by T. C. Edge
He stands there, to the side of the gate, looking decidedly bored with his lot in life. I keep my eyes on him as I move, watching him stare blankly out down the street, until a beeping sound blares and my eyes suddenly come shooting back down to earth.
I’m shocked to see that I’ve wandered right into the middle of the road and nearly been hit by a passing car. Inside, a rather grumpy looking man shakes his fist at me. I don’t need to be a lip-reader to know what he’s saying.
I step back onto the pavement and the car whirs on, passing down towards the heart of the western quarter. I make a mental note to only zoom with my eyes when I’m both stationary and not under the scrutiny of anyone who might see.
Had I done that under the watchful gaze of a City Guard or Con-Cop, they might just have put two and two together.
Shape up, Brie, I grunt, reprimanding myself internally.
I continue towards the gate without taking any further risks. When I reach it, I find the Brute bearing down on me. This one’s frankly gigantic, even bigger than the man who I met at the bachelor ball.
“Name and identification number,” his voice thunders.
“Erm, Brie Melrose. And I don’t have an I.D. number.”
He lifts up his trunk-like forearm and taps on an interface.
“Ah, yes, Miss Melrose. I was told to expect you. Come this way.”
He guides me to the door to the right of the gate and opens it up. I follow behind in his shadow, feeling like a tiny child next to him as he ducks through the opening.
I flash my wrist and check my watch. 7.03PM.
Not a good start. Savants don’t take kindly to poor time-keeping.
As we pass through the door, I step to the left to escape the Brute’s endless shadow.
“Here you go, Miss Melrose,” he says, pointing with a giant finger.
I follow it up the short road towards the Outer Spiral, where a car sits waiting for me. And outside it, dressed in his light grey suit, stands the rigid form of Adryan.
“Have a good evening,” remarks the Brute, before returning to his station.
I’ll say this about him and his kind: they’re always terribly polite. Every Brute I’ve met so far – which, admittedly, are only a few – have been rather well-mannered and docile. The similarities between the Brutes and Drum just keep on coming.
The man ahead of me, I suspect, won’t be quite as respectful. It probably won’t be intentional, more a side-effect of his emotional disability. Marching towards him, I expect a frank word on the lateness of my arrival.
I’m surprised to see that I don’t get it.
He moves forward with the smallest hint of a smile on his face. As before, his lips remain shut. Perhaps he hasn’t yet mastered the full, toothy smile yet.
“Good evening, Brie,” he says, stepping before me. He stops short, and bows his head as every Enhanced did at the bachelor ball.
I quickly recall Sophie’s lessons on ‘preparing for life in Inner Haven’. Like at the bachelor ball, all greetings between men and women in Inner Haven are conducted in this fashion.
So, I perform my own little bow in return.
He steps forwards a little closer, and his arms reach out to me. I can’t quite decide if he’s moving in for an uncomfortable hug, perhaps in an attempt to perform a more common greeting on the other side of the wall.
My arms open up and come forward too. I feel foolish when I realise he’s merely removing my jacket for me.
“There we go, much better,” he says, revealing my blue dress.
He turns suddenly to his car and begins moving away. I hurry to catch up as he opens up the door and puts my jacket inside.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, trying to sound casual but, inside, feeling far more nervous than I expected to be. “Is there some specific function to all this? We going to need to jump through a few hoops to, you know, make this official?”
My humour, or attempt at it, doesn’t go down well.
“Don’t speak like that around here, Brie.” He leans in. “Wait until we’re alone.”
And that’s the second time I’ve felt foolish in as many minutes.
Welcome back to Inner Haven…
He doesn’t speak again until we’ve climbed into his car and the door is sealed shut. Then he deigns to answer my question.
“There’s a general process we need to follow,” he says, turning to me in the backseat. “I have more leeway than others, though. If needs be, we might be able to expedite things.”
“And…the end goal is, what exactly?”
He frowns.
“Surely you’ve been told.”
“Well, not in so many words.”
“Hmmm. Well, to maximise your subterfuge here, we’ll need to marry.”
My insides shrink and dry out, like old rotten fruit. I was afraid he’d say that.
“You don’t look happy with the idea. I was told by Lady Orlando that you were committed to this mission?”
“I am, I guess. I mean, it’s all just happening very fast. And now, marriage? It’s a lot to get my head around.”
“Why? It’s a simple document. We merely need to sign a piece of paper for the records. Nothing else is required.”
“That’s what marriage is here?”
“Yes. What else is there?”
“Um, I dunno. A ceremony. A celebration. A party.”
“Of course, that’s how you do it in Outer Haven…”
“Yeah, that’s just the normal way to do it. Marriage is meant to be about love, you know,” I say sardonically. “That’s something people like to celebrate with the people they care about.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns.
I recoil. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.
“Like what?”
“Like you are. You think, because I’m a Savant, I don’t understand the concept of love.”
“Well, do you?”
His grey-blue eyes sharpen, glinting like the edge of a silver blade. They contrast so strikingly with his jet-black hair and creamy pale skin.
He falls silent for a moment, and then turns away.
“Our marriage will be nothing but a sham, Brie,” he says calmly. “It will merely allow you greater access to certain doors. It carries with it no other obligation than to let you carry out your mission.”
“The mission. Right. And, what is it exactly that I’m here to do?”
His eyes come back to me.
“They really haven’t told you, have they?”
“Told me what?”
His staring eyes bring my heart to life. I feel it drumming behind my chest, shouting out a warning.
And then his words come again.
“You’re here to kill Director Artemis Cromwell.”
41
For a good few seconds I stare into Adryan’s eyes, unblinking. Then, slowly, I turn down to look at my feet. His words take a few moments to sink in.
And once they have, I begin to laugh.
“I didn’t think you Savants had a sense of humour,” I say.
“We don’t, as a general rule.”
My eyes swing back to his, hoping to see some lightness in them.
“But you do? You’re joking, right?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.
“No. That is why you’re here. That’s what all of this is about.”
I enjoy a second bout of temporarily silence. Once more my feet become the focal point for my eyes. Then, in a sudden rush, I grab the door handle, open it up, and storm out of the car.
I set my eyes on the gate, fifty or so metres away. I’m so wired I might just try to test out my new Dasher powers, my muscles vibrating and humming and getting set to explode.
I hold back the urge and stick to mere marching, stamping my feet hard as I head for the exit. Back to Outer Haven. Back to the academy. Back to my old life.
I should never have come here. I should never have signed up for this.
<
br /> A voice comes at me as I go. I’m only about ten metres from the car.
“Brie, stop.”
I don’t. I carry on, quickening my pace just a little.
I hear Adryan scampering behind me, rushing to catch up. Thankfully, this close to the wall, there aren’t many people around. A few cars drifting around the Spiral. A few pedestrians walking in their formulaic manner along the streets. Perhaps people can see us from up in their apartments, watching this little scene play out.
I couldn’t care less. I’m out of here. Gone.
“Brie, please. Stop and listen to me.”
Adryan’s voice is closer now. Only a few metres away.
He appears at my side, jogging right up to me, and lays a hand on my shoulder. I imagine that he’s never had to run in his life. Such a thing, surely, would be unbecoming of such a man.
He twists me around to face him. His eyes are ice, grey-blue and frosty. Mine are fire, hazel and burning.
“Brie, come back to the car. We cannot create a scene,” he whispers.
“I can do whatever I want,” I counter. “I’m going back to where I belong.”
I turn to move off again. His strong hand maintains its grip.
“Let go, or you’ll lose it,” I growl.
“I can’t,” he says. “I’m in this too deep now. I won’t let you go, Brie. Please, let’s just talk. Your brother would want you to talk.”
I scoff at the suggestion, and shake his hand from my shoulder.
I don’t care. He must have known about this all along. Why didn’t he tell me?
Why, Zander? Why?
I half expect him to reply, somewhere deep in my mind. He doesn’t.
Instead, Adryan’s voice comes at me again, still calm and methodical but showing a hint of tension.
“Brie, think about this logically…”
I round on him.
“Oh, you Savants just LOVE your logic, don’t you!”
“And you love your absurd emotional outbursts. Seriously, what’s prompted this crazed display?”
“Are you the stupidest Savant alive?! You want me to…” I cut myself off, containing my voice and turning it to a harsh whisper. “You want me to kill the most powerful man in the city,” I bite.
“Lady Orlando wants it. The Nameless want it. Surely their combined wisdom is enough to make you at least hear me out?”
His words have some impact on me. I take a long, deep, breath, and un-ball my fists. My arms hang a little looser by my sides, my heart-rate easing back.
“Come to the car, Brie,” says Adryan again. “This way, come on.”
With his hand now dropping to the small of my back, he gently guides me back up the street. Turning now, I notice that our little display has garnered a few peering eyes.
I doubt they ever see such a thing around here.
The audience, however, helps to quell my ire further. As we reach the car, I turn my mouth back into a little smile just to keep up appearances. The watching eyes determine that the scene has concluded, and continue to go about their evenings.
I step into the car, and let the smile slip from my face.
As soon as the doors shut, Adryan issues a command. To the car, not me.
Right now, he wouldn’t dare.
“Inner Spiral, The Court House,” he says.
The car hums to life and immediately starts to glide off onto the pristine road, joining the Outer Spiral and turning left.
“Why are we going to a courthouse?” I ask, my eyes still hidden under heavy frowns.
“No, not a courthouse. The Court House,” he corrects me, as if I should understand the distinction.
I make it very clear through my blank expression that further explanation is required. He at least has some intuition, enough to pick up on my confusion.
“Ah, of course. A courthouse to you would be a place where crimes are disputed and suitable punishments given out. This is very different. It is a building used specifically for the process of courting.”
“The process of courting. You make it sound so romantic.”
“Romance has little to do with it. Marriages here are more like contracts. So, we should be just fine…”
Was that an attempt at humour?
“Um, well, you still seem to be assuming that our little mission is going ahead? I’m doing this as a courtesy, Adryan. After tonight, I won’t be coming back to Inner Haven…”
“And that is your choice,” he remarks casually. “You must do what’s best for you, after all. No one can force you to do anything.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
He nods and turns forward. My eyes drift to the side window, and begin staring out as we pass through the lifeless world of the Enhanced.
Between us, my jacket sits on the chair. I pull it up onto my lap, covering up my blue dress, and begin fiddling with the coarser fabric that I’m far more familiar with.
As I do, my fingers scrape against a hard edge, and I look down to see the worn border of white card poking out from an inner pocket. I take a grip and pull it out, opening it up.
For the millionth time, I stare at the faces of my parents. But now, my eyes spend more time with my mother, her face glowing with love as she looks at me, yet her eyes hiding the pain within.
I need to know who she was. I need to know what happened to her…to them both.
The thought causes a change in me. I let my anger fade and slip away to the back of my mind. I let my body relax and my mind open to hearing Adryan out. Because only here, in Inner Haven, will I find what I’m looking for.
For me, this isn’t only about the mission. It’s not only about doing what the Nameless want, joining their rebel forces. No. This is about my past too. And the only way I’m going to be able to find the truth is by playing along.
For now, at least.
My peripheral vision catches Adryan watching me, turning his eyes from the picture to my face and back again. It’s as if he’s studying me, trying to gauge my reaction.
“Who are they?” he asks.
I shut the card and put it back into my jacket pocket, sliding it in deep.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
I look away, but still keep him right at the edge of my vision. Still, he looks at me for a few moments, before turning his face back to the front of the vehicle.
We wind around the Spiral, turning down side streets occasionally where the roads flatten out and straighten; short cuts between the coils of the main road in the city. Soon enough, we’re plunging deep into the heartland of Inner Haven, it’s core, the High Tower, looming above us as it always does.
Joining the Inner Spiral, we circle to the north, where we begin moving down a side road that, like all the streets here, has little to differentiate it from the rest. The only noticeable change is the grandeur of the buildings, which rise up a little higher and stretch a little wider than those on the outer coils.
We slow half way down a street just off the Inner Spiral, and slip into an underground parking lot, the car moving to its assigned space. The place is fairly quiet, only a few vehicles scattered about.
“So, tell me about this place then,” I say as we climb out of the car and begin moving towards a lift.
Adryan hits a button and a light glows.
“As I told you, it’s used for the process of courting, and offers a private place for couples to get to know each other before determining whether they wish to take their relationship any further.”
“So, we can’t just, I don’t know, go to your apartment?”
The lift door pings and opens before us. Adryan steps inside and I follow. He hits the button for the top floor – floor 20 – and the lift swiftly begins to rise.
“No, that wouldn’t be allowed,” he answers. “Not until a couple have committed to each other are they allowed to officially live together. Mostly, they will be moved into a different accommodation. Single Enhanced and married Enhanced have different spatial req
uirements.”
“But what if you like where you live? Do you enjoy your apartment?”
It’s a silly question to ask of a man like him.
“My apartment suits my needs,” comes his unsurprising response. “All apartments are standardised based on occupancy and rank…”
“And you, being a Savant of some esteem, get a better space allowance?”
I can’t tell if my sarcasm is lost on him or not. Either way, he doesn’t react to it, but merely answers my question.
“Yes. It’s an indicator of rank, just like the colours we wear, and the insignia we have on our chests.”
“But not everyone wears the city insignia,” I say, peering at the space beneath his collar. “You’re not.”
“No, only city officials wear it.”
“So, you’re not a city official then? What do you do for work, exactly?”
The lift stops and the door slides open. He steps out and leads me along an uncomfortable chrome corridor, coloured in a similar fashion to his eyes.
“I operate as a researcher for the Institute of Human Relations,” he finally answers, reaching a door.
He plants his palm to a pad and it swiftly reads his prints and scans the distinct shape of his hand.
“The Institute of Human Relations? What exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” he says, stepping over the threshold and into the apartment, “that I help to understand the different types of Unenhanced, and Enhanced, in the city. And, in particular, I study ways to ensure that both parts of this city co-operate in the best way possible.”
I stop in the doorway, staring at him. He begins moving down the hall.
He studies us? Does that mean that…
“Answer me this,” I say, still rooted to the spot.
He turns, halfway down the corridor, and awaits my question.
“Are you a part of all this? Have you advised the Consortium that suppressing our emotions is the next step, the best way forward?”
His eyes remain flat, but there’s a slight twitch to them, a discomfort brewing behind his calm façade.
