Sequela

by Cleland Smith

  Kester nodded, hovering in the doorway.

  'And Kester – people we can trust.'

  'Yes,' Kester said.

  Alexis caught his eye and gave him an encouraging look.

  'I have people in mind,' he said. 'Ex-colleagues from the Institute. I know I can trust them.'

  'It would be good if we could get them,' Yule said. 'Will they come on board?'

  'Some of them, for the right price.'

  'Money is no object,' Chen said.

  'I'll need nanotechnologists, immunologists –'

  'The wine-thrower, Dee,' Alexis said. 'You worked on this together with her. Would she still want to be a part of it?'

  'I did – we scoped it out together…'

  'What does she look like?' Yule asked. 'Could she be a good face for this?'

  'She may not be as keen as the others.'

  'She's the one who thinks scientists should help people,' Alexis said. 'She wanted to build the screens too, didn't she – what's changed?' She watched Kester's reaction carefully. This wasn't the time for him to start doubting himself.

  'Yes. It's the big business thing. She really wasn't happy –'

  'You said you'd made up,' Alexis said. 'Just talk to her.'

  'We did make up, sort of.'

  Alexis stared at him, willing him to just agree. She knew his relationship with Dee was still shaky. Even Kester wasn't dumb enough to think that an afternoon of running around at the PlayPen would make right a betrayal, but it was a start; they were talking. As for persuading her to shift her moral stance, it would just be a matter of money.

  'Make up properly,' Chen said. 'Get on with it.'

  -o-

  Cherry tried to force herself to relax as Gerald primed the hypodermic gun. He loaded the virus capsule and then injected it into her arm. She glanced away, over her shoulder, as he did so. You'd think she would be used to it by now.

  Behind her, a long line of models stood waiting to be administered the control virus, all angled poses, hanging from their hips and shoulders like puppets.

  'That was all pretty painless, wasn't it?' Gerald said to her as she turned back to him.

  Cherry raised an eyebrow. What was he asking her?

  'What started the stampede?' she asked him. 'Do they know?'

  'Paper airplanes,' Gerald said. He winked at her and smiled. 'Paper airplanes with bomb threats written on them. Or that's the rumour. I don't think anyone has actually found any of them – trampled to pieces I imagine.'

  Cherry took a deep breath and let her shoulders drop. Perhaps this was it. She was out the other side.

  'Thanks, Gerald.'

  'Don't thank me.'

  'Am I allowed to go out now?' she asked him as he went to the door. 'I've got a few things to do.'

  'Yes, of course.' Gerald smiled at her, showing even more of his bleach-white teeth than usual. 'I've got a long line of models to get through, but if you fancy a drink afterwards, perhaps we could meet in the refectory and take it from there. Once you've run your errands.'

  'Why not,' Cherry said, a small spot of excitement springing up under her ribcage, spinning and enlarging as she held his eager stare. 'I'll see you there.'

  -o-

  Kester stood on the steps of the Institute. The light was on in Dee's lab. He walked up the steps and in the door. The security man greeted him with a forced smile.

  'Long time no see, Superstar,' he said. 'Looking for Dee?'

  'Yeah.'

  'Up in the lab, burning the late-afternoon oil.' He waved Kester past.

  'Thanks, mate. See you later.'

  The whole place seemed smaller than before. He had never noticed the appalling colour of the walls, the way it looked like a backstreet hospital. It was a toy lab. A joke. The Institute deserved better. Had deserved better. As he walked along, the walls seemed to distort, pulled out of shape by his nerves. The corridors toyed with new profiles – trapeziums, parallelograms. He felt a defensive disgust.

  The lift had been crushed to tin can size. He forgot for a moment to pull across the gate. It was listed, this lift. 1930s he remembered. It predated the floor reconfiguration; it served all of the floors and none of them. You got the lift and then had to take the stairs or ramp up half a floor or down half a floor to get where you were going. The lift was beautiful in its own way, but the fussiness of its interior, its self-conscious old-worldiness grated on Kester's nerves as he waited for it to lift him the mere four floors. He could feel each revolution of the pulley, its slightly distorted shape giving the lift an uneven rise. The lift pinged as he arrived. Kester pulled aside the door and hurried up the stairs and down the corridor.

  And he was there. And what now? Kester watched the back of Dee's head through the small window in the lab door. She was shuffling back and forth, picking things up, moving them around, stopping every now and again to press her hands to the bench and arch her shoulders in a tension-relieving move. He watched for a good five minutes, stuck. Just then, she turned to walk over to the sinks. Seeing his face at the window she stopped and stared. She continued over to the sink, washed her hands, then returned to her bench and sat down with her back to him. Her silhouette looked less sure now, shaken round the edges. She wasn't really doing anything. After a few minutes he opened the door and walked over to his old station on the bench that ran down the side of the room, perpendicular to hers. So small, he thought. He wondered how he had ever got any work done here.

  'Dee. You weren't answering your Book.'

  'No.'

  She looked up at him. Her face was blank, controlled, as if she hadn't yet decided how to act.

  'John said I'd find you here. Are you OK? I thought everything would be closed down.'

  'It is. They've done all their forensic work, taken everything they need. They graciously agreed we could come in to clear up after them – do all the waiting while our funders come and repossess our equipment.' Her anger slipped momentarily into upset. 'This fucking black dust…'

  Kester looked around the lab. It still looked cluttered, though now he saw that all the computing equipment and some of the larger lab machines were gone. Fine black dust made a pattern of fingerprints on well-used areas of the workbenches, doors and shelves.

  'I wanted to talk to you about a job,' Kester said eventually. If she was going to be like this he had best get to the point.

  'A job?' She swiveled on her stool and looked at him, eyes narrowing.

  'It's exciting,' Kester said with a silly grin. 'Do you think you could bring yourself to work with me again? I've spoken to John and he's on board.'

  'John? What, you mean a job at V?' she asked. She looked as if he'd offered her a jellied eel.

  'Yes, at V – why not?' He spoke quickly. He would try to get the whole explanation out before she could cut him down. 'I'm putting a new team together and I'm poaching people from the Institute. You wouldn't normally approve I know, but it's the screens. They want them now and I need a team to work on them. I know this is just your thing. You're the best. The screens are working but I need someone to run the in vivo immune system integration testing. You'd be perfect.'

  'I…' Dee stared at his shirt front.

  'I know what you're going to say, but Dee we'd really be helping people. This is what we used to talk about – I mean, I know it's different doing it for a big company, but at least we'd be doing it. And what with the shutdown…' He looked around at the benches again.

  Dee looked underwhelmed. She seemed tired, Kester thought, or something. He had done something wrong. It was his default belief when faced with behaviour he didn't get. And it normally turned out to be right.

  'Is this about…before…at the PlayPen? I'm sorry, I thought we were cool. You didn't –'

  'No,' she said.

  Well that was something.

  'You probably wouldn't even need to go through an interview if that's what you're worried about.' He tried another tack. 'I haven't discussed it with Alexis, but I'm sure we wouldn't
need to.'

  'Alexis?' Dee sneered as she said the name. 'I'd be working for her?'

  Kester could see her back arching, her shoulders rising as if her back would open up into a set of great black wings.

  'Sort of, but it's my lab and you'd have your own team.' He knew she would be hard to win over, but he hadn't imagined she would be this unmoved by the whole idea. 'Like I said, I've already spoken to John and he's on board. I don't know what you think about Betta and Sienna. Betta's perfect but I'm not so sure about Sienna – she could probably do a tech job but that's a bit of a downward step for her. I know the two of them are a bit of a package though. I don't want to step on any toes.'

  'Of course not.'

  Kester got up and put a hand on Dee's. Her hand jerked but she didn't remove it.

  'Just think about it will you? This will have your name on it too – co-creator.' What else did he need to say? There was something niggling him. 'And I'm sorry I started the research without you. I'm sorry about everything, really.' That was it.

  'OK,' she said, then took a long breath in through her nose and looked up at him. 'I'll think about it.' She got down from her stool and walked over to the sink to fill her water glass.

  Kester put his hands in his pockets and let his gaze fall to the floor. It alighted on Dee's recycling basket.

  'Um,' he said involuntarily, swallowing hard, 'I'll go then.' His throat was tight, his voice struggled to escape. He pulled his eyes away from the bin and walked to the door. 'I'll call you.'

  'Bye,' Dee said, without looking round.

  Kester's heart thundered in his ears as he walked away from the Institute. He moved in a straight line, ignoring everyone around him. In his head he climbed straight over cars, his feet leaving burning outlines on their paintwork, straight through traffic that never seemed to hit him.

  Dee. What had she done? He held the image in his mind: nestled in between the ripped-up paper and food packets of Dee's recycling basket, a small flattened cardboard box, an eye drop box, Mexodrol. She was out to destroy him – properly destroy him. And for what? Nothing. Nothing. A one night stand? Or because she thought he'd abandoned their 'dream' of making the screens together? He tried to think himself into her head but all that came was images: her pale face and black hair an ink blot on the pillow, her earnest expression in the café, her snarl as she threw wine at him, her figure leaving the PlayPen, doll-sized.

  Buildings flickered past him as he walked, his legs on automatic pilot taking him back to the City. The lights were coming on. Night spilled down between the buildings, finding the few slivers left to it. Each straight fall of darkness was her hair, each bright window her white staring face hating him as he walked. His heart was expanding, would crush his lungs, crush itself against his strained ribcage. The laughing faces in each bar were laughing at him, window displays of cruelty, his beautiful creations pressed up against scab-infested cheeks and breasts, faeries and goblins. It should rain. It should thunder. But the sky was clear, the moon riding above him like another version of her face, hollow and furious.

  He thought of Alexis. Was it all about her? Could it be? Could jealousy grow this malevolent? Was its stranglehold so cold, so unreasoning? Or had Dee been got to? He remembered her attitude to his taking the job at V. Was she against it enough to want to bring the company down? To bring him down? Kester's mind folded in and in on itself, a box of mirrors filled with two faces, Alexis and Dee, reflecting off one another, mixing in shards. He had to tell Alexis. He took his Book out of his pocket, his hand shaking.

  -o-

  Alexis exploded into Kester's office through the sliding door. He could see she was resisting the urge to smash it, was wishing it could be slammed.

  'Jesus Christ, Kester! You said you'd made up.'

  He flicked his walls to mist and then stepped behind his desk as if it might shield him.

  'I didn't know. I'm angry too, I'm furious she did this, that you were – but at least we know now – the Princess is the only other casualty.'

  'Fuck the Princess.' Alexis took a terrifying lunge towards him.

  'What's…you said it didn't matter. You didn't care about the virus.'

  'You slept with her.'

  Kester closed his eyes. His insides were already churning. But where was he? Who was this? He was back in Dee's flat, scrambling to find his pants.

  'You slept with her,' Alexis repeated.

  'You slept with…everyone.' Kester cursed his brain for not stopping his mouth. 'And what do you care? I told you we'd made up.'

  'Made up, made out, fucked – it's all the same to you now, when it suits you. So why hide it from me?'

  'Hide it from you? Right, Alexis,' Kester stepped out from behind his desk and went towards her. He had never seen her so angry. 'This is getting silly. I don't know what the problem is.'

  'Are you emotionally retarded?' Alexis asked, with a murderous laugh.

  'Please sit down,' Kester pulled out a chair.

  She grabbed the back of it and flipped it onto its side.

  'Do you remember how mad she was with you? How unspeakably angry. She was mad…she was mad because you fucked me – because you did it with me despite the fact that it meant nothing to you but a job. It meant nothing to you but a job, true? Remember how it was?'

  Kester nodded, backing away again.

  'You remember that? She was mad because with her she thought it meant something.'

  'It did.' Kester defended himself, thought he was defending himself.

  'Did it? Kester, you'd already chosen V over your screens. You'd already chosen me over her. And she only finds that out when she catches viral seconds and sees the night of her life implode into a one-night stand. You can't see what that might do to someone who doesn't even wear? And now? Does it mean something with her now?'

  'Look…' Kester closed his eyes again. Did it?

  'Well? Does it still mean something?'

  'You want to know how it is now?' He spoke slowly to buy himself more time.

  'Kester…' The rage was fading from Alexis' voice. She was starting to sound upset and it panicked him. He wanted to rush over and comfort her. No, he wanted her to turn hard again.

  'It's the same,' Kester said. Seeing her colour rise again, her eyes darkening, a storm on fast forward, he realised he had put it the wrong way. 'I mean the opposite – I mean it means something with you; it means nothing with her. I didn't know until afterwards. I'm not sure it ever did. I think I get it, I get it. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot.' Alexis stared at him, hands on hips. Suddenly he did get it, a tiny chink of light. Her face was hard again, reminding him of his interview. He wrinkled his brow, trying to push out the inappropriate memories. 'I don't know. What can I say? She's a crazy bitch – I love you.'

  Alexis turned away from him. Kester moved to his chair and sat tentatively, let her pace around, unwinding her rage. Shouldn't she rush to his arms? He cursed himself. He got it, that one little thing, but there was so much more he just couldn't get his head around.

  'She knows you know that it was her?' Alexis asked eventually.

  'No.'

  'You offered her a job?'

  'Yes. Well, I said there was a job for her if she wanted. Said interviews would be a formality.'

  'Interviews,' Alexis said with interest.

  Kester could still hear the shake in her voice, but her focus was turning from rage to revenge.

  'Yes.'

  'Would she come to an interview?'

  'I don't know.'

  'She would. It would be suspicious for her not to.'

  'Maybe…'

  'She tried to take you away from me.' Alexis still faced away from Kester, as if she didn't want him to witness her expressions. 'She tried to destroy everything I've created. She tried to destroy me.'

  Kester didn't respond.

  'She'll pay.' She turned. Her eyes were glistening. A shadow of a smile played around her blood-red lips.

  'And me?'

  'You
, Doctor Lowe…' She walked around his desk towards him and sat on the edge of it.

  'Me?' His voice barely filled his mouth.

  She put a hand up to his throat. He wished she would hit him, scream again, something.

  'You'll make amends.' She leaned forward and kissed him long with closed lips. 'It's just as well you're my favourite.'

  Kester stood and leaned towards Alexis. Anger flexed muscular under the surface of her skin, only just contained. He placed his head against her hard collar bone and slipped his arms around her waist. She didn't resist the contact. Any venom she felt towards him was overshadowed by her rage at Dee. He knew not to apologise again. He knew she would never break down, declare her love for him. This was it – her offering her forgiveness.

  'What do you need?' he asked, eventually, lifting his head.

  She looked at him for a long time, as if gauging his loyalty and his readiness. Then she looked up at his design board.

  'I need a virus.'

  Chapter 25

  Cherry left Dempsey's and headed straight down to the Thames. She climbed up the steps to the east Hungerford Footbridge and looked down the river. When she reached the old skyline plaque she stopped and swung her backpack down. She took out her new Book and searched for Lady's number. It was easy to find, the Hospital being such a large attraction. The minute it started ringing, Cherry felt closer, connected again.

  'Hello?'

  'Lady, it's Cherry.'

  There was a long silence.

  'Cherry. They told me you weren't coming back. I'd guessed it from the way things were going. Seems like you got them what they wanted. I'm surprised they didn't want to keep you in their pockets, but fair enough. I guess it's too risky to keep on trying the same tricks. They've stopped paying me of course, but don't worry, I extracted compensation when I found out you were staying. We saw you in the run-up to the show. Marlene and Tim bullied me into getting the big screen out in the runkroom. Looks like it's quite a change from the Hospital.'