and prodded. To see what you would do. It’s what the whole world is to him.’
They stir and scowl. But they’re still listening.
‘So, what are you going to do? Are you going to act like he would expect? Fight among yourselves, burn his cage to the ground? Or are you going to come with us now and take the fight to him?’
I’ve got them now. I know they’re united in their hatred of the man who put them here.
‘I can’t ask you to do this peacefully. I haven’t been through what you’ve been through. All I ask is you don’t forget who your true enemy is. Not the guards. Not your inmates. But him. And don’t forget who you are. He might treat you like animals, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like animals.’
In the following silence I hear the echo of my last word and the crackling of flames.
Then the roar goes up. It starts with a few of the boys I think must be part of the original programme, such is the hunger for revenge. Then it spreads to the rest. I know they’re just along for the ride. But that doesn’t matter now. My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Max taught me that. He taught me everything I know. Everything I need to bring him down.
