Adaptive Consequences Page 6

  ‘You’ve never thought about it? I’m surprised Solo didn’t either.’

  ‘The idea of being partially responsible, let alone…it’s too much to bear.’ Jun shook her head.

  ‘That’s the terrible thing with guilt. Once it gets a hold, it never leaves you alone.’

  It was true. ‘And what does a girl of… how old are you?’

  ‘Sixteen.’

  ‘Sixteen, have to feel guilty about?’ Jun laughed.

  ‘My family died because of me.’

  The fragments slotted into place. She was the girl whose family died, the one who’d switched off the home-comp and ran away. ‘You poor…,’ Jun stopped. Probably the last thing she wanted was pity. ‘You’ve been living here?’

  ‘For the time being. It’s not my caravan. I came here to find someone, get answers to my questions, but no-one seems to have any.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I didn’t do what they said. I didn’t power down the home-comp. But that doesn’t matter, for now. What matters is taking the right next step. I just need to figure out what that is.’

  ‘You need to protect yourself – you need the Police to protect you…’

  ‘The Police,’ Kodi said and rolled her eyes. ‘They say what’s convenient for them.’

  ‘They have the resources and expertise to find who did this. Put them away.’

  ‘I have resources too… they’re just different.’

  Jun thought about Mikhail and his parents. His insistence that the Police were covering up for the UA. Yes, perhaps they weren’t always to be trusted.

  ‘You’re too young to be fighting these kinds of battles – do you even know who you’re fighting against? What if something happens to you?’

  ‘What’s the worst that can happen now? I’m not going to stick my head in the sand and pretend it never happened. I can’t. It would mean my parents died for nothing. This is my life, and I’m going to fight for it, whatever the consequences.’

  Jun looked at Kodi. There was little doubt that she had fight in her, but then the young often did. After today, Jun wasn’t sure if she had any fight left, and doubted whether she’d had any at all.

  ‘Some people are fighters and others, well…’ She looked out of the window to see if she could see Fan waiting for her in the car. People had started to walk around again, now the sun had shifted.

  ‘We don’t all have to be fighters, but we each have something that’s special to every one of us. Did you ever find out what makes you special?’ Kodi said.

  Jun was reminded of something Odgerel said and felt an ache in her chest. She looked at the girl; there was something about her. ‘I think I used up my special quota having my son.’

  Her mind clung to Kau, his enthusiasm for his new role, her preoccupation that he was making a big mistake. Despite her misgivings, despite the fact she had wanted to walk away when she first joined the UA, Kau might not. Perhaps they weren’t as similiar as she once thought. Fan had been with the UA longer than they had been a couple, and Kau was as much Fan’s son, as he was hers.

  ‘He’s lucky to have you,’ Kodi sighed. ‘What would you do in my position?’

  Jun felt her throat tighten and turned away from Kodi’s wide eyes. ‘There was a time I would have fought. I was spirited – I cared.’ She wasn’t sure when that person gave way to the one she was now. She thought about her anti-PSA movement, and what had they called it, Project Ford? ‘You remind me of my son.’

  ‘So, what would he do?’

  ‘He and I are more different than I realised,’ Jun said. ‘He would probably fight.’ The regret for the person that she had been, was palpable.

  Kodi slapped her hands together and looked at Jun square in the eyes. ‘I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.’

  Jun nodded, with a look of apprehension. ‘And so help me, so have I.’

  CHAPTER 4

  7th May 2062

  His mother had been right when she’d noticed Kau’s weight gain. Her suspicions were rarely wide of the mark. He…they’d, been out most nights. Quiet meals, lively bars, frequently both. Over the past month, they’d racked up their nights out like shots, and his belt had released equally as many notches. Kau tugged at his trouser leg, pulling out the thigh-crease that speared his skin – they were much too tight now. He needed to rein it in, and fast.

  The late afternoon sun filtered through the exotic plants and shrubs of The Ends, channelling a lazy cabana, or maybe something a bit livelier, like the Casa Baja. During the University holidays, he and his friend Maxime went travelling, usually in the Euro-provinces. There was a place in Catalonia, the Casa Baja, that was similar to here; the same bar-come-eatery-come dancing vibe. The Ends was so named because it was almost bang-on the West Province border, and its raison d’etre was that you enjoyed and partied like it was the end of the world. It also had a reputation of being the place where you always ‘ended up’, whether you wanted to or not. All very tongue-in-cheek, a little too tongue-in-cheek. It hadn’t looked so bad on its platform, but now he was here, he could see why Celeste had pushed for somewhere else.

  Behind him, a guitar played catatonic strum after catatonic strum. Heady voices murmured in steady percussion; a cymbal of laughter struck in time with the chef, who in the middle of the bustling terrace, flipped vegetables like he was playing a game of keepy-uppy. With every toss, he seasoned his chillies and onions with a little faux-Latino spirit of the place.

  A waitress, not an Ai-ssistant, spun passed Kau’s table in an energetic cha-cha, winding her hips around the guests posturing with cocktails. The Ends only had human waiting staff, just like the Inspiro, but that was where the similarity ended. You went to the Inspiro to be seen; here, he’d come to be hidden. He’d have preferred a quiet meal for two rather than this poor stab at Mardi Gras, but it was unlikely anyone from work would see them, and they were running out of discreet places. They’d both clocked off a little earlier from work than usual, so they wanted to be as far away from the base as possible. He’d been warned office politics and romances didn’t make for great bedfellows and from what Kau had seen so far, Anton, his boss, didn’t suffer fools gladly. Kau didn’t want Anton to think he was distracted from work. Lately, he had been distracted, but for an entirely different reason altogether.

  His father had prepared him to feel a little overwhelmed at first, but Kau hadn’t expected to feel so… conflicted, or was it apprehension? He’d hurtled through his first month like a ball bearing out of a slingshot, and the last thing he wanted was collateral damage. But he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He wasn’t sure if he was overreacting or it was an unfortunate coincidence. His spine had chilled when he’d seen the news reports about the Chirchirs. Who said that there was no such thing as coincidences?

  Celeste’s creamed skin and corn-coloured hair pulled him away from his misgivings. Her dress bloomed with pinks, blues, greens and yellows; she looked like a walking rainbow. Her smile parted the cocktail-hedonists, and Kau stood up to greet her and take in a lungful of her sweet – was it neroli? – scent. Celeste was smart, too smart for him, really. Two parts architect, two parts civil engineer, she designed communities as well as homes. Brilliant and capable, Celeste. He even liked the way his tongue rolled in his mouth as he said her name. Celllllllesssssste.

  She looked around and arched an eyebrow as if to say, where on Earth have you brought me?

  ‘I know, but this was one of the only outta-the-way places that was left.’

  ‘I’m familiar with it,’ she said. Her lapis-blue eyes darted around them, scanning the bustle of the terrace.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought this place was your kind of thing,’ Kau said, inspecting the garish mosaic tiles on the table.

  ‘It isn’t,’ she said in a way he knew not to probe any further; maybe she was a little too familiar with The Ends. ‘Drink?’ No sooner had she spoken, than she’d given a single nod to a waiter, who salsa-ed over to them. ‘I’ll have a
Screwdriver and, Kau?’ She looked at him like his mother did sometimes, expectant, but like she already knew the answer. ‘Do you want a Manhattan?’ He nodded, and the waiter whirled away amongst the crowd. Celeste put her phone on the table and sighed. It was another few moments till she looked at him, and the warm-glow he was used to seeing, returned.

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘So, what did you want to talk about?’

  Her eyes melted through him, and he couldn’t quite remember what he was going to say, just as when he first met her six weeks ago. When he’d first joined the project, he had excitedly taken a tour of the relevant departments, and had met Celeste in the EnginArc Workshop, her workshop.

  ‘I have an office that I’m supposed to work in, in the main building,’ she had said, and looked around her before confiding to him. ‘But I can’t think there. Here’s where my real work gets done,’ she said, and showed him around the workshop, walking him around her prototypes and posterity projects. There was a transparent BioDome with its own self-sufficient utility system, which had been designed for observational studies. ‘Behavioural and biochemical mainly,’ she said, ‘but they work for any controlled research.’ There was a levitating house, where boosters interrupted the inertia-gravity waves and harnessed the energy to reverse the process.

  ‘We were testing the technology in case it was something we needed to integrate at future flood-risk sites. But the technology is too costly at the moment, and now we have other solutions, it’s not so much of a priority…’

  He hadn’t known what to say. It put his migratory management into perspective. Celeste was changing the shape of the solar system, throwing the banquet of a lifetime, while he was re-arranging the place settings.

  ‘I wanted to ask your advice,’ he said finally, unsure how to phrase the question. He and Celeste tried to avoid talking about work. Neither of them wanted things to get messy, but he couldn’t speak to his father about this. He didn’t want him to think that his son wasn’t up for the job.

  ‘I was rather hoping you’d ask me to dance,’ she said, her shoulders rippling to the rhythm that swelled around them. Her teasing smile and breeziness jarred with what was on his mind. He wondered instead if he should tell her that he’d programmed his home-comp to recognise her chips, so she could come and go as she liked. But talking about that made him just as nervous.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, and squeezed his hand for him to continue.

  ‘It’s just… well, Anton asked me to help him with something. And it’s not,’ he tried to continue, but faltered. Her eyebrows knitted together. How did he even begin to explain? ‘It might all be a coincidence, but…’ His mind raced to the image of Kodi Chirchir, imagining her hiding somewhere, scared and alone.

  ‘Kau,’ she said softly, her thumb stroking his hand. ‘Is this restricted information?’ Her face told him that she already knew it was. ‘You know you can’t talk to me about it. I want to be there for you, but I’ve been in this situation before. Let’s just say, restricted information needs to be exactly that…’ her voice slunk out to join the swinging hips and raised glasses of their fellow patrons.

  He had thought as much. It had been foolish to bring it up, and stupid for worrying about it. This kind of thing may or may not happen all the time. No one else seemed to worry about it, why should he be any different? His chest might have deflated, his shoulders might have slumped a little, but if they had, he wouldn’t let it show.

  ‘Dance?’ he said, and lifted her hand, pulling her to him before she had a chance to say no. She stood up beside him, and he pulled her close. Though the beat was energetic, she rested her chin on his chest, and they swayed to a rhythm of their own. The waiter brought their drinks to the table.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But, it’s for the best, trust me. I’ve been in this game a bit longer than you…’ Celeste swirled her finger around a stray strand of his hair. ‘I like your hair long,’ she murmured.

  Celeste had more UA experience than him and was a few years older. If anyone knew the score, it was her. He was only glad to have not brought it up with his father; trip up on sharing restricted information. Kau was ready to escape into the haze of Celeste’s neroli neck when a buzzing in his pocket pulled him back; his phone was ringing. Celeste gave a groan as he picked it out of his pocket and looked at the Interface – it was Anton.

  ‘Hold on a sec,’ he said and reluctantly peeled himself away from her. He couldn’t talk to Anton out here. He weaved in between the shimmying bodies and ducked inside to find a quiet corner.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, answering it a couple of rings later than he usually would have.

  ‘What on Earth are you doing there?’ Anton’s voice harrumphed at him, before petering out into a slow, low chuckle.

  Kau cursed inwardly. He only hoped they had no reason to monitor Celeste – was nothing private? ‘Reliving my youth,’ he said, hoping to deflect the conversation.

  ‘You’re already living your youth, son,’ Anton said. ‘Don’t rub it in.’ There was an excitement in his tone. Whatever it was, Anton was in a good mood. ‘Get ready to leave in ten minutes. I’m collecting you – I need you on something.’

  Kau suppressed the inner monologue in his head which sounded remarkably like his mother. They expect, no, demand, your full attention and loyalty. ‘Now?’ he said, as neutrally as he could.

  Anton’s pause let Kau know he’d misfired. ‘Now,’ Anton said. ‘Tell whoever you’re with you’ve got important UA business. Restricted information. She’ll… he’ll love it,’ he said. ‘Information is knowledge, and knowledge is power. There’s no better turn on than power, so meet me outside in nine.’

  Anton, and Anton’s wife, Helena flashed in Kau’s mind, and he quickly shook it off; gross. He made his way back through the crowds, legs dragging, to find Celeste. He didn’t want to leave; their evening had barely got started.

  When he found her, her face was white. No, not white, grey, and her warm lapis-blues had turned glacial.

  ‘We need to leave,’ she said, teetering on the edge of tears.

  ‘What happened?’ Kau put his arms around her; her body was stiff but loosened up at his touch. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, and he felt her head nodding in his neck. ‘But let’s get out of here.’

  What had suddenly upset Celeste so much? He didn’t want to leave her like this, but duty called. Is this what it was always going to be like? He choked back his mother’s voice again.

  ‘That was Anton,’ Kau hesitated. ‘He’s collecting me in five. Something urgent has come up with work,’ he said, pulling away from her body so he could look her in the eye. He saw her disappointment, and a mighty anger squalled inside him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he started to say, but Celeste was already brushing through the crowds to leave.

  ‘Just let me get out of here,’ she said, the tears finally began to flow.

  ‘Stop,’ he pulled her arm. ‘Go to mine, wait for me there, I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

  ‘How will I get in?’

  ‘That was something else I wanted to talk about. I programmed my home-comp to let you in automatically now. There’s no need to announce yourself, and you can come and go as you please,’ he said. At this, warmth came back to her face, defrosting her eyes.

  She kissed him goodbye, her tepid tears slipped from her cheeks to his. ‘If Anton’s coming, I better get out of here. I’ll wait at yours then,’ she smiled.

  Seeing Celeste run away, the squall dissipated, leaving a canyon in its wake. He wasn’t sure if it was seeing Celeste cry, or the dread of what Anton was going to say, but there was a sense of foreboding that he couldn’t shake. It snaked along from the terrace, out here into the open car park, winding around him, asphyxiating his throat. Had he made a terrible mistake?

  CHAPTER 5

  7th September 2037 – Week 1 (Day 6) of the study

  ‘I’m ready when you are,’ Zaye said, her head encircled by a crown of
wires, her eyes shrouded with a blindfold. She gave a rascal’s smile. The Cognitive Lab had shrunk in the week since Zaye arrived. The hulk of a space felt less vacant, its guts had filled out. Or maybe they’d finally grown into it, like the hand-me-down clothes Jun’s mother insisted she wore till her limbs stretched, but that had been the way of the world then. Since last week’s SRT tests revealed the first crevice of light, the team had steadily worked, measuring Zaye’s responses and then completed neurological assessments. The fissure swelled, the light intensified, but what was beyond? Today they would find out. Zaye always had some level of visual stimuli in the recognition tests, if only for lip service, until now. This time, Zaye would go in blind, and finally they would get a handle on the scale of her Pre-Emptive Perception.

  Jun’s nerves simmered beneath her calm exterior; ever since the first test the black fist of fear clutched her chest and knuckled her mind. She couldn’t get lost in the expectation of it all. Despite everything, Zaye might not be able to do it.

  Zaye sat on the bench in the middle of the lab, with her back to the illum wall and her face, shrouded, and staring ahead. Her legs swung back and forth in anticipation; fear never seemed to touch her.

  Jun watched as Delun and Jiazhen on either side of Zaye did a final sweep of the electrodes on her scalp. Jun checked the time. She only had an hour to finish the session before she needed to leave for the anti-PSA meeting at 6.30pm. It was a tight squeeze – she hated rushing – and didn’t want any distractions from this moment. She checked herself: don’t get carried away.

  Zaye’s smile grew, and despite her efforts, one spread across Jun’s lips too. It was catching, like a happy contagion. She looked to Delphine by the monitors, who was always smiling anyway, but this time it was different. Even Delun and the tech Ai-ssistants might be able to catch the smile too.

  ‘Okay,’ Jun said and walked to stand next to Delphine and the monitors which were in front of Zaye. ‘Let’s go.’