City Under Ice

by T E Olivant

  “You see how each character means something. Next we have a set of letters. They are always the same.

  “FTR”

  “So, what do you think that means?”

  I shook my head.

  “Go on,” he said, and he leaned across and took my hand. “Think about the T first.”

  He was holding my hand! I could barely think straight, but I tried my best, and really it was easy.

  “T for Tech. So maybe something Tech Room? So the message goes to our room?” He laughed and nodded.

  “Well done! Took me a week to get that one I’m embarrassed to say. Yeah, I think it’s probably First Tech Room.”

  “But wait, that doesn’t make sense, we’re not the first Tech room, we’re the only Tech room.”

  “You’re right, but I think maybe that wasn’t always the case. Think how much bigger the population used to be in the city. They might easily have had several Tech rooms to deal with all the data.”

  I nodded. It made sense. Everywhere you looked in the city there were empty rooms, dusty corridors that nobody went down any more. My mother used to say it was better now, more room for everyone, not like the old days. But I wondered sometimes. What happened if every year there were less and less babies, more and more empty rooms? How would it all end? I looked back at Sam and saw his big dark eyes staring back at me and my mind went blank.

  Sam spoke again. He seemed distracted and edgy somehow, “I got a really weird message today.”

  “Was it a red message? Like the one with the map numbers…”

  “Let me finish.” I winced at his tone, but he didn’t seem to notice. “So this message was a copy that had been forwarded, but although the forwarded message was encrypted, the original wasn’t.”

  I didn’t need to say to Sam that he shouldn’t have read it, even if it hadn’t been encrypted, he knew that well enough. I bit my lip and stared at the dusty wall.

  “Should we be talking about this here?” I asked.

  “There’re no microphones, I’ve checked. Anyway, don’t you want to hear what the message said?”

  I didn’t, not really. I felt as though we were being watched, and Sam’s mention of microphones made me doubly nervous. Rumour had it that listening devices were hidden all over the city. Just having this conversation was practically treason, we were terribly exposed. I wished I’d never come.

  “The message was a list.”

  Nearly an hour into our almost-a-date and Sam was still talking about the message he had seen. I was starting to think he was obsessed.

  “What kind of list?” I asked although I wished we could talk about something else.

  “Well, I worked that one out too. There were strings of letters and numbers on one side, then amounts down the other. The amounts at the top were in the hundreds but near the bottom it went down to single figures. At the bottom of the page someone had typed ‘supply level critical 3797’.”

  In spite of myself I gave this some thought. “It’s a list of supplies. And if they are critical then I guess they must be things that are running out? But what about this number, 3797?”

  “I have no idea about 3797 but I worked out what the strings of letters were. It took me a while, but it was SD that gave it away. The number next to this was zero. So what have they stopped giving out in the last few weeks?” To give me a clue he shook the now empty juice cup in front of my face.

  “Strawberry drink!”

  “Exactly! And OD was orange drink and so on.”

  “But what does all this mean?”

  Sam crumpled the empty drink container in his fist.

  “It means we’re running out of food.”

  We were both quiet then for a few minutes. I was trying to take this news in – how could the City be running out of food? How had this been allowed to happen? I looked up to see that Sam was watching me, waiting for me to speak.

  “I still don’t see why you would have been sent the message?” Part of me wanted to say that it must all have been a misunderstanding, that Sam had misread the list, although a heaviness in my chest told me that wasn’t the case.

  “I wasn’t meant to receive the message at all. I looked at the bottom of the text, where the instructions were placed, and there it was. “CC 72”. Two numbers the wrong way around was all it took. The message should have gone to desk number seventy-two, not twenty-seven.”

  “Isn’t seventy-two the Supervisor’s desk?”

  Sam nodded, his mouth set in a wry smile. “Exactly, Lisanne. That message was for the supervisor. They got the numbers the wrong way around. Human error, that’s all.”

  “And what did you do then?”

  “What could I do? I deleted the message and cleared it from the logs. But I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and I want you to help me do it.”

  So, this was why he had asked me here. He wasn’t interested in me at all. All he wanted was someone to talk to about his conspiracy theories. The kind of theories that got you arrested. He probably didn’t even like me, just wanted someone to listen to his stupid stories. I felt hot all over and my eyes pricked with tears that I was determined he wouldn’t see. Meanwhile Angel Sam just kept talking as if nothing was wrong.

  “We need to investigate and find out if it’s true. If the city is running out of food, then the people deserve to know before they starve to death.”

  I looked at him with my mouth open. This wasn’t sneaking into the Archives to look at an old book, this was practically treason. I pictured my mother’s face as Sam and I were hauled before the court for spreading seditious rumours. I couldn’t allow this to happen.

  “You’re talking like a Walker!” I said, my voice high pitched.

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t want to die, Lisanne. I just want to find out what’s going on. Don’t you wish there was more to life than eating box meals and sitting in front of a computer all day?”

  I thought of my mother, all her ambition cooped up in our underground home, my father getting old before his time. And I thought of myself, and that was most confusing of all.

  “I don’t know…”

  “There’s nothing but secrets in this city. They’ve been keeping the truth from us, and I mean to stop it. I want you to do it with me.”

  Sweat ran down Angel Sam’s temple although it wasn’t hot in the room. I stared at him. How could I ever have thought he was handsome? He was dangerous. He was a liar. I turned away, but he grabbed desperately at my arm.

  “Please, Lisanne, you have to believe me.”

  I pushed him away. “Just don’t. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I believe in working until four on Friday. I believe that Thursday is beetroot day. I believe in my life being the same every single day.” I paused and took a deep breath. “I believe what I need to survive. Why don’t you ever learn to do the same?”

  Sam looked angry, or was it just disappointment that I saw in his eyes.

  “Who is it that you think I am?” I was angry now too. “I’m the girl who is exactly where she wanted to be. I’m an eighty, I’m clever, some people even think I’m pretty. Soon I’ll marry another eighty and we’ll make sure our genes keep the whole human race going.”

  “That’s a pretty big dream.” He said, folding his arms across his chest.

  “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.”

  “Someone like me.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “A seventy Sam. Someone who is only seventy percent human.”

  Angel Sam had gone deadly quiet. He stared at my face for a while, looking for something. I felt tears gather behind my eyes but I set my jaw hard.

  “You’re right again Lisanne.” He said quietly. “I will never understand you.”

  And then he walked away.

  Chapter 6: Kyrk

  I followed the Seeker across the White for three days before my food ran out. Seekers are built tall and their long legs stride across the
ice. They have large feet that let them stand easily on snow drifts. I had none of these things, but I was fuelled by the need to know what the stranger knew about my parents. Part of me knew that I was just filling my mind with something other than the loss of the kids. Perhaps I was just running away – putting distance between myself and the Meet. All that I knew was that something deep in my bones told me to follow this stranger wherever he went.

  The first two days the snow swirled around us, dancing in front of my eyes and making my feet unsteady on the White. Yet I walked with confidence. Without the children I walked as fast as I could, never pausing, never catching the figure in the distance, but never losing him either. He wove in and out of the edge of my vision like a ghost, but I refused to let him disappear.

  On the third night the weather softened and I could see the Seeker clearly, a strong tall figure in the distance, always in motion, gliding across the ice. We were playing a strange game. I had no doubt that he knew I was there, we were the only two moving shapes in the sterile landscape. Yet he never looked round, not once. For my part I never varied my pace, never tried to catch up with him. After all, what would I have said if I did?

  By the fourth morning my body was starting to suffer. I had run out of food many long hours before and my energy was nearly gone. My steps grew heavier with each hour and the muscles in my legs burned and itched. Worst of all I started to feel the cold. Not the icy wind that always took my breath away, or the feeling of snow crystals between my toes. But true cold, the kind that gets into your bones, and never leaves. My ancestors had modified their bodies so that we could withstand the cold of the White, but we were never meant to live in it indefinitely, and certainly not under this much strain. At least, I was under strain. The Seeker never faltered.

  The fourth night I slept as I walked, shivering from my teeth to my claws. I drifted in and out of sleep, stumbling on the ice and never truly resting. My dreams were filled with horrible images of my parents being murdered by shadowy figures who never quite revealed themselves. When the sun rose over the distant mountains I was nearly broken, but more determined than ever to find some answers.

  At first, I thought it was a mirage, but over the next few hours of daylight while I trudged through the snow there appeared a strange object on the horizon. A jagged black shape that gave off an air of menace even from miles away.

  This was the Seeker’s Peak. I had heard of it, but never thought I would see it for myself. Some people said the Peak had once been a great metal building, built by humans before the White. Others said it was a great mountain that had been swallowed by snow until only the very tip remained. The Seeker clan had colonised the structure with their own strange buildings until its true shape was masked.

  Something else had changed in the landscape but it took me a few meters before my sluggish brain could realise what it was. My companion, the man I had followed for so long, had stopped.

  After four days of walking it took only a few minutes for me to reach him.

  “You made it.” He said softly. It was not a congratulations: merely a statement of fact.

  I nodded, not sure if I was capable of speech. The Seeker sat cross legged in the snow. Although I hadn’t noticed it, he did carry a pack, it was strapped across his front rather than on his back in Hunter fashion. Next to the pack was a small knife. It was sheathed in plain leather.

  “Sit and drink.” I sat, or rather collapsed onto the ground and took the water pouch he offered. As I drank I took another look at the man. He was older than I had thought, but he must have been incredibly tough as he showed little sign of the hard journey. I, on the other hand, looked ragged and tired. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open.

  “What’s your name?” I grunted. It was the least of my questions but I had to ask it first.

  “Swift.” He said. I nearly laughed, but the sound stuck in my dry throat. Swift indeed.

  “Close your eyes for a few moments while I set a fire. Then we must talk before we reach the Peak.”

  How could I argue? My eyes were closed before my head touched the snow.

  I woke up later, with no idea of how long I had slept, and I half imagined that the Seeker would have disappeared. But he was still there, sitting cross-legged as if he hadn’t moved a muscle. He had lit a fire, and I was interested to see he had done it like we hunters did. He had made a bowl in the snow and scraped in white animal fat before lighting it. Unlike a hunter however he let the smoke drift over the landscape. He must have been confident that there was nothing to fear.

  I shuffled close to the fire as the Seeker added dry moss and I let the flames lick my fingertips. I began to thaw. The Seeker brought out a packet of venison jerky and held it towards me. I just about managed to stutter a thank you before crammed the meat into my mouth.

  “You are a Hunter, correct?”

  I nodded, barely listening. I worked the dried meat quickly round my teeth then swallowed and reached for another piece.

  “Strong then. Not the fastest, but not the slowest either. Not very clever or inventive.” The Seeker seemed to be talking more to himself than to me. I let him reduce me to my clan traits. It barely bothered me – I was used to it.

  “I suppose you are wondering why I followed you.” I said.

  “I know why you followed me. It’s because I told you to.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Really?” The man’s fierce eyes turned on me and I faltered a little.

  “You said my parents were murdered, so I followed you.”

  “Yes, definitely not the cleverest.”

  There was no answer to that one. So I sat in silence. Every muscle in my body ached from our trek across the White. The Seeker let the silence fill the air, then spoke in what seemed like a rehearsed speech.

  “You are a Hunter, born to your clan. Seekers, unlike the members of other clans, may also be chosen. Or rather, they are allowed to choose. Sometimes, maybe only once in a generation, a youngster will follow a Seeker, just as you follow me. They come for all sorts of reasons, from boredom or excitement, looking for revenge or answers. But however they come they always end up staying.”

  I rubbed my eyes, like Mya would do at bedtime. I couldn’t understand all of what Swift was saying, but what I did understand I didn’t like.

  “I didn’t mean to come here. Not really, I just wanted you to explain what you said about my parents. I don’t want to be a Seeker.” I felt tired and fed up. Swift seemed to be trying to get some reaction from me. I wished I knew what it was so that I could just give him it and get some sleep.

  “All this way just for the answer to one question?”

  “It’s a pretty important question.”

  The Seeker chewed his meat slowly.

  “You see, here’s the problem. I want to tell you. Actually, I think you deserve to know. But your parents were involved in something bigger than you or I. I can only talk about it with another member of my clan. So…”

  “So, to find out about my parents I have to become a Seeker.”

  “Exactly. Perhaps you are not so stupid after all.”

  “If I was to become a Seeker…”

  “You must do so. If you want to find out what happened to your parents. Now help me clean up.”

  A gust of wind blew some light top snow over my feet. I glared at the Seeker. I had no wish to join his clan, but it seemed like there was no choice. Perhaps if I played along I could find out about my parents’ deaths before I had to become a Seeker.

  “So how exactly do I go about changing my clan?” I covered the remnants of the fire over with clean fresh snow. Swift had insisted that we clean up after breakfast before we walked to the Peak. But he hadn’t said I couldn’t ask questions while we worked.

  “You must take an oath before the Chief. But before that, the clan must find you worthy. Normally the fact that I have nominated you would be enough to convince them. But our Chief is new, and we have not always… seen eye to eye.�
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  “Then it might not be that easy?”

  “It won’t be easy at all. But nothing worthwhile in life ever is.”

  I sighed. Now that the novelty had worn off, I was finding speaking to a Seeker nothing more than annoying. All I wanted was to find out about my parents, and this was all a means to an end. I made a decision: if it meant I had to become a Seeker to do it, then so be it.

  “If you are to be successful, you must be prepared to stop thinking like a Hunter,” Swift said, seeing that I had finished the cleaning. “You must think like a Seeker. You must embrace our ways without reservation. And first you have to learn to question everything you think you know about our people.”

  “About the Seekers?”

  “No, the people. Our race. Don’t you know anything about where you are from?”

  “My parents told me some things, about the clans and...”

  “And your obsession with the bloody clans! I’d have thought a Hunter might be a bit more inclined to use his wits. What about the people as a whole? Don’t you know anything about how we came to be?” I knew some of course, but by this point I was pretty fed up, so I crossed my arms and waited for the lecture.

  “When the end of the world came, and the planet was covered in snow, our ancestors had to fight to survive. They used science, medical science so advanced that we can only imagine it, to mould our bodies to suit the White.”

  “I know, and they made the different clans so that the Builders were big, and the Hunters were strong, and the Seekers...”

  “And the Seekers were what?”

  “Cunning,” I said. And Swift laughed.

  “Well, cunning’s probably right. But you’re wrong you see. They didn’t make the clans at all. They made us all, one race of men. Over time the clans developed in certain ways, and due to their scientific engineering, we probably developed faster than even they imagined. That is why the clans seem so different. But we are all one people, from cunning Seekers, to stupid Hunters.”