Jonathan looks a bit sheepish. He probably regrets taking me to see the warriors and thinks I will think less of him now. He asks me if I’m ready for a break but I tell him I must do some work as I’m having lunch with my father.
He pulls a face. ‘Trouble?’
‘Not at all. Just a friendly chat.’
‘Oh yes. I know all about those,’ he says as he leaves.
I wonder what he means.
Father has chosen a rather special restaurant for lunch. It’s at the side of the lake and we have a table in a corner by the window.
I’ve never really got over the lush greenness of the trees, plants and grass on Oasis and here I have a view of an emerald green lawn sloping down to the side of the water. It’s flanked by a profusion of exotic ruby-red flowers. Fantastic. Stella is not with us today and I’m happy about that. There are times when a twosome is better than a threesome, especially when the two people concerned are father and son.
We decide what to eat and drink. Or, rather, Father decides, because I still don’t take much interest in food – the result of those formative years in C55 eating the tasteless contents of food packoids. I can’t wait to ask Father questions and, as soon as the waiter has taken our order, I blurt out three of them at once.
‘Why didn’t you send for me? Did you talk to Heracles yourself? What was his excuse for being here?’
‘Hold on a minute. Let me catch my breath,’ Father says, but he’s smiling that special intimate smile that won me over the day I first met him. ‘Firstly, I didn’t send for you because it wasn’t necessary. Secondly, I didn’t speak to him because that wasn’t necessary either. Thirdly, I don’t know why he came here but I made up a reason acceptable enough to get him released and packed off back to C99. That was all achieved with one phone call to the right person. Aren’t you proud of your father?’
I can’t help wondering, if it was easy as that, why he couldn’t have done something to stop this insulting voyeurism before now, but I decide to keep calm, play the game and nod.
‘What reason did you give for his visit?’
‘I said he was a known hacker – which is true – and that he’d found out about the existence of Oasis and decided to check it out for himself. In other words, he was a tourist.’
‘Unlikely to be true, though.’
‘Very unlikely. He’d already been interrogated and admitted that he’d come to Oasis specifically to meet another mutant humanoid.’ Father’s cool grey eyes meet mine across the table. ‘Have you been in touch with this fellow?’
‘No.’ He goes on looking steadily at me so I feel compelled to add, ‘But he has sent out auto-mails, random ones, trying to find out where I am. On Kali’s behalf. One or two of them landed up on my computer. I didn’t reply, just deleted them.’
He nods and seems to accept what I’ve told him. ‘If anything happens like that again, Michael, please let me know. There are things I might be able to do to prevent further trouble. No one must know where “Mercury” is. You do understand that?’
‘Of course I do. I just didn’t think it necessary to tell you. I dealt with it myself. I don’t want to run to you for every little thing.’
‘I realise you want to be independent and I respect that, but in matters of this kind I’d rather be kept in the loop.’
‘OK. I promise to keep you informed if anything like that happens again.’
‘Good. Here’s our food. Come on – eat up. Enjoy.’
Fillet steak, mushrooms and chips. Delicious. I’m developing taste buds at last. I even try the wine but not too much. I have somewhere I intend to go before going back to uni. ‘Why do you think Heracles was here?’ I ask him.
‘Doing a reconnaissance. Ready for a possible attack.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t believe that. That’s what Durga’s golden warriors are here for, not Heracles. In my opinion, Heracles was looking for me. He may have had some half-baked idea that if I – another mutant humanoid – was enjoying the benefits of living on a satellite, maybe it would be possible for him to live here too.’
Father looks horrified. ‘Looking for you? How would he know you were here?’
‘I’m not sure, but you once told me that the computers in C99 were more advanced than those in the other sectoids. Maybe he hacked in, found out about Oasis, remembered that I hadn’t been seen since the day you visited Headculturedome and put two and two together.’
Father stares at me. ‘You have a quick mind, Michael, but this time I do hope you’re wrong. If he can work out that you disappeared the day I was there, others can put two and two together and come to the same conclusion.’ He frowns. He seems permanently worried that someone will find out our secret.
‘What about the golden warriors?’ I ask, finishing the last chip. ‘Did you manage to get them teleported back?’
‘No luck there, but the couple in the adjacent cubicle was sent back: a young male showing off, taking a young female on the trip of a lifetime. The warriors are a different matter. I was told their very presence was an act of war and…’
‘Ten soldiers to attack a city? They were the advance guard. A show of power. Nothing more.’
‘A bit of sabre-rattling, I agree, but what sort of message does it send to Durga if we let them go with no assurances in return?’
‘What sort of message does it send to Durga if we keep them here? In my opinion holding them is an open invitation to Durga to avenge their capture.’
Father looks uncomfortable. ‘There are some people in the Symposium who, I’m sorry to say, would like Durga to launch an attack. She has no chance of winning. We’re not warriors, but we do have some very advanced weaponry against which Durga and her warriors wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d all be slaughtered on arrival. There are some members of the Symposium who favour that option. They think it would send a definitive message to all the sectoids not to attack the satellites. You could call it the ultimate deterrent.’
‘You can’t agree with that?’
‘Of course not. It would be a massacre. A blood bath. Some think that would be a small price to pay for our security. I disagree. It would be a denigration of everything we stand for, of everything it means to be a human being.’
‘It would send a message to the mutant humanoids that no one cares whether they live or die. All the work Stella has done over the years would be destroyed in one fell swoop.’
Father pushes his plate away. ‘What do you think is the answer, Michael?’
‘There’s only one answer. Negotiation.’
Father is quiet for a moment as he thinks this through. ‘Now the mutant humanoids know about the satellites they naturally want what we have. Suppose we gave them a satellite of their own? How would that suit?’
I laugh. ‘Sounds like another prison to me – except it’s in the open air. A ghetto.’
‘They’re already ghettoised. They wouldn’t be happy living side by side with us, any more than we’d be happy living side by side with them.’
‘Why not? It might work better than you think.’
Easy for me to say. I remember the jeers and insults thrown at the golden warriors by some of the inhabitants of Oasis and the taunts of ‘mutant’ I received from the boys in the park, and know that the success of such an experiment would be far from easy to achieve.
‘You and I seem to get on all right,’ I say to lighten the mood.
He laughs then, that rich laugh that I’m learning to appreciate. ‘Two reconstituted completes! Well, we can’t decide on the future of the world over lunch. What would you like for dessert?’
I enter the narrow streets of the Oasis Project. They are deserted again apart from one or two youths hanging about on a street corner who give me odd looks as I pass. I make for the red brick building where I saw the little dancer in the blue dress. I’ve only gone a few steps when I realise the boys are following me. I stop and look around. They pull up and huddle together. When I start walking I hear the
ir footsteps behind me again. I circle the streets, trying to give them the slip. A bit stupid, because they must know these streets better than I do. Sure enough they jump out at me and one of them grabs my arm and drags me into the porch of a house. I struggle to get free, but a blindfold is tied over my eyes and my pockets emptied. They don’t find much. I haven’t any possessions to speak of apart from my mob-fone kit, a present from Father that I haven’t yet had fitted. If I’d taken the time to have the chip put behind my ear they wouldn’t have been able to take it. What a bummer to have lost that.
‘Give it back to him,’ says a high, clear voice. I hear the mob-fone kit drop and the boys run off. My rescuer unties the rag round my eyes. It’s the girl I saw the other day. She’s wearing the same blue dress.
‘Hello again,’ she says, grinning, and I see again the bright clear blue of her eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to find you,’ I say with a boldness I’m far from feeling.
She leans down, picks up my mob-fone kit and taps into it. ‘There. That’s my number. You should get that fitted pronto.’ She smiles. ‘My name is Elizabeth – Lizzy. Next time, please call me before you come and I’ll make sure we don’t have company.’
She glances down the street where the youths are still watching us. ‘What’s your name?’
I’m just about to say “Michael” when I change my mind. ‘I’m Edward Darcy,’ I tell her.
‘Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth,’ she laughs. ‘Good one. OK Mr. Darcy, I’ll buy that.’
She glances down the street again. ‘Brothers are such a pain. Over protective. Have to go now. Call me. Don’t forget now,’ and, with a swish of her skirt, she swirls round and trips into one of the identical houses.
I’m so excited I give a little hop and a skip as I set off to find my way out of the labyrinth of streets. Another adventure is about to begin. Her brothers snigger but don’t follow me.
Lizzy. I can’t stop saying her name to myself. She’s bright, beautiful and, as a bonus, a Jane Austen reader. I have no idea how she’s landed up in the Oasis Project but I’ll find out and see if there’s anything I can do to help her. Maybe I can find her a job or a grant to study at the university. My imagination soars, my mind full of this girl. I realise I must keep her a secret from Father and even from Jonathan. It won’t be difficult. I find that I don’t want to tell anyone about her. I want to keep her existence private. She’s someone just for me. I’m Darcy and she’s my Elizabeth Bennett. I call into a tech shop on the way back to uni and get my chip fitted. The guy in the shop shows me how to use it.
‘This is the latest model, a real state-of-the-art cell,’ he tells me, impressed. ‘The sort that members of the Symposium use.’
I don’t tell him my father gave it to me and he’s the Minister of Culture.
‘You need to import your favourites from your old mob here,’ he explains.
‘I’ll put them in later,’ I tell him.
I haven’t an old one and I haven’t any favourites – only Lizzy. I suppose I could add Jonathan but I see him everyday so there’s not much point. I ring Lizzy’s number straightaway. There is no reply. I don’t leave a message. I want to talk to her and hear her voice and make what I suppose is called a date.
I’ll make myself wait until tomorrow. Or perhaps later today.
Back at my compu, I open the portal that reveals the wilderness and the outside of the domed compounds, a similar scene to the one that Stella showed me once before. The wind blows dust balls mixed with plant life over the barren ground. Still barren, yes, but I can see signs of life: green shoots pushing their way up through the packed-down soil – and surely that’s a tiny animal scuttling across, searching for food. A field mouse, a rabbit? A weasel? Some creature that has survived underground and propagated despite the plague. How resilient life forms are, whether plants, animals, humanoids or human beings. Every living creature is programmed to fight for survival. I think of Lizzy and wonder about her life.
A humming noise as a survey-drone cruises over the wilderness. In the distance a golden mist comes into view. A mirage? I zoom in for a close-up. Out of the swirling haze emerges a glorious sight: two golden chariots flanked by a battalion of marching warriors. No horses or golden calves to pull the chariots. They must be power-driven. I can only speculate on the fuel that has been used to run them. All kinds of alternative energies were explored in the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries but I rather suspect that present-day scientists have discovered new sources of power. I must remember to find out what they are. It’s important to keep up with research. The chariots do not move very fast but give an impression of speed, as they churn up the dust.
A close-up reveals Durga in the first chariot. Her red-gold hair flows out of her golden helmet. Spectacular. Slightly behind her, in the second chariot, stands a figure that makes my heart beat faster. Another zoom in and there is no doubt about it. It’s Kali, her blue-black face glowing under her helmet; my old mates, her snakes at neck and wrists, extend their sleek, shiny bodies, their mouths open wide, revelling in this bold ride. The warriors march in step on either side of the chariots, their golden breastplates, shields and weapons gleaming. How magnificent is that! Seeing a group of them in the museum is nothing to this, but I do have a twinge of conscience. I’m a voyeur, just like the visitors to the museum. Just like Stella. Computers have imposed on their privacy. But this is only a fleeting thought. I don’t let it stop me watching this drama that is about to be played out.
I don’t need to be told where they’re going. Not to Oasis but to Compound 55 – to reclaim it for Kali.
I am so privileged to be able to see this, but it’s a privilege I’ve taken for myself by hacking into a computer owned by the university. I must take care that my subversive action is not discovered. As if to remind me of that fact, Jonathan appears again. I minimise the screen and tell him that I’m in the middle of something important but could take a break in a couple of hours. There’s no way I can leave now. It would be like switching off an action movie in the middle and missing the end.
Durga, Kali and the warriors are streaming across the wilderness towards C55. The effect is like a huge bar of solid gold. Unstoppable.
Outside a dome – it must be C55 – Durga pulls up and raises her hand. The warriors halt. Durga and Kali line up their chariots, side by side. The warriors stand in formation on either flank. Resplendent, forbidding, terrifying.
Durga calls out ‘Advance party – forward march!’ and ten warriors step forward. What next? How are they going to break down that door? I don’t need to wonder for long. The captain of the advance guard is holding a huge key. Resourceful Kali didn’t leave her beloved compound without making sure she could re-enter when she wanted to. The captain unlocks the door and the advance guards, rifles at the ready, enter the sectoid. Durga, Kali and the others remain in position, perfectly still.
I zoom inside my old compound. The warriors point their rifles at the shocked workforce of C55. Jason and Apollo exchange looks and step back. Merlin pulls a face. Damocles squirms and recoils. The females cringe. The warriors indicate that everyone should stand up, leave their workstations and line up against the far wall of the compu-centre. They don’t have to be told twice.
All the workers scramble to their feet and make an uncoordinated dash towards the wall, with a variety of jerky movements. I’ve forgotten how this lack of control leads to misjudgement of space. My ex-colleagues bump into each other and into any object that gets in their way. I stare at them, pitying them. Was I as clumsy as this? I hate myself for my reaction and begin to understand, for the first time, how easy it must be for completes to look down on mutant humanoids.
‘No need to worry,’ says the three-eyed captain. ‘We do not intend to hurt anyone. Don’t oppose us and you will not be harmed. We have come for Sati.’
A few more exchanged looks but no one volunteers information as to Sati’s whereabouts. They cower against the wall,
hands in the air, too frightened to move or speak.
The captain details six of his team to seek out Sati and to round up any other stray members of the workforce. The warriors, although mutants themselves, are so much more coordinated than the humanoids in this sectoid. I conclude that it’s the training they’ve received that have made their legs and arms perform the exacting movements needed to march, hold their weapons and fight. I remember my own excruciating training with Janey and realise how hard they must have worked to achieve such control.
Some of the warriors return with a few more members of C55’s workforce. They prod them with their rifles and herd them against the wall with the others.
Following them down the silver cylinder march four more warriors, Sati between them. She floats along on the tips of her toes between her cohorts as smoothly as ever, her two heads turning effortlessly from side to side taking in the situation. She sees her intimidated workforce pressed against the wall and smiles. Full marks to her for trying to look unconcerned. She’s certainly keeping her dignity; but she’s waiting for something. If it’s for her workforce to rebel, she’s going to be disappointed. They clutch on to each other, cringing, and one or two of them are whimpering. The warriors lead her to the open door. She looks outside, sees her two sister-wives in their chariots and the block of warriors on either side of them.
‘Quite a show, Durga,’ she says. ‘You and your toy soldiers.’
‘I’ve come to take you away from here, Sati,’ Durga declares.
Sati smiles. ‘Where do you intend to take me, Durga, my beloved sister-wife?’
‘To my compound, C98.’
‘And what do you intend to do with me there?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out. I will do exactly what I like with you. Throw you in prison or kill you. Or – I might empty out your brain of all those silly ideas and give you another chance. Depends on how you behave yourself.’
Ascension Page 22
