by Eliza Green
He thought about doing the same; the level of noxious gases and carbon dioxide had increased over the last few months. He’d heard the current gel masks couldn’t adapt fast enough to cope with the changes in the atmosphere.
Not only were masks failing, but air temperatures had also dipped. According to the documents Laura sorted daily, migration from one country to another topped the World Government’s current list of concerns. The extra bodies in a new location placed demands on an already low supply of food, water and permanent shelter. With only four hundred million transferred to Exilon 5, the numbers weren’t enough to relieve the conditions on Earth.
Another message scrolled across the screen: ‘Please refrain from making unnecessary journeys. The World Government wishes for you to be safe.’
Bill smiled at the fake message of concern.
The Maglev train was only half full, possibly because of the worsening air conditions. The more preventive measures the World Government put in place, the faster the atmosphere appeared to degrade. They couldn’t keep pace with the changes.
Or wouldn’t.
An obelisk-shaped hunk of metal on wheels entered the carriage. Bill sat up straight as it made its way down the aisle. He rooted in his pockets for his ticket and pulled it out, along with the black stone Stephen had given him.
The stone rolled along the floor, making a clunking sound when it hit the ticketbot.
Bill held his breath as the machine retrieved the stone with a set of metallic pincers.
‘Is this yours, sir?’ it said, holding up the stone.
He released his breath. ‘Uh, yeah, thanks.’ He reached for it, but the machine held on tight. Its single eye emitted a red beam that scanned the stone.
‘My scanners do not recognise its composition. What is it?’ The pincers rotated clockwise, then anticlockwise.
Bill opted for the truth. ‘It’s a memento from Exilon 5.’
A few passengers turned round at the mention of the new planet.
The ticketbot handed the stone back. ‘I will never compute a human’s attachment to trivial things.’
Bill flashed a smile and shoved the ordinary looking stone into his bag. The other passengers lost interest. The ticketbot scanned his ticket and identity chip. Warmth spread through his thumb.
‘Thank you, sir.’ The machine moved on to the next passenger.
Bill relaxed only when the ticketbot left his carriage.
He tuned in to the promotional video on Exilon 5 that played on a loop on the screen: large neighbourhoods, dads playing catch with their sons, mothers picking flowers with their daughters. Bill was immune to the propaganda playing on public transport, Light Boxes, in the corridors of power, and in apartment lobbies. It was easy for the government to sell their idealistic vision to a group of people who hadn’t experienced the problems of the new planet first hand. The traits of the ‘old’ world—of Earth—were becoming more evident on Exilon 5: city junkies, litter control, and social detachment in favour of addictive technology.
What would happen to the cities on Earth when the population finally transferred? Would the government try to salvage anything here? His back channels had reported a rise in deaths across the world. People as young as eighty were dying; eighty was barely middle-aged in a medically-advanced society.
Then there was Anton’s capture that was being kept so quiet, it was like it hadn’t happened. Never mind the transfer programme and its selection process that had recently changed from lottery to genetic selection. It was another change he hadn’t seen coming. The investigator in him told him to be vigilant, but about what?
With interest in him low, Bill pulled the black communication stone out of his bag. He weighed the object with smooth rounded edges in his hand. It looked and felt ordinary, but Stephen had said the real power lay beneath its matt exterior. The stone might work over distance but only if Stephen activated a similar one on Exilon 5—the natural properties of the gamma rock could amplify the range over distance, apparently. First Stephen would need to modify one of the units in the tranquillity caves in District Three. If Bill ever returned to Exilon 5, the gamma rock should detect the communication stone and guide him to the nearest district. The problem, Stephen explained, was distance. They’d never tried the stones between planets before.
Bill accepted that Stephen—meaning the Indigenes—was not his enemy. Isla had even mentioned an Indigene contact in her letters. Would he or she know of her whereabouts? Would Stephen know this contact? Most of the World Government documents Laura had shown him looked real enough, but Deighton was a master at spreading lies too.
The black stone remained as passive as the day Stephen had given it to him. Bill assumed the Indigenes had yet to make the modifications. He followed Stephen’s instructions to keep the stone’s real power a secret. Its discovery could ignite a new interest in the land and the tunnels where the Indigenes lived.
With a sigh, he tossed the lifeless stone back into his bag, doubting its abilities the longer it remained inert.
The Maglev train pulled into Inverness, Scotland an hour and fifteen minutes later. Bill turned up the collar on his heavy coat, affixed his gel mask and slung his bag over his shoulder. He hid his face beneath his baseball cap and exited the station to the nearest hotel. There, he rented a room for two hours under a false identity.
☼
It was almost midday when Bill sat on the bed, DPad in hand. He had connected two separate communication devices to the back of the unit. By alternating between them, he hoped to mask his and Laura’s signatures and locations during the call. While they’d limited their contact initially, Laura had risked more contact in the last week. She’d said it was because Gilchrist had lost interest in her.
Bill reduced the tint on the hotel room’s window and idly played with the stone while he waited. When the time hit 12:00, he activated the link using the DPad.
‘Hello?’ said Laura, from a darkened room. The light of the DPad illuminated her pale, but pretty face. Her purple uniform identified her Level Five status at the ESC. She wore her hair down rather than tied up in its usual ponytail—a look Bill preferred.
‘We need to meet,’ he said flatly.
‘Well hello to you too—and my mother’s fine, by the way. Recovered fully from her fall.’
‘Sorry.’ After their initial meeting, Bill had tried to soften his gruff personality around her. But old habits were hard to break.
She waved her hand. ‘Never mind apologies. You’re not good at them. When do you want to meet?’
‘As soon as possible. The stone’s still inactive.’ Bill held it up to the screen.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘I’m not prepared to sit around and wait for this thing to light up like a Christmas tree. Have you found out where Anton is?’
‘No,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve checked all avenues. They’ve erased all reports about his capture. Either that or they never recorded it.’
‘I haven’t been able to find anything out either. It feels like we’re being sent on a wild goose chase, while the real plan is being formulated. I think we should shift our focus. Isla’s letters indicated serious trouble ahead for the Indigenes. We have to take her at her word. We’ve done all we can here. Our priority now is to warn the Indigenes about the World Government’s interest in their second generation and hope that Anton lives to tell the tale.’
‘I hate the idea of giving up looking for Anton, but I agree. What are you suggesting?’
‘We need to go to Exilon 5.’ He’d come to this conclusion on the train; the World Government was confining him to the United Kingdom for a reason—to keep him away from the truth.
‘Are you serious?’ Laura let out a little screech, surprising Bill enough that he dropped the stone. He picked it up and looked back at the screen to see a grinning Laura.
‘I take it this is a good suggestion?’
‘Do you know how long I’ve waited to go to Exilon 5?’
/> ‘I’m guessing longer than we’ve known each other. But don’t get your hopes up. It’s only a suggestion. I don’t know if we can get off the planet without detection.’
Laura leaned forward; her face filled the screen. ‘At some point we have to take a leap of faith. If you take me to the new planet, I will do anything you ask. Anything.’
Bill’s mouth twitched. ‘Anything?’
Laura flushed and leaned back. ‘Within reason, Bill. I have standards.’
‘Well, don’t get your hopes up. The new planet is far from perfect.’
‘I know.’ Laura lowered her voice. ‘But I need to see it—more than you can understand. I’m sick of this seasonal depression controlling every aspect of my life.’
‘Then I suggest we get moving soon. Things are far too quiet here. Trouble’s brewing. I can feel it.’ He stood up and paced the room with his DPad. ‘We might get more answers on Exilon 5.’
‘You know, they’ve begun to reroute all of booth sixteen’s files to another level.’
Bill stopped pacing and stared at Laura. ‘The woman who originally gave you the micro file?’
‘Yeah, I haven’t seen her since. It’s as if she simply disappeared.’ Laura looked away as if in deep thought. She looked back. ‘So when can we go?’
‘We need to discuss a few things first. Let’s meet up tomorrow, in person’—Bill noticed Laura’s enthusiasm drop away—‘What?’
‘How can I leave Earth without being noticed?’ She threw one hand up. ‘They scrutinised my whereabouts when my mother broke her back. They may not be as interested in me anymore, but a trip to another planet is bound to set off alarm bells. And what about you?’
He shrugged. ‘The ITF haven’t checked up on me much. They’re keeping me away from the office and Simon is giving me very little to do.’ Since Anton’s capture, Simon Shaw’s handful of calls plus the lack of attention on Laura seemed to confirm his theory: Deighton and Gilchrist had their hands full with the Indigene. ‘What about your mother? Couldn’t she take another tumble or something?’
Laura’s lips quirked up. ‘Are you suggesting that I injure my own mother to get out of work?’
‘Well, if you want to go that far...’ He shrugged. ‘Or you could lie.’
Laura paused, then shook her head. ‘They’d only check up on her. I’d be discovered in minutes. What other ideas have you got?’
‘Can’t you find someone to alter your request form? You must have some leverage in the ESC.’
A slow smile spread across Laura’s face. ‘That might actually work. But we still have the little problem of the ESC monitoring my whereabouts and the ITF yours.’
Bill had to agree. Just because the government’s interest in them appeared to have died down didn’t mean they weren’t still being watched. But Stephen had given Bill more than the communication stone.
‘Stephen gave me some replicated identity chips before he left,’ he said. ‘We could create doppelgängers of ourselves.’
Laura’s eyes widened. ‘What chips? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘No reason to. I didn’t think I’d get to use them,’ said Bill. ‘I expected us to find Anton and for Stephen to get in contact long before now. It wasn’t necessary for you to know.’
‘Not necessary, Bill?’ Laura’s voice rose. ‘I thought we’d reached an understanding, a flimsy one at best, that you’d keep me in the loop on everything. I can’t protect you if you play the lone crusader.’
Laura wasn’t the problem; he’d always struggled to trust others. ‘Sorry, force of habit. And I don’t need protecting. I don’t want you risking your life for me.’
‘Well, it’s about time you trusted me. And you have my protection even if you don’t want it.’ She huffed out a breath—and her anger. ‘What do we need to do with the chips?’
‘I know someone who should be able to help us deactivate our ID chips. Stephen said the replicated version would only work if our originals are inactive. But before we get into that, we’ll need a pilot to add our names to the Exilon 5 passenger ship’s manifest and actually take us to the ship—someone trustworthy who won’t ask questions.’
‘What about your contacts? Can’t you pull in more favours?’
‘No. I want to keep the details of this particular trip out of my circle of “friends”. Better we don’t leave a trail of people behind who can identify us.’
‘With the chips, can’t we just use one of the regular spacecrafts to take us there?’
Bill had considered that. ‘Too dangerous. It’s too likely one of the ground officers would recognise me. I travel a lot. If we’re already on the manifest, we only have to turn up for fast-track boarding to the spacecraft, no registration first at the transfer terminal. Once we’re on board, we’ll need to stay under the radar. It’s a big enough ship, so it shouldn’t be a problem.’
A frowning Laura nodded. ‘Leave the pilot search with me. I’ll see what I can find out. I know someone in the ESC who might help us locate someone with a red flag or a reason to be pissed off with the World Government.’
‘Fine. And lie to them about why you need the information. Call me as soon as you have an update.’
Bill disconnected the call and tossed the DPad and both communication devices into his bag. He removed a cloth and wiped the room clean of fingerprints. The next Maglev train back to London wasn’t for another thirty minutes. He made use of his time and called his contact in Russia to arrange the business with the identity chips.
9
‘And goodbye to you too,’ Laura muttered at the blank screen. She removed the communication device from the back of her DPad and hid both items behind a removable panel in the wall. She checked over the disused room on Level Two of the Earth Security Centre, making sure she’d disturbed nothing, and opened the door a crack. A roving camera patrolled the large open space at the far end of the corridor. She waited for it to disappear before she left.
At the start of the open space she waited. A distinct hum told her the camera was close by. When the hum reduced in volume, she darted across the open space and through a door opposite that led into the Energy Creation rooms. She found a free cubicle, undressed and changed into her exercise gear. Then she jumped on one treadmill.
Hooked up to the machine, she jogged along a wooded path and thought about the trip to Exilon 5. It had been her dream to travel there, but not under a false identity. Could she trust Bill’s judgement on this? He still believed his wife was out there, alive. For his sake, she hoped that was true. But his search for the truth had revealed how impulsive and impatient he could be.
Laura had asked Bill to trust her. That meant trusting him back.
A temporary trip to Exilon 5 was better than none. Laura was running out of ways to keep the Seasonal Affective Disorder at bay. These days, Actigen and her Vitamin D shots did little to take the edge off. But what would happen after she tasted sweet, unfiltered air and felt sunlight on her face? Would Bill have to drag her back to Earth, kicking and screaming?
She shook away her negative thoughts. Before they could go, Laura needed to sort two things out.
Her priority was to source a pilot to take them to the passenger ship. Ideally, the pilot should hold a grudge against the World Government, be familiar with protocols and know the right channels to access. No small task. They must also have their own spacecraft.
But a search like that from her workstation would raise too many red flags. A face popped into her head, a teenager she’d met recently: Callum Preston, the son of a Level Two employee and part of Daphne Gilchrist’s new training programme. She and Callum had bumped into each other; her coming out of the cafeteria, him wandering the halls of the second floor. Gilchrist had passed by just as the boy asked Laura for directions. Apart from a quick glance, the CEO hadn’t commented on the interaction. That’s when Laura knew Callum was someone special.
The teenager had offered his own theory.
‘I’m the top scorer
in her class. Advanced aptitude stuff. Not everyone can do it. Gilchrist thinks the sun shines out of my arse.’
He began playing a game on his DPad. Except it didn’t look like any game she’d seen.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s computer code for the sentient programs. I’m not supposed to learn it, but I see the program for what it is—a bunch of zeroes and ones.’
Callum continued to show an interest in Laura’s level-five status. She’d encouraged it, not knowing if or when she might need his help.
She finished up her exercise, redressed in her uniform and searched for the teenager. Finding him on the first floor in an area where the roving camera activity was light, she kept their conversation brief.
‘Do you know where the empty rooms on Level Two are?’ she said.
‘I think so. Corridor F?’
Laura nodded. ‘Meet me there in three hours. I’ve a little job for you I think you’ll like.’
Laura put in a few hours work before feigning a lack of energy to Brett, her overseer. These days, she was buzzing with too much nervous energy. Brett waved her off and Laura headed for the Energy Creation Room on Level Two for the second time that day. She changed into her running gear and slipped out the frosted-glass back door into the open area. From there, she ran to the corridor and the disused room from where she had called Bill. She froze when she saw Callum waiting for her outside.
‘You didn’t say which room,’ he said.
Laura searched for the roving cameras and pushed him through the door. She closed it and turned to face him. ‘Did anyone see you?’
Callum shook his head.
‘Please be more careful. We’re not supposed to be here.’ She huffed out her stress. ‘What access has the ESC given you for your training programme?’
‘Level One information. Very basic stuff. Not very interesting. But when they aren’t looking, I hack Level Two for something else to do.’
