Maladapted

by Richard Kurti

  The passion in his voice filled Tess with dread. “What about P8?” she asked, trying to keep Blackwood on track. “The markers still can’t get through their firewalls.”

  “Right now, I don’t care.” He turned to Tess and cradled her face gently in his hands. “You’ve given me Generation Zero. All of them. Every last one.”

  “I thought the whole point was to get inside P8.”

  Blackwood pointed to a sub-menu where the program was compiling a list of identifiers in alphanumeric code. “Each one of these is a person who has no idea what they really are. Who thinks they just don’t quite fit in, or have some strange obsession. Now we can root out this evil.” His eyes were bright with anticipation. “You’ve given us the Kill List. Mutations like this can’t be allowed to exist. Who knows what they might be capable of doing?”

  Tess said nothing; she turned to the WallScreen and gazed at the numbers, wondering which one was Cillian.

  “You should be happy.”

  “I am.” But her eyes weren’t smiling.

  “There can be no exceptions, Tess. We must destroy them all before they infiltrate, breed and corrupt the wider population.”

  “He’s still useful—”

  “He’s served his purpose. We’ve got more from Cillian than we could have imagined—”

  “But there’s much more he could do for us—”

  “And now you have to kill him.”

  His words punched the breath out of Tess. The heavy silence between them lingered as she desperately tried to think of a way to change Blackwood’s mind.

  “He’s innocent,” she said finally.

  “None of them are innocent.”

  “He hasn’t done anything.”

  “It’s not what he’s done. It’s what he is. They’ve been created for vanity and profit, and they will destroy everything it means to be human. Which is why they must be uncreated.”

  “There must be another way,” Tess pleaded. “What about the media? Now we’ve got proof, we can expose everything—”

  “It won’t work.” Blackwood was adamant. “Everyone wants to be smarter, stronger, more immune, more beautiful. If we expose P8, we’ll just be telling the whole world what they’ve achieved, and any chance of stopping them will be lost.”

  “Decent people won’t tolerate their cruelty.”

  “You really think ‘decent people’ care when it comes to their child’s cancer? Or not ageing for another 30 years? Or being able to out-think their rivals? Foundation is a city of the wealthy. They’ll be queuing up to buy genetic cures and enhancements. Once people take control of their own genome and bend it to their will, society will split from top to bottom. The rich will take everything; they’ll get stronger and healthier. The poor will be left with nothing but disease and death. How can that be right?”

  “How can murdering Cillian be right?”

  “It’s not murder to kill what should never have been born. Remember, the Creator made all humans equal.” Blackwood pointed to the Kill List. “Destroying these is the only way to honour that.”

  “I don’t want Cillian to die. Please. That’s all I know.”

  “You don’t want—” There was disbelief in Blackwood’s voice. “You. All these years I’ve nurtured you, and you’d turn against me?”

  “It’s not like that—”

  “I saved you, Tess. I plucked you from a life of hopeless rejection. And this is how you repay me? By betraying me … for a monster?”

  Tess looked into his unyielding eyes and finally started to understand.

  “You knew, didn’t you?” she whispered. “You knew what the bomb was going to do. But you wanted bloodshed and carnage—”

  “How can you even think that?”

  “You wanted it!”

  “All I’ve ever asked is that you do the right thing. And I’m telling you now, unless we act, the Fall of Man will happen in our lifetimes. But if you’re not strong enough –” he looked at her with a dark sense of disappointment – “then there’s no place for you here.”

  Tess was stunned. “You’d really turn your back on me?”

  “It’s the other way around. But be careful what you decide. I don’t know how long you think you could last out there without Revelation to protect you. Without me.”

  There was nothing Tess could say, no argument left that could save both her and Cillian.

  One of them was finished.

  53

  The stone floor was cold and hard on her knees, but Tess didn’t care. She deserved to feel pain.

  Just a week ago she’d been in this very church on a mission to single out Cillian. Then the lines of right and wrong had been so clearly drawn, then he had just been a target, but now … now he was real.

  Vividly real.

  All her life, Tess had felt the presence of a greater power watching over her, protecting her. Why else had she been spared from the Derespino Virus when so many had died? Who but the Creator could have saved her? That was what had drawn her to Revelation’s powerful interpretation of The Faith: at its centre was a God of action and justice who didn’t flinch from conflict and struggle.

  A radical God.

  But now Tess had glimpsed a terrible flaw: for Revelation, The Faith was a religion of judgement, which meant it would always be a religion of blood.

  She looked up at the icon that loomed over the altar. Despite the violence and horror of the death it depicted, hadn’t people once seen this icon as a symbol of love and forgiveness? Of tolerance not vengeance?

  Maybe it was precisely because it was quieter and gentler that this understanding of The Faith had become so hollowed out and marginalized, usurped by the fervour of Revelation.

  But what was the true interpretation?

  Tess clasped her hands together and reached out, praying to the Creator as a god of love, not vengeance, begging for His help in unravelling the deadly knot that had trapped her.

  In the silence of the cavernous church she listened for salvation … but all she heard were her own doubts echoing back.

  Tess slumped down.

  Deep in her heart she knew it was too late. After everything she had done, all the blood that was on her hands, she was beyond redemption. Even a god of love could not overlook her sins.

  Tess’s smartCell beeped. The message was stark and simple: Eugene Rosner.

  It meant the gun was ready.

  Following Revelation was the only thing left for her; all other doors were closed. Tess had lived by their version of The Faith; she would have to die by it.

  And kill by it.

  54

  A hit inside the City demanded special precautions.

  A printed gun could be burnt, rendering it untraceable, but that risked making the police focus even more attention on the body, which was the last thing Tess wanted. Far better to confuse the investigation from the outset.

  Because of its wealth, Foundation City was constantly targeted by organized gangs from the Continent, who got rich supplying young traders with anything and everything they desired. One of the main thrusts of criminal policing was to keep these gangs out of Foundation, and a huge amount of time and money was spent tracking foreign weapons and operators. Using a known gun from the Continent, combined with the strange burglary at Cillian’s apartment the previous week, should put the investigation nicely on the wrong track.

  Forcing herself not to think about anything but practical details, Tess pushed open the rusty gate of the walled cemetery that sat in the shadow of a football stadium. It had been spared by developers only to be forgotten by the faithful, and few people came here any more. Even so, it wouldn’t be suspicious to see someone wandering among the graves, which made it the perfect dead drop.

  Slowly Tess walked up and down the crooked rows, trudging through pristine snow, checking the names on each tomb, until she came to a small granite cube with a faded brass plate: Eugene Rosner.

  Tess knelt down, brushed the powdery snow aside,
placed a pebble on the tomb as a mark of respect, then gently pressed the nameplate. It clicked open, revealing a small chamber.

  Inside was the gun, a modified Luger.

  She picked it up and turned on the power. The pistol grip pulsed red for a few seconds while it identified her DNA, pre-programmed into the weapon by the armourers at Revelation.

  There was a gentle ping, then the handle glowed blue.

  Ready for the kill.

  55

  Cillian climbed the final steps and emerged onto an exterior viewing platform perched on top of the Baroque dome of the Cathedral of Veneration.

  Snow was falling heavily, but with no wind it felt eerily gentle. He crossed the walkway, sat on a bench at the Skyline Bakery Bar under one of the heaters and ordered a latte and a warm muffin.

  Looking around, he immediately understood why Tess had chosen to meet here. The platform was bustling with school kids who crowded around Hologram Stations, exploring how the City skyline had changed across the centuries. Crowds meant safety, and right now Cillian knew it was impossible to be too paranoid.

  Like many other church buildings, the cathedral had long since stopped being anything to do with religion, and developers had turned it into a state-of-the-art gallery-museum complex.

  Foundation City placed huge emphasis on culture and learning, and generous tax breaks meant that banks were always eager to invest in these showpieces. For years this had been one of Cillian’s favourites, but coming back now, everything felt different. The whole building seemed to be just one big lie. He wondered how the financiers who were so keen to put their names to places like this really made their money. Foundations were always built on somebody’s bones.

  Cillian hoped that the scandal he and Tess were about to reveal would turn Foundation City inside out; but he was afraid. Tempted by wonder-drugs and the miracles promised by radical genetic editing, would anyone be willing to make a stand? And once people knew what he really was, would they reject him? Or worse, hunt him down?

  It was impossible to think through the repercussions; there were too many unknowns. He would just have to face what was coming with grim determination. At least now he wasn’t alone.

  Cillian checked his smartCell. She was late.

  Picking up his coffee, he walked over to the viewing rail and peered down through the falling snow. Thousands of people hurried across Cathedral Plaza. He’d never see Tess coming.

  56

  For once the Clearing-Bots couldn’t keep up with the heavy snowfall. It made walking quickly impossible, which just prolonged Tess’s ordeal.

  She plugged earphones into her smartCell and flooded her head with music, trying to drive out all doubts.

  There is Only One Faith.

  Right is On My Side.

  Doubt is Weakness.

  She repeated the phrases over and over like a mantra, refusing to give any headspace to the Cillian who had trusted her.

  There is Only One Faith.

  Right is On My Side.

  Doubt is Weakness.

  As she crossed Cathedral Plaza she looked up at the once-magnificent old building now festooned with ultra-modern steel and glass additions. The developers had done all they could to remove The Faith from this building.

  But they hadn’t quite succeeded…

  Tess reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over an old key; there were still some hidden parts of the Cathedral of Veneration that could be redeemed.

  Cillian was already waiting for her, paper coffee cup in hand.

  “Tess!” he hurried over.

  “Hey.” She focussed hard on trying to be casual.

  “Coffee?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  Cillian lowered his voice. “So how did it go? What did they find?”

  Tess glanced anxiously at the other people on the viewing platform. “It’s easier if I show you.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…”

  He looked at her with such anticipation and trust.

  “You’ll see. Come on.”

  The wooden steps leading down from the viewing platform threaded between the inner and outer skins of the huge dome, winding around dozens of stone pillars. It was like walking through the building’s skeleton.

  Just beyond the halfway point, Tess ducked under the handrail and followed a narrow ledge around the curve of the dome. Cillian followed her as they headed into the gloom, disappearing from the public areas.

  Abruptly she stopped, took the key from her pocket, unlocked a small wooden door and pushed it open to reveal a spiral stone staircase.

  “Seriously?” Cillian peered down into the shaft that was illuminated by occasional narrow slits.

  “It’s how the bell ringers used to get up and down without being seen.”

  “Where exactly are we going, Tess?”

  “Somewhere safe.”

  And she led the way…

  Down and down…

  Inside the massive stone walls…

  Past the crypt with its boutiques and sushi bars…

  Down into the darkness of the cathedral’s ancient foundations.

  57

  Tess opened the door onto a deep, menacing hum.

  Stretched out before them was a power chamber built into the catacombs; all the electricity collected from panels on the dome was stored here in hundreds of massive batteries, then recycled back into the Cathedral’s grid.

  “Tess, what’s going on?”

  “You’ll see.” She stepped out onto one of the walkways running between the lines of grey power cells.

  Her evasiveness made Cillian feel uneasy, but he knew he had to see this through. There was no going back to his old life, and no-one got answers by running away.

  So he stepped onto the gantry and followed her.

  The air was oppressive with the tension of stored electricity. It was like being on the verge of a conflagration, as if the slightest disturbance would trigger catastrophe.

  Cillian watched the muscles in her back moving, listened to the click of her footsteps on the metal treads. He knew the cadence of her body so well, how she walked, how her head moved as she observed the room. Yet something about Tess now seemed unreachable, as if she had thrown up an invisible barrier between them.

  “If your people don’t want to get involved, we’ll find another way,” he said, trying to get a reaction.

  “I don’t think that would be so smart.”

  Just for a moment he heard regret in her voice.

  “In another world, Cillian, I think we could have had something. But we’re not in another world.” Tess stopped walking. “And in this one …” She turned, arm outstretched, Luger pointing straight at his head. “I have to kill you.”

  React.

  He had to react—

  To defend himself—

  But Cillian was paralysed.

  With shock.

  With fear.

  With sadness.

  “Revelation…” he breathed the word softly, finally understanding that he had been the enemy all along.

  “You should never have trusted me,” Tess said, blinking back tears that pricked her eyes. “I begged them to find another way. But they wouldn’t.” She tightened her grip on the gun. “You don’t belong here. I’m sorry … you should never have existed.”

  Suddenly Cillian’s world slipped. Time beat to an intensely slow rhythm; he saw the veins pulse in Tess’s wrist like the tick of a grandfather clock; he felt the electricity swirling around their bodies like water; he saw her eyes blink once, slow and serene. In this dimension he could reach up and take the gun before she fired. He could get out of this alive.

  But what was the point?

  He had trusted his father, and had been lied to his whole life. He had trusted Tess, and it was about to earn him a bullet in the head. Suddenly Cillian was flooded with a deep weariness. How many more layers of deception were there? If betrayal was all
life had to offer, what was the point of fighting to survive?

  Maybe he really didn’t belong in this world.

  Maybe she was right.

  And maybe this was the way it should end.

  As Cillian made his decision, time caught up again.

  “It’s all right, Tess.”

  She tensed her finger, steeling herself for the kill. “Fight,” she hissed.

  “No.”

  “Fight!”

  “Just do what you have to.” Cillian drew a final breath.

  There is Only One Faith.

  Tess willed herself to squeeze the trigger.

  Doubt is Weakness.

  To finish the job.

  Right is On My side.

  But it didn’t feel like right. It felt like cold-blooded murder.

  It felt like hate.

  “What a disappointment.” The voice cut across the silence.

  Tess spun round and saw Blackwood emerge from the darkness between the power cells.

  “There are so many weak people in the world, Tess. But I never thought you were one of them.”

  “Don’t do this,” she said. “It’s wrong.”

  Blackwood raised his arm so that the laser sights of his Glock 52 projected a red dot onto Cillian’s forehead. “That’s the trouble with thinking too much: it makes you hesitate.” His finger tensed on the trigger. “And hesitation is always a mistake.”

  “Please – let him live!”

  “Watch and learn.”

  “NO!”

  CRACK! CRACK!

  The shots echoed around the power chamber.

  Cillian waited for the pain to sear through his head, for hot sticky blood to explode across his face—

  But it didn’t.

  A gasp spat from Blackwood’s mouth, his eyes glazed with disbelief and he dropped heavily to his knees, revealing a spray of red on the wall behind him.

  For a baffling moment Cillian couldn’t work out what was happening. He looked at Tess, still gripping the gun, holding her aim on Blackwood … who crumpled forwards onto the metal walkway. The back of his head had been blown away.