Adaptive Consequences Read online

  ADAPTIVE CONSEQUENCES

  The first book in The Adaptive Series

  by

  LUCY L. AUSTIN

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  About the author

  Author’s note

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Adaptive Consequences

  Lucy L. Austin

  Cover: Vanessa Maynard

  First Edition published April 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Lucy L. Austin

  EPUB Edition

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  CHAPTER 1

  2nd May 2062

  My whole life, it’s tormented me, Dr Xie, and I need to know. Why did my mother kill herself?

  Jun forced herself to reread the sentence. It had been a long time since anyone had called her Dr Xie, and even longer since she’d been answerable to anyone. What was the woman looking for, absolution? Guilt was Jun’s second-worst feeling.

  The late afternoon sunshine seared through the bleached Venetian blinds and made a stockade silhouette on the wall. Jun drained the last of her tea and discarded its cup in the sink. Its porcelain made a shrill clatter in disapproval. The inside of Jun’s home was her sanctuary, with the relieving cool caresses from the air conditioner, and the quiet moments of solitude. The undemanding silence was her companion in the morning before lectures, and her afternoon conspirator as she graded assignments and reviewed her study plans. But today the silence made her anxious, and the chilled air rattled her bones.

  Her eyes drew back to the Interface and the shrift mail. That part of her life seemed a false memory, like shadows without substance. Looking back, the suicide had been the pivot that defined her life; she’d never worked in research again. Jun’s finger hovered over the screen, threatening the recycling bin icon, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to erase the mail. She relinquished the Interface down on the counter, relishing the snap sound it made as it hit the resin work surface. The past had already spent its allowance of her time, she wouldn’t give it any more credit. Wastefulness was her fourth-worst feeling.

  Wastefulness generally wasn’t tolerated. Everything these days was versa-purposeful and adaptable by design. Her gaze drifted outside to their street. White identikit houses lined up like pills, deflecting the sun’s heat, but conserving its energy. Algae-festooned walk-lights stood tall and arched like soldiers’ arms saluting photosynthetic victories; access roads panelled with radiavoltaics, harnessed energy from the sun. Things with one-dimensional functionality were redundant, dismissed by a world that needed to be smarter and sustainable. No, one-dimensional things weren’t dismissed, Jun imagined a synthesised United Adaptive-voice correcting her, they were evolutionally retired.

  Telestream on, she consciously commanded. There would be something on here to distract her. The largest wall in the kitchen illuminated with eighteen screens of documentaries, news, and entertainment shows. She decided on the news. The neuronal chip nestled above her cranium connected with the Stream and, thanks to the silent impulse of her conscious request, switched to the broadcast. A report flashed up on the screen.

  Missing girl the sole survivor in family ‘mini-massacre’.

  A holographic anchorwoman appeared in front of her. She was a mirror-image of Jun herself when she was younger, with dark, straight hair to just below her jawline, and mahogany eyes set in a supple skin. Jun smeared a hand over her own thinning face and smoothed out a soft ripple. The report began, and she immediately regretted her decision.

  ‘Authorities are on the lookout for the sole survivor, witness and suspect in the murder of a Russo-Chin Province family late yesterday evening. Police were called to a home in the Ulan CMCD at 11.30pm last night, to find the dead bodies of Aaden, and his wife, Hani Chirchir with gunshot wounds to the head. The couple’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Kodi, raised the alarm, claiming to have escaped a home invasion. No possible motives have been released as yet, but reports suggest that Kodi Chirchir has become a key person of interest. Fleeing the scene after questioning by the family bereavement unit, security logs indicate that she switched off the family’s home computer, allowing two unidentified men to break in and murder…’

  Jun consciously commanded the Stream to shut down. She didn’t want to hear any more. One bereaved daughter was quite enough for an afternoon; they were following her like shadows. A chill reverberated through her body at the thought of Kau in that girl’s position. Twenty-four and her only child, Kau was impulsive. He made important decisions as blithely as drawing air, seemingly without reason or concern. Jun never had that luxury. As a schoolchild, her still-growing shoulders had felt the responsibility of the world collapsing on them. Trying to mitigate against the widening mouth of the Yangtze or the smog clouds in Beijing, that despite the masks, stung her throat and eyes. Jun was glad that their mountainous atmosphere offered very little threat in that regard. Her eyes drew to the forest in the distance, where somewhere amongst the trees and peaks lay the United Adaptive headquarters, the bases spread like bear pits protecting the jewel in their crown, Lake Baikal.

  Fan’s Intuimoto came into view and punctured her thoughts; its transparent, bullet-like chassis darted up the access road to their home. He was early. He wouldn’t typically be back for another hour at least. There were two bodies in the car instead of the usual one. Kau was with him. Her stomach lurched. They should both still be at work; something must have happened.

  Kau’s car door swirled open; Fan’s followed, prompting Jun to stand up and smooth out the creases in her white linen house-dress, annoyed she hadn’t thought to press it earlier. The house computer chimed and recited its pre-programmed greeting as the door opened. Jun stifled an eye-roll, even after all these years it still grated.

  ‘Welcome home Mr Li and Mr Li junior. It’s great to have you back. The time is 16.49pm, and the temperature outside is 43°C. It is a temperate 15°C in the house. There are no scheduled plans for this evening.’

  Jun heard the house door shut behind them and Kau talking to Fan, casual and light. The upward inflexion and steady rhythm of his voice rippled a warmth across her chest; he sounded well.

  ‘Kau,’ she said, walking into the hallway to greet them both. He looked like he’d put on
a little weight and his face was less defined. She wrapped her arms around him and breathed him in slowly. His torso felt bigger, softer; her arms didn’t fit around him like they usually did. She brought her hands to either side of his mouth and thumbed his cheekbones. He probably hadn’t been exercising, even though it was United Adaptive, UA, policy to take at least one hour per day. He was a powerful swimmer and had won a scholarship at Oxford University in the North Euro Province. She still had his trophies, though Fan insisted they be moved from the sitting room to his bedroom when he left home for his studies. It had felt like she was packing his childhood away. She found herself keeping his most prized trophy pride of place amongst the family photographs – their Pix – a flourish of her pride.

  ‘Bǎobèi, how are you? You’re looking well, who’s been feeding you?’ she said, ruffling her hand through his hair, which had grown too unruly around his face.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, patting her hand away, and then kissed it. ‘No one’s been feeding me either – you do like to needle, don’t you? I’ve just not been able to swim as much as I’d like, but nothing to worry about. Let’s go inside, and we can talk about it properly.’ Kau walked through into the kitchen, and Jun heard cupboard doors open and glasses making a clink on the work surface.

  ‘Is he okay?’ she said to Fan, softly enough so Kau couldn’t hear.

  Fan nodded; his starched collar remained taut. Even after the blazing sun they’d endured today, Fan’s diligence was unflappable. He kissed her cheek and guided her through into the kitchen.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting both of you, and so early,’ Jun said. Their Ai-ssistant, Qin, appeared at Jun’s conscious command; Jun’s chip and Qin’s software connected quicker than a heartbeat. Despite Fan’s irritation, Jun had insisted on naming Them. She had always named their Ai-ssistants when she had worked in labs. Admittedly, that was a long time ago and it was largely frowned upon these days, but Jun considered it only respectful. ‘I haven’t thought about supper yet, what would you like darling?’ she said, mentally going through Kau’s favourite dishes. ‘What about braised eggplant?’ Qin had pre-prepared some earlier that week. ‘We can have Manchow soup to start?’

  Kau nodded gratefully.

  ‘I would suggest Egg Drop soup,’ Fan said scrolling through his phone, for work no doubt, before his gaze fell back on Jun.

  Jun blinked at Qin as she gave her a conscious command. Egg Drop soup it was.

  As the eggplant warmed in the oven and Qin began to set the table in the dining room, Kau fidgeted with his hands in that way he did before he had something important to say.

  ‘I have something to tell you. A good something. I have a new job. I didn’t want to mention it until it was all agreed, and then I’ve not come up for air in the past couple of weeks, but it’s exciting. I’m doing work of substance.’

  ‘Oh!’ Jun pursed her lips and looked to Fan; his eyes didn’t meet hers. ‘That is a surprise…’ Kau had been working in the Migration, Integration and Inter-community Development team for the Province for the past two years. He’d done well for himself. There was plenty of work with the perpetual calendar of migrations.

  ‘I was headhunted by the UA. I’ve been working with them on…’ he stopped and licked his lips. ‘Special projects.’

  Warmth drained from Jun’s face, and her mouth turned stiff and dry.

  She looked at Fan; his eyes had a steeliness that she’d come to depend on, two ball bearings that had the power to pierce at will or gravitate to stability. She wanted to ask him if he knew about Kau and the role, but of course, he’d known. Forty years working for the UA meant at the very least he’d sanctioned the decision; at worst, he’d instigated it. He should have talked it over with her, but then, he knew what she would have said. Even after all their years together, he still struggled to play as a team. Jun willed his face to reassure her, a nod in agreement or a weary smile, but he didn’t. ‘What do you think about this?’

  Fan shrugged. ‘If it’s what he wants to do…’

  ‘Do you think he knows what he wants?’

  Kau groaned. ‘Why are you talking about me like I’m not here?’

  Jun touched his shoulder in acknowledgement. He was young, and there was so much he still had to learn, but he insisted on throwing himself in both feet first, regardless. It was so typical of Kau to make a big decision without thinking it through. Once you were in the UA, it was hard to navigate your way out; her internal compass had never recovered.

  ‘Are you still helping with the migrations in the Governance department?’ That work suited him, playing to his strengths of creating order and structure, along with his capacity for warmth and compassion. Kau was sensitive and had emotional depth, traits Fan didn’t appreciate in his son. It made her feel so much closer to him; their relationship that little bit more special.

  Kau’s eyes shifted from Fan to Jun, then back again. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s restricted information.’

  Restricted information. Words Jun had heard so often from Fan. Words she’d said herself enough times too over the years at the lab. From Kau’s optimistic lips, they were alien. She studied his face to see if he was holding back a smile. She’d seen smirks from others often enough when they’d uttered those words; a silent exultation of power. Jun’s fingers turned the string of her apron around her index finger until the skin pulsed. She saw Fan’s eyes following her fingers but didn’t stop.

  ‘This project is revolutionary. The UA is building a specialised team and need someone with my experience. It’s a great opportunity.’

  Fan sidestepped to Jun and tugged at her fingers; the apron string fell limp.

  She raised her voice, something she seldom did. ‘Kau, have you thought this through? Your father,’ she looked at Fan and began again more softly, ‘I’m sure will agree, was always at work. Even now he’s forever working. They expect, no demand, your full attention and loyalty.’

  ‘You don’t trust me to make my own decisions?’

  Kau’s forehead creased and Jun felt his displeasure, finding herself in the shade when she’d been basking in the sun.

  Fan sloped from Jun’s side to stand next to Kau’s.

  Jun shook her head. ‘You don’t have to accept just because they’ve made you an offer. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.’ And she had made mistakes. One had been allowing her mother to convince her that joining the UA lab would be good for her career. Another had been letting her father’s constant sniping wear her down – the UA didn’t expect ‘no’ for an answer. She had preferred it at the hospital; working with the intimacy of the problems, and the immediacy of her solution.

  Kau looked at his father as though he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. ‘I guess you won’t be coming to the welcome dinner they’re throwing me?

  Jun’s heart tugged. Qin came back into the kitchen and began to pull out ingredients for their meal.

  Kau looked at Jun as though there was something he wanted to say, but clearly thought better of it, and instead turned on his heel and stormed out the kitchen. Jun tried to call after him, ask Kau to not be angry with her…but it seemed he’d taken her resolve with him as he walked away.

  In the doorway opposite her, Fan stood and waited until finally, they heard Kau’s old bedroom door close. That sound usually filled her with reassurance.

  ‘Egg drop soup, right?’ Jun said as Qin placed a pan on the hob. It glowed to life.

  ‘You were out of line,’ Fan said, his voice quiet, that flash of gunmetal in his eyes.

  Jun looked at Qin and consciously dismissed Them away. She didn’t like Them being privy to certain conversations; it made her feel exposed in a way that never bothered Fan.

  ‘No, I was out of the loop,’ she gave Fan a brief smile before pouring the broth into the pan, enjoying the satisfying spit and hiss as the silky spindles bubbled with the heat.

  ‘What would it look like if we didn’t go?’

  She s
tirred the broth, slow and steady. Fan was right, of course, they would have to go. She felt his hands around her shoulders, and his lips lightly dust her cheek.

  ‘I’ll look after him. I’ve always looked after you both,’ he said quietly.

  He had. He’d always been by Jun’s side, steering her steadily, and she needed him to do it again. The weight of Fan’s hands on her shoulders made stirring hard work, their unspoken words mixed and churned with the broth.

  ‘Remember the subject that took her own life? Before we got married and fell pregnant with Kau?’ She turned her back to the pan and faced him, curling the apron tie around her finger again, slowly and beneath his gaze.

  Fan’s eyes flickered with recognition.

  ‘Her daughter got in touch with me today.’

  Fan reached beyond her to stir the broth. ‘Saying what?’

  ‘She’s in a bad way – wants to know why her mother killed herself. I’ll be damned if I know; it was twenty-five years ago. Why would she want to bring it up now?’ Jun pulled the tie tighter against her finger.

  ‘Can I read it?’

  Jun handed him her tablet, and he scanned the mail. His eyes briefly met hers before he re-read it. The broth murmured, blowing fat bubbles behind her.

  ‘What was her name?’

  ‘The subject? Odgerel Zaye.’

  ‘Can you help the daughter, this…Solo?’

  ‘I could tell her why we observed her mother and her capabilities, but not much beyond that. It was so long ago…’ The broth simmered, popping and frothing angrily behind them.

  ‘I don’t think any good can come of it. For either of you. I don’t think you should contact Solo.’ His arms found their way around her and squeezed, the way he always did when he’d given her the answer she’d been looking for. ‘It’s for the best, my love.’

  She let out a sigh and uncoiled the string from around her finger; the skin tingled as the blood circulated again. ‘You’re right. That’s all I needed to hear.’

  * * *

  5th May 2062