Gemsigns

by Stephanie Saulter

  DAY THREE

  10

  UrbanNews.ldn/headlines/current

  GEM PATRON LEFT FOR DEAD

  Police are investigating a violent attack outside a nightclub that has left a young gem fighting for his life. The attack occurred at around midnight near the Sparklers club on Cable Street, a venue known to be frequented by both genetically modified and normal patrons. The victim, a gem known as Callan, appears to have been targeted because of his genetic status.

  Witnesses say that Callan, formerly of the Bel’Natur conglomerate, left the club shortly before midnight. He was found several hours later in a nearby alleyway as Sparklers was closing down for the night. He was unconscious and appeared to have sustained both knife wounds and a severe beating, most likely committed by multiple assailants. He was taken to the Royal London Hospital where he remains in a critical condition with what are said to be particularly horrific injuries. Police confirm that anti-gem graffiti was found in the alley where he was assaulted.

  Staff members describe Callan as a frequent and popular visitor to Sparklers, and were not aware of any disputes or enemies he may have had. Stunned revellers spoke of a funloving and attractive young man with many admirers. Callan is thought to reside in the city’s primary gem enclave, the area known as the Squats in East London. Residents there are said to be deeply shocked. The attack is the most serious in a recent string of incidents involving gems.

  Initial reviews of surveillance vids from the vicinity of the attack have so far proved inconclusive. Police are asking anyone who may have information, or who may have been in the area between 11:30 p.m. and 3:30 a.m., to come forward. The authorities are unable to say whether the European Conference on the Status of Genetically Modified Humans, which begins in London this week, is a factor in the growing tensions. Dr Robert Trench, the Acting Commissioner for Gem Affairs, has condemned the attack and appealed for calm.

  Eli gulped his coffee, found it had gone cold as he read. He fumbled his earset into place as he pulled up Aryel Morningstar’s comcode. It buzzed twice before she answered.

  ‘Eli. Morning. Sorry, I haven’t got visual.’ He could hear the wind whistling in the background and wondered where she was. It was still dark outside, the pre-dawn gloom of a short winter day.

  ‘Just as well for your sake. I wouldn’t have called so early, but I’m reading the news.’

  ‘I’ve been up since they found him.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Very bad. They don’t know if he’s going to make it. He looks more like a piece of meat than a human being.’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’

  ‘I’ve just left the hospital.’

  There was a pause. He could imagine her struggling down steps and around corners, fighting the wind that would catch her oversized coat like a sail and try to sweep her off her feet. The buffeting sound stopped abruptly, with a click that sounded like a door closing.

  ‘What do the police think?’

  ‘That it was a godgang. They’ve got them on the area vids, wrapped in layers of camouflage so ID will be next to impossible. They left signs – an inverted cross, hate messages – on and around his body.’ Her voice was bitter. ‘They used his own blood.’

  ‘Dear lord.’

  ‘Do you believe in god, Eli?’

  For a moment he could not understand why she would ask such a question. Then he replayed his own muttered imprecation. ‘No, I don’t. Just one of those expressions the language can’t seem to shake. A substitute for not knowing what to say.’ He rubbed his hands over his face, resenting the gritty feel of not enough sleep. ‘Look, what can I do? Seriously.’

  ‘Come tonight.’

  ‘You still think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘I think it’s even more so. You said you were after balance. Well, we need some of that ourselves.’

  He had already decided to say yes, had called in part to see if she wanted to rescind the invitation under the circumstances. He was unaccountably pleased that she had not.

  ‘Rob told me’ – when had it been? The ride from the train station felt like ages ago – ‘that animosities were growing. He was worried about gems being victimised, but also that they wouldn’t just be victims.’

  ‘He’s right. A lot of us would have no trouble at all fighting back, especially after what’s happened to Callan.’

  ‘The attack on him will shock a lot of people – norms – into greater sympathy for the gem position. It always happens: people don’t really think about it, they sit on the fence, until there’s an … event.’

  ‘Have you checked the socialstreams this morning?’

  Another apparently unrelated question. This time he could not discern the connection. ‘No, I don’t spend much time on them. Why?’

  ‘You should, especially this week. Look at any of them. MyNews or Bushgram, something like that.’

  ‘Hang on.’

  He pulled up the links on his tablet, flipping from one stream to another, cold sweat gathering on his spine. The story was everywhere, reposts and commentary flickering into life as he watched. Many linked to pictures of the alley, even of the victim in situ, taken before the paramedics and police had arrived and secured the scene.

  He scrolled back through the timeline. The initial posts were dominated by the combination of outraged condemnation and horrified fascination he expected. That theme was continuing. But as the hours had rolled on a different note had crept in: first excusing and then justifying. Now the streams were alive with posts registering satisfaction, gratification, even encouragement. Disapproval of the permissiveness that now allowed gems not only to live as freely as norms, but to go partying with them as well, ranged from unease to fury. Rumours were circulating of Callan’s supposed proclivities, and those of other gems. Tales were offered up in vindication of what the soft-minded might unfairly view as harsh treatment. The competing trends vied for supremacy on every stream he checked.

  ‘Aryel?’ he said, hearing his own voice soft with shock. ‘I don’t believe this.’

  ‘When people get off the fence,’ she said, ‘they tend to come down on both sides.’

  *

  Zavcka Klist read the streams with considerably greater equanimity. She wondered whether it would be inappropriate to send flowers, decided that a simple bouquet of medicinal blooms and a hand-written note expressing deep concern would be just the right touch. She ordered them for delivery that morning, and was rewarded by an aggravated call from Felix when she arrived at the office a couple of hours later.

  ‘There’s a news team asking for a comment. Something about a get-well card. PR routed it to me.’

  ‘I know. I told them if there were any enquiries to send it up here. Didn’t you get my message?’

  He mumbled something about not having checked yet. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re doing. I don’t intend to talk to them.’

  ‘No problem.’ Her voice was crisp. ‘I’ll do it.’

  She would have preferred to handle it via message, but there was a reporter with vidcam waiting. She went down to meet them.

  ‘We’re all shocked and deeply upset,’ she told the woman from the BBC. ‘We remain very concerned about all of our former associates. Obviously we’re no longer able to protect them from this kind of violence and hatred,’ she shook her head sorrowfully, ‘but we do monitor what’s going on. It’s very distressing.’

  ‘Do you worry about them?’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘Do you think there will be more incidents like this?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not. It’s hard to imagine such a thing happening even once in a civilised society, but,’ she spread her hands, ‘here we are. Poor Callan has paid the price. We can only pray no one else has to suffer like that.’

  ‘We understand his condition remains critical.’

  ‘So I gather, but I don’t know any more than that. The health service doesn’t regard us as family. We do have Callan’s genetype of cour
se, as well as his health records up to the point he left our care, and we’ve offered to share them with the hospital in case they might be helpful to his recovery. Beyond that I’m afraid we just have to wait and hope he’s able to pull through.’

  The reporter was looking perplexed.

  ‘I must say, Miss Klist, that your concern for this young man is … well, not what most people would expect.’

  ‘I think there’s been a real misunderstanding of our position with respect to people like Callan. I know,’ as the reporter tried to interrupt, ‘that there have been some serious errors and abuses in the past, and unfortunately the public has formed the impression that those incidents are representative. I think you and I both know that they’re not. You don’t spend a lifetime creating and caring for people without caring about them as well.’

  ‘Do you wish he’d stayed within Bel’Natur?’

  Zavcka stared over the reporter’s shoulder for a moment, as if deeply considering the question.

  ‘At the risk of being politically incorrect …’ she said slowly. ‘Under the circumstances? Given what’s happened to him? Yes, I wish he had. He’d have been safe.’

  ‘Thank you very much for your time.’

  The interview was uploaded almost immediately with virtually no editing. She was thoroughly satisfied with it. She sent the link to everyone who was working on preparations for the Conference. Felix responded with an almost-chastened reply to her earlier message that simply said, ‘Oh, I see. Well done.’

  A few more press enquiries came in and she repeated the best lines. By lunchtime the deep and sincere concern of Bel’Natur formed part of the background to the story. She was pleased to note that some of the other gemtechs were following their lead. The assistant to the managing director of Gempro messaged to ask when she would be free for lunch.

  At around mid-morning a call came in on her private comcode. The knife-thin face peering up from the tablet ran an unregistered company out of a nondescript address. She was quite sure no one else at Bel’Natur knew he existed.

  ‘I see you’re Our Lady of Charity now. Not sure I should even be calling.’

  ‘I do what I gotta do, just like you. You have something for me?’

  ‘Maybe. Sample came in, matched the one you provided.’

  She was completely, tensely alert. ‘Came in from where?’

  ‘That’s what’s weird. My guy in the lab is pretty sure it was a gem.’

  ‘The sample or …’

  ‘We couldn’t find any engineering markers on it either, but we knew to expect that. No, I meant the person who brought it in. No obvious gemsign, but my source was in the biz long enough to tell.’

  She sat back and thought about that. ‘Very curious. Do you have a location?’

  ‘My bet is it’s going to turn out to be fake, along with the name. We’ve got some ideas, though.’

  ‘Send me everything.’

  *

  Eli watched the interview in silence. Rob was sputtering indignation at the screen.

  ‘Some serious abuses? Some? SOME?’ He turned to Eli. ‘Do you believe this shit?’

  ‘I believe she wishes he’d been locked up in a dorm somewhere. As for the rest of it …’ He considered the conversations he’d had with Zavcka Klist. ‘Her attitude on the train was proprietary, yes, but also very paternalistic, so it sort of fits. There was less of that yesterday, but under the circumstances …’ He shrugged. ‘What strikes me is how much more concern she’s showing for this victim than for the ones in the report she gave me.’

  ‘You didn’t have a vidcam and a worldwide audience.’

  ‘This is true.’

  Eli had gone to Whitehall early so he could talk over the socialstream trends with Rob. Many posts included the link, along with their own sympathies and best wishes. Opposing views ranged from vitriolic denunciations of gems and gemtechs alike, to assertions that political correctness was indeed to blame for turning a manageable situation into a crisis and there ought to be a great deal less of it. Those posts linked to the interview as well. He found neither association encouraging.

  Rob was doing his teeth-sucking thing. ‘She’s laying the groundwork for something. She’s trying to make it look like they want to help the gems.’

  ‘That’s not the only angle. She wouldn’t have volunteered that vid without a reason.’

  Eli watched the posts crawl up the screen: pro-gem, anti-gem, pro-gem, anti-gem. ‘Either she knows about a real threat for which Bel’Natur would be liable, and dumping responsibility on me is a damage-limitation exercise – or she’s planning to leak the vid, and sweep in with a plan to keep gems and norms safe from each other.’ He leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs, an extended hypotenuse to its right angle, as he stared at the ceiling. ‘Or both.’

  ‘That’s a hell of a conspiracy theory.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean it’s not true.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Eli followed the almost invisible lines where power panels had been inset into the plaster, reached the window, and gazed unseeing out at the freezing grey of a London winter.

  ‘What if the threat is real?’ he said. ‘The fact that we’re being manipulated, that she’s doing it for her own ends, still doesn’t prove the world isn’t full of gems who are latent psychopaths. And sure, it’s not their fault, but is that going to make it any better if even one turns out to be another sexual sadist? Or a serial killer? Or a paedophile?’

  He looked at his friend. ‘What’s my obligation here, Rob? Do I say all gems should be treated equally, and take that risk? Or do I find that the evidence supports some kind of typing, a categorisation that lets us control the ones we’re not sure about? Because it could. That interpretation wouldn’t be much of a stretch.’

  ‘It would make a lot of politicians happy.’ Rob was struggling to contain his upset. ‘You know what I think. Dealing with gems every day, seeing the wreckage, the trauma, all the fallout from the gemtechs … they’re the ones responsible for this. The gems didn’t ask to be created, they didn’t ask to be different, they didn’t ask to be saddled with all this crap. For them to get the blame …’ He shook his head. ‘It’s just wrong.’

  ‘I know. But it’s not going to do any good if the damage they’ve suffered keeps generating more damage.’ He folded himself back into the chair. ‘What if Bel’Natur’s proposal takes responsibility? What if it really does help? If it’s the right thing does it matter if they do it for the wrong reason?’

  ‘Eli, I hope to hell you’re just being devil’s advocate.’

  ‘Somebody needs to be. Would you prefer me or Zavcka Klist?’

  Guilt pricked at him as he thought of Aryel Morningstar: her dignity, her compassion, her insight. ‘We need an agreement. Or an alternative.’

  *

  He was still wrestling with uncertainties as he made his way along icy pavements to his rendezvous with Sally Trieve, a bit surprised that she hadn’t cancelled given the events of the morning. He had replayed their conversation over and over in his head. He was sure there had been a little nod of satisfaction, as though she had confirmed something to herself, when she said that he also had not remembered Gabriel. But her insinuation that it was he who had requested the meeting, that there was more to discuss, was completely baffling. The slippery surface underfoot felt like the mental landscape he was trying to navigate.

  She had suggested they meet in one of the ancient pubs that dotted the back streets of Westminster. He found the place and stepped into its warmth with relief. It was too early for lunch and therefore not crowded. He spotted her sitting in a snug next to an antique fireplace, at a table too big for them but too small to share. It was the only one in the space, and as he made his way across he picked up the irritated glances of other early arrivals who, he thought, had been denied their usual spot.

  They shook hands and he settled into a chair. He wondered if she was waiting for him to begin, until several ot
her patrons who had followed him in wandered over to a table some distance away and sat down. Then she leaned forward and launched in without preamble.

  ‘Dr Walker, I apologise for the way I set up this meeting. All that nonsense I was spouting was just that, nonsense. But I promise you I’m not crazy.’ Her voice was low and intense. ‘I needed to speak with you directly and I couldn’t explain why via tablet.’ She shook her head. ‘I mean, I didn’t think I should. It might not have mattered, but I can’t be sure.’

  ‘Can’t be sure of what?’

  ‘Whether the transmission might have been monitored, or recorded, or could have been tampered with …’ She took in his disbelieving stare. ‘I don’t know exactly what is and isn’t possible, especially now. What I do know is this.’

  She leaned even further forward, dropped her voice even lower. ‘When you first started looking at the datastreams on the Squats, well over a year ago now, there was no mention of a family with a young child. You would have noticed if there was. Well, me too. I studied the pre-Declaration community survey when I commissioned the follow-up and started assembling services. I even remember the particular entry on Gaela and Bal, because when I saw the note of her ability I was surprised she didn’t need any specialist support. I am absolutely certain there was no mention of a child.’

  ‘You mean the entry was corrected later? He was missed the first time around?’

  ‘I don’t think so, and corrected is not the term I would use. For one thing there would be a record of the change, and believe me when I tell you there isn’t. I have looked in every way that it’s possible to look. And for another, any such update should have been done by me or someone on my team. It would have been brought to my attention and I, like you, would have remembered.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Gaela and Bal were among the very first gems to move into the Squats. Maybe the first. We don’t know exactly when they arrived, but it couldn’t have been while the retrieval squads were active. Whenever it was, I do not believe they had a child then, and I do not believe one has been born to them since.’