The System

by Gemma Malley

  He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but Raffy played along anyway. ‘Must be hard,’ he said. ‘So you reckon Thomas might let me go to this Nantes place if he gets his System?’

  ‘I reckon he might,’ Milo nodded. ‘But are you going to be able to deliver it? That’s the question. I’m guessing that whatever your friend is producing isn’t going to amount to a crock of shit.’

  Raffy met his eyes. ‘I can do it,’ he said. ‘I know I can. But I want to go free afterwards. I want Thomas’s word.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Milo said, standing up. ‘And you’d better get back to work. No ogling girls when you’re meant to be building the System, mind.’

  Raffy nodded firmly. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said, a little twinkle in his eye. ‘Oh, and Milo, one other thing?’

  ‘What?’ Milo asked, frowning.

  Raffy looked at him cautiously. ‘It’s Benjamin,’ he said.

  ‘What about him?’ Milo asked, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘I’d like to spread his ashes. He meant everything to me. He was a good man, a great man. I know Linus and Evie would … well I know it would help. It would help wounds heal, if that makes sense?’

  Milo sighed heavily, then rolled his eyes. ‘It’s unlikely,’ he said, ‘but I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t get your hopes up.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Raffy. ‘But I really appreciate the effort. I really do.’

  ‘Good,’ said Milo, then he looked at his watch. ‘Right, got to go. Things to do, places to see.’

  He patted Raffy on the back, turned and left, his polished shoes tack tacking on the floor as he walked out of the apartment.

  Raffy watched him go, then turned back to Cassandra and started to type.

  Evie heard Milo leave, then she stood up and padded over to Raffy’s cubicle. She’d told herself not to, told herself it would achieve nothing, but she couldn’t help herself, wouldn’t either. She didn’t knock; she just opened the door and stood there silently until Raffy turned round, his eyes wide in surprise.

  ‘I’m saying this because of what we used to mean to each other,’ she said then, the words that she had rehearsed falling away, forgotten. ‘Because you used to be someone I cared about. Whatever that man is saying to you, you can’t listen to him. He’s like Thomas, Raffy. He’s evil. They all are. You can’t give them what they want. You just can’t.’

  She felt her bottom lip start to quiver and stopped talking.

  Raffy raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that it?’ he asked.

  Evie nodded.

  ‘Right,’ said Raffy. ‘So you want me not to help the one person who can help us get out of here, do you?’

  ‘He’ll never help us escape,’ Evie said incredulously. ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘I don’t mean he’ll help us escape. I mean we might get out of here. When Thomas has what he wants. Evie, there’s a world out there full of people I want to meet and places I want to go. In the City, in the Settlement, we thought the rest of the world didn’t exist. We thought we were it, fighting for survival. But we’re not. The world is amazing and I want to be part of it. Linus can’t see that because he’s too old, too entrenched, too bitter. But I’m not. You’re not. We’ve got our lives ahead of us. And people here live well. Better than we ever have. They’re happy, Evie. We could be too. Imagine that. Happy!’

  He shot her a smile that she didn’t return. ‘I don’t want anything to do with Thomas’s world,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t you get that? Don’t you see that he’s the one who blew up the Settlement, the reason Benjamin’s dead? He’s keeping us prisoner, Raffy. Why would you want anything to do with him?’

  ‘Because he’s all there is,’ Raffy said then, his tone suddenly cold and angry. ‘Because Linus and Benjamin failed. Thomas won. He was always going to win. And I’m not fighting Linus’s battles anymore. I want to live.’

  ‘Then you do what you want,’ Evie said, shaking her head in despair, in dread at what Raffy was going to do. ‘But know that I will hate you, Raffy. Know that I will delete from my mind every memory, every smile, every touch, every conversation we have ever had. Everything.’ She turned and left, allowing the door to close behind her.

  ‘You do that,’ she heard Raffy call after her. ‘You do that from your glass tower, while I’m out having a good time with Sara from Nantes.’ But she’d stopped listening; tears were cascading from her eyes as all her pent up rage and desperation flooded out of her. There was no hope anymore. Thomas was going to win. Benjamin had died in vain. And she was never going to see her beloved Lucas again.

  17

  Lucas looked around the room, breathing in, wondering if any of her breath remained here, whether there was something of her on this chair, on the keyboard that she used every day.

  Evie wasn’t here; she was long gone and he knew it. But of all the computers in the City that were connected to the System’s now-defunct mainframe, he still chose to use the one that she had worked at years before, changing labels, dreaming of something better. She had despised him back then; had believed the lies that he had told in order to protect himself and Raffy. But he didn’t care; that’s what he had fallen in love with, Evie’s strength, her defiance, her quiet confidence. Everyone else in the City had been seduced by his A label, his position of authority, the armour he had built for himself. But not Evie. She had seen only his cold, hard exterior and had shrunk from it. It was only when he had revealed the truth, revealed his ulterior motive, his pain, that she had looked at him differently. He had always loved Evie, but when he had seen her eyes change, seen her hatred dissolve into something warm, something intoxicating, his life had changed. He’d known right then that he would never be happy until he held her in his arms, until he lay with her on his bed, until he knew that the two of them would be together for eternity. And yet he’d known that it was impossible, that she loved Raffy, that there could never be anything between them, that he was destined to die alone, just as he had always been alone, confiding in no one, revealing himself to no one.

  He closed his eyes, remembering the night Evie had come to him in Linus’s cave, the night Raffy had betrayed them all, the night she had answered his prayers and told him that it was him that she loved, only him. He heard himself cry out, felt his fist slam down on the desk in front of him, Evie’s desk, because it wasn’t fair, because she had been wrenched from him again, because he hadn’t protected her, hadn’t been there when she needed him.

  Then he took a deep breath, calmed himself, forced his mind away. Martha had been right; self-indulgence had no place now. He had a City to defend, friends to track down and bring back, and as for Thomas … He felt his chest clench with anger and he breathed in slowly again. He would leave Thomas until last, but he would make sure that he suffered. For everything he had done.

  Outside the window Lucas could hear children laughing, playing, their parents chastising them gently as they talked freely. Things that should have been commonplace but which, until recently, would have been unheard of in the City. Where once people feared the judgements of the System, were afraid to speak their minds or reveal too much of themselves, now they were free to talk, to argue, to laugh. Mostly argue, Lucas had to concede; the end of the System had unleashed a million and one plans and ideas for how to organise the City, and passionate debates that sometimes spilled into fights were now commonplace. But Lucas would take disagreement any day over fear. And he’d upped the police guard presence on Saturday nights just to make sure that things didn’t get out of control.

  He turned back to the screen in front of him, feeling a surge of pride as he moved his fingers to the keyboard. The fact of the matter was that it was worth fighting for. The City was worth fighting for, just as it had been worth sacrificing everything for when he was a boy, taking on the responsibilities of his father, handing his own father in to the Brother to ensure that his integrity and loyalty would never be in doubt. Lucas had lost so much that day, but he had gained so much too,
including strength of mind and patience that he would utilise now, that would help him stay focused.

  He typed quickly, finding the connection that Linus had hidden so cleverly, that had taken him over a week to find, desperately searching his memory for everything his father had taught him about the System, about Linus, about how to cover your tracks. They had been comrades, his father and Linus; when the Brother had suspected him, he had sacrificed himself and handed the baton to Lucas. And now … now it was up to him. The connection was embedded in code, almost impossible to find, but Lucas had followed the path of the original connection, the secret messaging post that had enabled him to communicate with Linus all those years ago. Now he was connecting to a world so much bigger than he’d ever thought imaginable; a world that had been hidden from him, from everyone. Lucas could see nothing of this world, could only imagine what it might be like. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he made sure the rest of the world knew of the City’s existence, knew the truth about Thomas. What mattered was that he found Evie, wherever she was, brought her back and never, ever lost her again.

  18

  ‘You’re sure this is a good idea?’

  Thomas smiled. ‘Milo, we wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t a good idea. And if I remember correctly, it was your idea.’

  Milo pulled a face as he watched Linus, Evie and Raffy standing together, minders positioned around them. He blamed himself for even mentioning it to Thomas and had been baffled when Thomas had immediately agreed. But that was the thing with Thomas; you thought you knew him and … Well, you never did. Which was why they were on the roof of the building, a spot chosen by Thomas for the funeral Raffy had been so desperate for. Was funeral the right word? Milo didn’t know. Scattering of ashes. Linus was apparently going to say a few words. To be honest he didn’t really care; couldn’t be sure the ashes he’d given Raffy were even Benjamin’s. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he said. ‘It’s just, you know, being out in the open like this? These people are supposed to be a secret.’

  ‘On the roof,’ Thomas said. ‘Where there are no cameras. Where we are many, many stories higher than any other building, where no one can see us unless they decide to fly overhead in a helicopter, which they won’t because there is a no-fly zone. Why do you think we are up here?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Milo said immediately. ‘You know me, I’m too cautious sometimes. But with Frankie still missing … after everything that happened … I guess I’m just a bit paranoid.’

  After what had happened … After what hadn’t happened, more like. He folded his arms, tried not to think about it. But he couldn’t do it. It was meant to have been simple. Just like all the others. Chip removed, new identity, damage limitation exercise, all done and dusted within twenty-four hours. It was what happened to people who crossed the line, who threatened the status quo. Even Frankie. Even his girlfriend. Thomas had talked him through the plan in detail – how she would be de-chipped, left to wander the streets of Paris for a while, to watch the new Frankie on screen, to realise that she wasn’t as important as she’d thought, to learn a little humility. It was only meant to have lasted a day or two. But things hadn’t gone according to plan. Not at all. Frankie was meant to be licking her wounds, feeling aggrieved, but also realising the error of her ways. And instead she’d gone AWOL. And now the new Frankie had been ‘killed off’ because Thomas said it was too risky having her around, because people would start to notice it wasn’t the real Frankie. It all made sense when Thomas explained it; it was only when Milo was left on his own, trying to work it out, that nothing seemed to fit together anymore. Still. He’d find her. He’d find her eventually. And then everything would make sense again. Everything would be fine.

  Thomas nodded. ‘Paranoia is good, Milo. But I think I can safely say that there is no way off this roof except through the hatch, and there are guards positioned all around it. Our friends need some fresh air, need to remember what it feels like. I want them to miss it. I also want them to be grateful to me. Gratitude can be a very powerful thing, Milo. But most of all I want Linus to realise that he can’t stop me getting the System, that Raffy can build it if he won’t, that Raffy is on our side. I want them to see that there is no hope. Because when they see that, Linus will build the System.’

  ‘I thought Raffy could build it anyway,’ Milo frowned as he watched Raffy look up at the sky. He was an alright kid really. Bit weird, bit intense, but what did you expect? He’d had a pretty intense life in a pretty intense place.

  ‘Possibly. But he’s unproven. I want Linus’s work. He’s the reason all of this is here. Linus is the one, Milo. It was all his idea.’

  Milo considered this. He had never really spent much time with Linus; tried to avoid it whenever he could. The guy was seriously strange, with eyes that seemed to look right inside you. And the way he spoke made Milo feel stupid, like there was another layer he was missing, like Linus was playing with him, laughing at him behind his back. If it were up to him, they’d be scattering Linus’s ashes as well as Benjamin’s. And one day maybe it would be up to him. If he played his cards right. Thomas couldn’t live forever, after all.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘Shall we start?’

  Thomas nodded and walked towards the group; Milo followed a few steps behind.

  ‘So nice to see you all,’ he said. ‘Although I am saddened by the circumstances. Naturally you want to say goodbye to Benjamin. And naturally you will be reassured to know that we are in a very safe environment here. There is no way down from this roof except the way we came. So please don’t ruin this solemn occasion with any escape plans.’ He looked at Linus meaningfully; Linus smiled back, his expression opaque. Milo rolled his eyes in irritation.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, stepping forward. ‘Linus, you can say a few words, then you can all scatter the ashes. We have five minutes up here and then we’re going back to the apartment. So, Linus, would you like to begin?’

  Linus nodded, moved forwards, brushing past Evie as he reached to take the ashes from Raffy. He held them silently for a few seconds, gazing at them as though trying to work out what to say. Then he looked up.

  ‘Benjamin was a good man and a good friend,’ he said eventually. ‘He was wise, he was brave, he was clever. And he knew what it meant to have failed, to have been weak, found the wrong path. He did all those things, and his understanding of failure made him a perfect leader, made him the good person that we loved so much …’

  Milo cleared his throat then turned away. He had messages to read, messages to return; he didn’t intend to stand here listening to Linus, of all people, eulogising some freak from the UK who’d fried himself within minutes of arriving here. Particularly when he still hadn’t managed to track down Frankie, in spite of Paris having the best camera system in the world. How those imbeciles had let her go was, quite frankly, beyond Milo. Then again, they weren’t his men; Thomas had insisted on sending his own men to do the job, so Milo couldn’t even sack them for screwing up. But even so, she should have turned up by now. On some camera, somewhere.

  Instead, the last film they had of her was walking away from that little prick Jim who had already been questioned several times with considerable force and who had insisted that she’d said she was going to Madrid to track down her father. He said he had no idea how she got a new chip; how the chip she’d been given was subsequently found on a lorry heading south. And Milo didn’t believe him, not for a minute, but he had no proof. Nothing. All he could hope was that she’d contact Jim again, and that meant letting him go, making him think that he wasn’t under suspicion. And in the meantime, the messages Frankie had received about the UK couldn’t be traced either; they appeared to bounce around the globe then disappear into the ether, just like she had apparently done.

  Milo sighed in irritation. He missed her. He wanted her back, apologising for being such an idiot, telling him how she’d learnt her lesson. Not disappearing into thin air.

  If he ever found out who had sent h
er those bloody messages in the first place, he would personally wring their neck.

  Evie was looking at Linus but she didn’t hear a word he said. All she could hear was what he’d whispered to her a minute or so before. ‘You have to run, Evie. You have to jump. Level with the flag pole. When I say the word “pray”. Jump off the roof, Evie. Do it for Lucas.’

  It was as though he’d looked into the darkest pit in her mind, read the thoughts festering there and agreed with them. It was over. There was nothing to do but follow Benjamin’s path, make sure that Thomas didn’t win. She would never see Lucas again. She would never …

  She gulped, felt herself choking; she wanted to scream out, wanted to launch herself at Raffy, throw him off the roof because this was his fault, because time and again he had betrayed her, betrayed them all, made a fool of her because she had loved him once, because she had thought he was someone else.

  And because she couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. She had to live; she had to fight. She had to believe. She wouldn’t leave Lucas in this world on his own, waiting for her.

  ‘There are things that Benjamin understood. Things that he instilled in everyone who joined his Settlement. That the more we learn, the more we understand, and understanding is the key to peace, to fulfilment. Benjamin created a civilisation in which people co-operated freely, happily; in which the common good was everyone’s aim. He was a man of hope, a man who had created this paradise out of hell; who had seen the darker side of life, who knew how easy it was to allow temptation and greed to consume us. But Benjamin also knew his limitations, knew the limitations of man. He was no idealist; he pinned his flag to no ideology. In fact he feared ideology; feared the rabid belief in any one system because he knew that it led only one way: to factions, to hatred, to resentment, to war. That is why he took his own life. He did not want to be part of what we are now part of. He wanted neither to open himself up to temptation, nor to be a pawn or hostage that would prompt others to act against their better judgement. He had lived a free and happy life and he died freely, too.