He regarded me intently, the muscle in his cheek working hard.
‘Pantheon believes in genetic programming as a tool for managing and improving its population,’ he offered without apology.
‘Improving?’ I repeated.
The vision seemed so alien, so at odds with Arafel I could scarcely imagine it.
‘There were many weaknesses within the human population before the Great War. Pantheon’s Programme uses biotechnology to design out those weaknesses, with the aim of producing a more efficient population and animal hierarchy.’
I placed my empty dish down on the stark white countertop, and drew the back of my hand across my mouth in a deliberate show of defiance. To him and his warped system.
‘That’s inhumane.’ I enunciated slowly and statically. ‘And against every principle of the natural world.’
Grandpa’s voice echoed in my head. I’d grown up listening to him speak passionately about the impact of the Great War and scientific meddling on the natural world, and now his wisdom never felt more important.
‘The Great War destroyed the natural world,’ I continued fiercely, ‘but Thomas passed down the truth: nature takes care of her own.’
‘You should enter the Senate, Talia,’ he mocked, his eyes glinting. ‘You speak persuasively for such a … little feral cat.’
I slid off the stool and drew myself up to my full five-foot-five height.
‘I’d rather be a feral cat, than a genetically optimized pig! What do you know of Arafel, and why do you people assume Outsiders are ignorant?’ I threw out furiously. ‘At least we’ve put our faith into a real world, not some overgrown igloo stuffed with elongated elitists!’
Whatever response my captor might have made was lost in the shrill alarm that suddenly split the air. I dived for cover beneath a slim countertop, while he frowned and stared expectantly at the wall opposite. After a couple of seconds, I raised my head enough to watch a spectrum of light illuminate the white wall space. A moving picture was slowly sharpening into focus.
‘Television?’ I breathed, despite my fury. I’d read about how our ancestors spent too many hours staring at such screens, growing fat, sickly, and isolated.
‘Not quite,’ he answered shortly. ‘You are about to meet our First Minister, Octavia – Director of Genealogy in Pantheon. She is Head of thirty Scientific Generals who manage Isca Pantheon’s Biotechnology Programme.’
‘Was the other Insider in the forest one of them?’ I asked, though I already knew the answer.
‘Yes, Cassius is a Scientific General,’ he returned, his eyes focused on the screen, ‘as am I.’
I stared at my captor’s profile, at the tiny muscle twitching in his cheek.
‘Does Cassius know I’m here?’ I asked carefully.
His face darkened. ‘No one knows you’re here, least of all Cassius.’
A million tiny doubts fireballed through my mind. Why did no one know I was here? He’d already drugged me. And he’d burned and gagged me rather than let me go in the forest. Why hadn’t he handed me over straight away? What did he want? It didn’t make any sense for an Insider of his rank to risk hiding me, which had to mean only one thing.
I eyed him with cold suspicion as a sudden burst of noise from the wall ended our conversation, and an image sharpened into focus before melting away again. It was an image of the outside city, as nothing more than a barren, grey wasteland. More images followed of cities and towns devastated and deserted by the Great War.
I’d seen such images before in a small collection of photographs Grandpa held in Arafel’s library. They were in a slim file labelled simply ‘2025’, a file both Eli and I avoided at all costs. The photographs were raw and unforgettable but every annual Council meeting Grandpa took them into the Ring. He said it was critical to remember how devastating mankind could be, and that none of us should ever forget the cost to life.
But now, there was no cornflower sky or leafy green treehouses to offset these images. There was nothing but grey lifeless dirt, the rubble of buildings that once stood, and blackened human bones.
As the last photographs played out to evocative music, the head and shoulders of a young woman took their place. She was standing against a backdrop of a brown, barren land that extended as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t a view I recognized. She was blonde, with a pale waxen face and perfect white teeth. Her face was smiling, and she looked no older than thirty, but her smile was fixed and there was a narrowing around her jade-green eyes that made my bones feel brittle.
‘Good evening, Isca Pantheon, I bring you a fresh update on the thirteen-thirty news bulletin. The infiltrator responsible for the violent medical unit attack has been identified as a Prolet rebel. The infiltrator is still at large, and is suspected to be highly dangerous and armed. I ask that you study the following footage very carefully.’
I stared in confused relief at a moving image of Max jumping across the felled logs filled the screen. It was like watching a moment in time all over again, as his athletic form leapt, dodged, and swung gracefully from truck to Sweeper and back again, grazing the floor periodically. Finally, he dropped off the end of a long lorry piled high with large rounded barrels, and sprinted for one of the exits. He disappeared into the darkness with an entire squadron of tall guards on his tail, and I fought to control the small painful lump that suddenly appeared in my throat.
I’d never worried about Max in my whole life. His prodigious athleticism and easy humour made him one of the most popular, unrivalled tree-runners in Arafel. But even he was no match against the full might of Pantheon. And I couldn’t imagine a world without Max in it, he’d always just been there with his teasing grin and forest eyes.
The picture went blank and Octavia’s waxen face was back.
‘Do not, I repeat, do not approach the Prolet rebel on your own. Pantheon’s security team is conducting an exhaustive search of all units, and they will expect full cooperation.
‘We must identify the infiltrator’s location before any possible contamination takes place. I will bring you news of his detention as soon as possible.’
I spun back to face him with worry clawing up my throat. ‘Prolet rebel? Highly dangerous? If being jabbed with a couple of your own needles is highly dangerous, what do you call being ripped to shreds by those rattling primates of yours! And contamination! Just what do you think you’re going to catch from us?! At least we still build our own immune system. Maybe if you didn’t live as such a vast, cooped-up, homogenized group you wouldn’t have completely forgotten how to build basic antibodies!’
The muscle beside the Insider’s mouth dipped and quivered as he regarded me. My fury had hit fever pitch, and I looked around wildly for something to throw.
‘Whoa, little feral cat, slow down,’ he protested, his eyes gleaming. ‘Look … just … hear me out OK?’ he asked, before turning and walking through the open doorway into his bedroom.
I bristled suspiciously as my gaze tracked his path around the bed, and towards a straight white seat fixed between two of the units. When it became obvious he wasn’t moving I followed reluctantly, and perched as far away as I could.
He assessed me warily. ‘Octavia thinks it was your boyfriend who sedated the nurses in the medical hut – that’s a good thing. It means no one knows you’re here, and I have a chance of getting you out. I thought I’d made it clear in the forest, but by coming here you’ve signed up to a dangerous game you know nothing about. There are rules, which must be followed, otherwise you will put your neck, and the necks of everyone you love most, directly into Octavia’s noose.’
His tone was low, accusing, and I saw red. Why wouldn’t I try to rescue my family? Perhaps Max now too.
‘She said he was a Prolet rebel!’ I interrupted. ‘What the hell is that? And why all the old images of the War? The outside isn’t like that any more – you know it isn’t! And, for the record, Max is not my boyfriend!’
Silence hung in the air, and I was aw
are of little except the sound of uneven breathing. His eyes were guarded and uneasy; and my hostility burgeoned. I was learning nothing except what I’d rather forget. This new world, and everyone in it, was malignant.
Finally, he drew a breath of resignation. ‘That’ll be Octavia’s PR team at work. You have to understand you don’t exist, Talia, not in here. On the outside, human life as we know it was supposed to have been extinguished a long time ago. It’s a key part of Octavia’s mandate. If it were generally known that life had survived … no, flourished on the outside, Pantheon would see anarchy on a scale never dreamed of before. And one thing Octavia does not do, is anarchy.’
His voice was grim, and I recalled the trailer of terrified capuchins being dragged across the holding bay floor.
‘As for contamination … all Prolets, our workforce, are screened for infection. One of the key successes of the Programme is that we’ve eradicated many of the killer diseases here in Pantheon, but of course, all that could be undone by one rogue infection from their region.’
I drew a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around a world that didn’t know that life on the outside – that human beings – existed. I failed.
‘You’ve eradicated killer diseases in one part of your world, but let the other take its chances?’ I asked with contempt. ‘What kind of a twisted ideal is that? Your time’s up anyway. I’ve heard more than enough. Where are my grandfather and brother? I’m leaving now.’
‘You still don’t get it do you?’ he asked, suddenly reaching to enclose my wrist in a swift action that sent my nerves haring. I looked down and noticed how tiny my wrist seemed in comparison to his strong, tapered fingers. And somewhere deep inside there was a flash of energy.
‘You can’t leave. At least not now.’
I rounded on him to cover my sudden discomfort, yanking my hand away. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t find your precious Octavia and stick a blade in her lying neck?’
The response was a short, rough laugh. ‘Try to do that, you little fool, and it will be the last you see of your family, and the last anyone sees of you!’ He stayed his ground, looking down at me. ‘Your grandfather is interesting, Talia. He is the last known protector of … information Octavia has been seeking for decades.’
The tattered cover of the Book of Arafel filled my mind, and I looked away. ‘You mean years.’
‘I mean decades. Octavia is far older than she looks. She was the Lead Scientist on the Lifedome Project back in the days of the Great War. She worked with Thomas Hanway, your great-great-grandfather.’
My eyes darted back to his incredulously. ‘She couldn’t? She’s what … thirty?’ I blurted.
‘Scientific meddling has its advantages too,’ he responded curtly. ‘There’s no chance Octavia will release your grandfather until, and unless, he releases the information she wants. Your brother is just further leverage, and after she gets what she wants, they will both be initiated into the Programme. Octavia never releases anyone. She believes freedom chained the old world to illusory ideals – that it created global conflict, and brought civilization to its knees.’
I stood up and retreated back across towards the kitchen, trying to fathom my next move. My head felt woolly with fear. I had to escape; that much was clear.
‘Just what information does Octavia think my grandfather has? He’s already told you he destroyed the Book.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Until she has proof that the Il Codice Mito is indeed destroyed, Octavia will never stop.’
‘Il Codice Mito?’ I repeated, arching an eyebrow while racking my memory.
‘The Myth Code,’ he translated, his eyes searching mine.
‘And you should know right? As one of Octavia’s Scientific Generals,’ I returned, layering each word with as much scorn as possible.
He looked away, and for a moment he almost looked ashamed. ‘Just because I work for the system, doesn’t mean I approve of it. Pantheon is no democracy, Talia. Dissension is a very serious offence, punishable with the heaviest penalty.’
‘Change hurts!’ I challenged, scanning the room covertly for a sign of the exit.
‘Yes …’ he hesitated ‘… and there’s a growing underground movement for change.’
I stared back at him suspiciously.
‘It’s one of my jobs, to listen to the whispers …’
‘And to relay them to Octavia?’ I threw back.
His bushy eyebrows forked in the middle. ‘But you’re different. You’re proof, dangerous proof,’ he muttered softly. ‘For decades Insiders have been told that the atmosphere can’t support life, that the atmosphere is unstable, food contaminated and oxygen levels too low. And yet here you are – the very definition of life … as though you’ve stepped right from Masaccio’s painting of Eden.’
‘You mean the expulsion of man from Eden?’ I corrected, recalling the thick art history volumes I’d devoured in my early teens.
He regarded me thoughtfully. ‘Correction. You’re impressive, dangerous proof that life is possible,’ he muttered.
‘Of course life is possible!’ I snapped, unsettled by his odd gaze. ‘You only have to walk through the forest to see that.’
‘That depends on whose eyes you see it through,’ he returned intently.
A heavy silence hung in the small, white room.
‘And Cassius, you’re different from him, right? The guy who strikes a defenceless, frail old man?’
It was his turn to frown. ‘Cassius and I share a long history,’ he answered. ‘Octavia entertains herself in unique ways, and we were commanded to meet in the arena a few years back. He lost and has never forgotten it. We never speak of it but it’s always there, between us.
‘Cassius and Octavia are the same, Talia. They are interested in only one thing: power. And they will remove anything and anyone in their path in order to get it.’
His voice was suddenly tired, and in that millisecond I had the briefest of windows into his world. It was a world of iron rules and retribution, where people were stamped and labelled like one of the animals I’d seen in the holding bay. I felt a brief stab of sympathy and then remembered – he was one of them.
‘Why did you stop me from rescuing Grandpa and Eli?’
‘You would have been caught, and right now you’d all be lying in the laboratory, your fates sealed.’
Suddenly I was drowning in fresh terror. They’d been transferred to some macabre laboratory where anything could happen, and I’d been sitting here talking and eating? Hot blood pounded in my ears.
‘Tell me where this laboratory is right now,’ I hissed.
‘No,’ he returned flatly. ‘We stand no chance of getting through unobserved. You’re going nowhere if you want to stay alive, and nothing will happen to them for a couple of days. I will help you, but you have to wait.’
There was a stony silence while I mentally assessed the chances of making it out of his unit and finding Max, Grandpa, and Eli in this vast, genetically warped and technologically advanced world alone. They were not encouraging.
‘If we wait, it doesn’t mean I trust you,’ I ground out.
‘Good, you shouldn’t.’ He nodded once, tapping the screen on his Identifier device.
I drummed my fingers against the white unit top, my head racing. ‘And, if we’re staying here for a bit, you’d better tell me what they call you.’
‘Commander General Augustus Aquila,’ he returned, a slight smile pinching the corner of his mouth, ‘but you can call me August.’
Chapter Seven
I was beginning to understand why Thomas had abandoned old digital timekeeping in Arafel. August said we had to wait until the luminous numbers in his bedroom ceiling ran through a whole cycle of twenty-four hours, and it stretched out before me like an eternity.
I slept badly, constantly waking to check the numbers, which turned achingly slowly. My dreams were full of Grandpa and Eli, and several times I woke up full of hope, only to lose them all o
ver again when I realized where I was.
August slept upright in a chair; but the following morning I awoke alone, and despite every effort to get past the security pad on the door, it flashed relentlessly. In the end, I resigned myself to waiting, and imagining all the quick and final ways to dispose of an Insider. Then, when the digits in the ceiling glowed 19.03, the white door opened.
‘I suggest you get some more rest while you can. The barbiturate I gave you takes a while to work out of your system.’
I was relieved, though I took care not to show it. If he’d left me alone all day in his sterile rooms to make a point, it was made. He was in control whether I liked it or not. At least for now. I flashed another look at the numbers. Time was passing and I could only clench my teeth and pray he was right about Grandpa and Eli.
For now at least, I needed to play his game. I pulled a face from my cross-legged position on the white desk. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in the bedroom other than the large circular bed.
‘In Arafel we work while the sun is up, eat when we’re hungry, and sleep when we’re tired.’
It was August’s turn to pull a face as he emptied his pockets onto one of the crisp white units, and started on his boots.
‘Sounds like an advert for Elysium! So, what about education? And how do you know so much about genetics … and art if it comes to that?’
I suppressed a smirk. So he’d been thinking about our conversations. Good.
‘My father was the village schoolteacher, as I am now, and my grandfather keeps the best library in the village. In Arafel, we attend school until we reach sixteen, and then we choose a skill that will contribute to village life. We need everything from builders to cooks, healers to teachers. Elders help to train the younger members so experience is passed on, and everyone is encouraged to find and follow their natural ability.’
He let out a low whistle. He’d finished with his boots and was now shrugging out of his coat.
‘So do you all live in perfect harmony? No disagreements? No power struggles? No system for justice required? Who governs?’
Book of Fire Page 8
