Skyfall Read online

  ‘Anything interesting?’ Her father, not wanting to wake the baby, kept his voice low.

  ‘Not that I can see, just the usual … Oh. Shi!’

  ‘What?’

  Leaving the caf half-made, Kesra’s father came and stood behind her.

  ‘Isn’t that your friend?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They watched in silence. When the story finished, her father raised his eyebrows. ‘Well. That was … informative.’

  ‘What in the Sky was he thinking?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s true.’

  ‘It can’t be. He’d have told me. He tells me everything.’

  ‘Clearly not.’ Her father returned to the tiny prep area. ‘You know what I’ve always said about upper-level kids, Kes.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad, I know. Lari’s different, though.’

  ‘Sure looks that way. Here you go.’ He placed a cup down beside her and took his own back towards the bedroom he and his wife shared with the Bean.

  ‘Lari, what possessed you?’ Kes muttered.

  She had to call him. No question. Sky! Even if the Underground weren’t on her back she’d do it anyway. She owed him that much, especially after what she’d called him yesterday. She glanced at the time. It was still early, but he’d be better off if she warned him before someone else got to him. Like his father.

  She punched Lari’s access code into the terminal. He wasn’t answering. She let it go. With a bit of luck he was still asleep.

  The first time she’d met Larinan Mann had been her first day at the advanced school. They’d been in the same class, thrown together by fate, or so it had seemed at the time – the copygen and the mixie girl, a couple of pariahs trapped by circumstance in one of the city’s most guarded upper-level strongholds. The advanced school was where the policy of ‘concentration of aptitude’ found its strongest expression. For centuries the science and political branches of the city had been sending their children there from as young as three years of age, to be ‘properly inducted’ into their family fields. At six, Kes had been a late starter, but that in itself wasn’t exceptional.

  The exceptional part was that she came from a mixed-use family and usually there was no way someone like Kes would have been allowed even to set foot outside the maglift hub at the advanced school.

  Somehow, though, she’d been accepted.

  When they got the com informing them, she’d thought it was the best thing that had ever happened to her – to their whole family. This was her chance to shine and pull her mum and dad out of their three-roomer and up into one of the glittering high domes, into the rarified air at the very top of the city.

  It hadn’t happened that way, of course. On her first morning, before school had even started, the other kids were onto her.

  ‘What are you doing here, mixie?’

  ‘Come to make my lunch, mixie?’

  ‘You can’t sit here. This is for DGAP kids only.’

  The only one who hadn’t joined in was Larinan – the copygen. She’d spotted him on the other side of the school common, sitting on his own, and she threaded her way towards him, ignoring the jeers of the other kids when they realised where she was headed.

  ‘Hey, check it out! Mixie’s got a boyf! She’s going out with sister.’

  Standing over him, Kes thought she’d never seen anyone look so miserable in her whole life.

  ‘Hey. I’m Kes.’

  He’d looked up at her, an odd, disconcerted expression on his face. She thought he was going to ignore her or poke fun like the others, but then he’d nodded.

  ‘I know. The teachers told us you were coming. They said we weren’t to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  For a moment Kes felt like the entire school dome was falling around her. She blinked back furious tears, determined not to give any of them the satisfaction. Then the boy clambered awkwardly to his feet.

  ‘I don’t care, though. The teachers here are shi. So are the kids. I’m Lari.’

  The jeering and taunts of the other kids faded into the background and the thudding in her ears subsided.

  ‘Hi, Lari,’ she said with a grin.

  The com chimed, waking Lari from a disturbed sleep.

  All night he’d been plagued with dreams. By the time they’d returned from the Darklands, changed and gotten home, it was close to fourth shift and he’d fallen into bed exhausted, expecting to sleep like the dead.

  He hadn’t though. For a long time he had lain awake, images of the ancient facility and the squalid township and the man crossing that vast emptiness all fighting in his mind as he struggled to put everything into some kind of perspective.

  There were still too many gaps. After his comment about not losing hope, his father hadn’t explained anything further. ‘The rest can wait until tomorrow,’ he’d said.

  And when Lari had finally fallen asleep, the dreams had come: awful, vivid dreams, in which he and his mother were together, running across a vast and empty space. Something was chasing them – darkness, and light. And they ran …

  The com chimed again and a glance at his bedroom console showed that it was already well into first shift. His father must have let him sleep in. Lari reached out and stumbled his hand across the dimming controls for his room, while the com kept up its insistent clamour.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Are you still speaking to me?’

  ‘Kes!’ Lari sat up fast, shaking his head to try and clear some of the nightmare.

  ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘No … I mean, yeah. But it’s time I was up anyway.’

  There was a strained silence. Both were uncomfortably aware of the way they’d parted the day before. Finally, Kes spoke across the quiet hiss of the comline.

  ‘Listen, I have to talk to you about what happened, but not until you’ve seen today’s newswebs.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about, Kes. You made yourself pretty clear yesterday. Anyway, I’ve got to get into DGAP.’

  ‘DGAP?’

  ‘I’ve been placed.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to—’

  ‘I didn’t. But my father’s decided he wants me there after all.’

  ‘Why the sudden change of heart?’

  ‘I guess you were right. He just got sick of me hanging around doing nothing.’

  ‘What are you doing there? You don’t know anything about subgenetics.’

  ‘No idea. I guess I’ll find out eventually. Anyway, I have to go.’

  ‘But we have to talk. When can you—’

  Lari cut the link and hauled himself out of bed. He’d let her stew a bit longer before he caved in and forgave her. It’d do her good. Perhaps she’d even stop dragging him into her ‘adventures’. He was only halfway through dressing when the com chimed again.

  ‘Leave it alone, Kes,’ he muttered, but this message was from his father. Text only.

  What in the Sky were you thinking? Get into DGAP now!

  Lari read it twice, a crease of confusion knotting between his eyes. It made no sense. Finally he erased the message and finished dressing, bolting his protein supp as he did so.

  There were a few kids running around the common, and the usual crowd of people waiting by the hub. Lari waited his turn and then scanned in.

  ‘Port North Central. DGAP hub.’

  He moved across to the allocation area, remembering that Kes had told him to check the webs. He’d do it at DGAP.

  While he waited for the lift, a man wearing a white DGAP jacket emerged from the western tower and walked briskly across the common. Lari sighed and braced himself for the inevitable conversation about his father and his brother, but when the man finished his lift summons and joined Lari in the allocation area he threw a glance of pure dislike his way before turning and pointedly ignoring him.

  After what seemed like an age, the lift finally arrived, and both of them stepped into it together, along with a couple of other people.

  ‘Nice day,’ Lari o
ffered. His companion simply grunted and positioned himself on the far side, fixing his glare on the newspanel and refusing to make eye contact.

  The panel was streaming the main stories from one of the citywebs, the usual mix of gossip, soft politics and human interest. Images flashed and flickered from domes all across the city, showing life going on as it did every day. Then, as they moved into a different coverage zone, the newspanel switched networks.

  ‘And in our other news …’ The streaming reader was a woman with fair hair and skin pale almost to the point of artificiality, ‘…the younger son of DGAP’s head of research, Larinan Mann, confirmed yesterday that the Darklands Genetic Adaptation Program is rapidly approaching a state of irrelevance, so much so that he himself is currently hoping for placement outside the family field of subgenetics.’

  The bottom lurched out of Lari’s stomach. Suddenly, there he was on the panel, head and shoulders, shrugging straight into the camera, the DGAP foyer clear in the background behind him.

  ‘Everyone knows the Subjects are almost all dead. What’s left for DGAP to do once they’re gone? Not a lot, just a whole pile of data crunching, and for what? It’s not like the results will be useful with no living primary subjects.’

  ‘Is that what your father believes?’

  ‘I think so. He never puts it in quite those terms, though.’

  Lari’s image faded and the pale woman appeared again.

  ‘Larinan Mann, the younger of the two Mann children, and a second son’ – Lari caught the twitch at the corners of her mouth as she read that bit – ‘graduated from the advanced school several months ago and to date has not received a placement anywhere within the city. Sources within the Human Resource Placement Department confirm that as of yesterday morning no application has been lodged by the Mann family for their younger son, for either a position in the family field or an exemption from it. None of the Mann family could be contacted for comment last night, but Larinan Mann’s comments have fuelled speculation that the Prelature is becoming increasingly frustrated with the ongoing costs of maintaining DGAP, and that a possible end-date for the project is being considered. Alphaweb will continue to follow this story and bring you the latest news as it develops. In other news …’

  Lari tore his gaze from the panel. The lift was suddenly silent, every pair of eyes fixed on him.

  ‘Shi!’

  ‘Nice work, kid.’ The DGAP man’s voice was insolent. ‘Great to have you on our team.’

  Lari opened his mouth, but couldn’t find a thing to say. When the lift finally transitioned upwards into DGAP, he sighed with relief.

  His relief was short-lived, though. Janil was waiting beside the hub.

  ‘Father sent me down to make sure you don’t give any more interviews between here and his office.’

  ‘It was a mistake. I didn’t know the bloke was a webcaster.’

  ‘That makes it okay then.’ Janil’s tone was grim as he gestured towards the internal lifts. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Is Dad upset?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I really had no idea. He didn’t have any recording gear or anything.’

  ‘Oldest trick in the book. A micro-recorder sewn into the collar of his daywear. Transmits straight to a chip back at his desk.’

  ‘Shouldn’t he have told me he was recording?’

  ‘Does it matter now?’

  Not another word was spoken on the way up to research. Dernan Mann was sitting behind his desk.

  ‘Larinan.’ His voice was flat.

  ‘Listen, Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t have any idea that the guy—’

  ‘I’m not interested, Larinan.’ Dernan Mann held up a hand to cut Lari off. ‘I’ve already spent most of my morning trying to placate the Prelate. I don’t have any more time to waste on you.’

  ‘I told you bringing him in was a mistake,’ Janil sneered. ‘If you’d listened to me—’

  ‘And I don’t have time for your bickering either, Janil.’ Their father sighed. ‘What we have to do now, all three of us, is get on with the work at hand and let the media department deal with the spin on this.’

  ‘What!’ Janil looked aghast. ‘You mean that after what he’s done we’re still going to—’

  ‘Janil, it’s not a major disaster. It’s just an annoyance that, at a time when we’re trying to divert people’s attention away from DGAP, Larinan has inadvertently thrown fuel onto the fire. Luckily, he didn’t tell the webs anything we hadn’t already been feeding them, and now that he’s been officially placed here, the fuss should die down relatively quickly. Especially given that the Prelate’s media people have already placed a D-notice on this story and anything relating to it. Our task now is simply to continue with the project, as we discussed yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘That’s insane. What if he talks to somebody else? What if he’s already—’

  ‘He won’t. End of discussion. Now …’ Dernan Mann turned back to his terminal and entered a command. Immediately, a familiar image flashed onto the screen.

  ‘Mother.’

  The picture had been taken only a few months before she’d vanished. Lari stared at himself and Janil, still only children, grinning on either side of her.

  ‘Eyna was one of the first to really put the whole entropy picture together. Janil has done some amazing work, effectively carrying on from where she’ – his father hesitated – ‘stopped. But there are still gaps, things we haven’t been able to piece together. Until now.’

  ‘What “things”?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Dernan Mann gestured Lari not to interrupt. ‘As you’ve no doubt worked out, Larinan, despite what you told the webcaster, DGAP is a long way from being obsolete. In fact, right now this department has never been more crucial to the survival of the race. We’ve evolved ourselves into this problem, and, as the controlling body of history’s largest ever genetic experiment, DGAP’s real purpose, for quite some time now, has been to evolve us back out of it – to find a way out for humanity, an escape clause, if you like. That was your mother’s field. And, it turns out, she found one. Or almost. When she vanished, she’d been working on one specific scenario – something everyone, even me, thought was crazy. She, on the other hand, believed it was the only answer.’

  ‘What?’

  His father and Janil glanced at one another, a brief, silent exchange.

  ‘You have to understand, Larinan, that your mother was arguably the most intelligent abstract thinker that DGAP has ever known, but she was also, what’s the word? Eccentric. She often refused to use proper scientific process. She’d make leaps to conclusions that couldn’t possibly be supported by the available evidence.’

  Lari thought about their secretive mornings on the balcony.

  ‘So what?’

  Janil cut into the conversation. ‘Because now that we’re well past the point of no return, now that we’re out of time, as luck would have it Mother’s most outlandish, most unscientific thesis has come true. Now, finally, there might be a solution, if we’re fast enough.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not what, Larinan, who!

  ‘Eh?’

  Another long look passed between Dernan and Janil Mann.

  ‘Let’s show him.’

  Janil nodded and their father rose from his desk and Lari followed them out along the corridor and through the lab, stopping at an unmarked door. Dernan Mann waved his wristband over a plate set into the wall and the door clicked open.

  ‘This way.’

  Beyond was a short, brightly lit corridor, with optic diffusers running its entire length. At the far end, another door, the twin of the one through which they’d just passed, blocked the way.

  ‘What’s with the airlock?’

  ‘It’s both a security and an anti-contamination measure.’

  ‘Contamination?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s safe.’ Now it was Janil who scanned in. The second door clicked and Lari followed his brother and
father, blinking as his eyes adjusted. The room they’d entered was bare, without a single item of furniture. It was a long, curved room with a couple of pedestal-mounted data terminals facing large, floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched the entire length of the inner wall. This was the only source of light, throwing a strangely muted grey rectangle on the bare floor.

  ‘What is this place?’

  ‘Go and have a look.’ Janil nodded towards the window.

  Suddenly apprehensive, Lari walked over and stared.

  Beyond the glass was a deep, round, white chamber.

  The first thing that struck him was the light. It glared off every white surface. Everything in the chamber – the walls, the floor – was white, pure and sterile, and the light reflected so that even through the heavily-filtered clearcrete window it dazzled the eyes, causing red spots to dance across Lari’s vision.

  It wasn’t the light that caused Lari to step back, however. As he made out the chamber’s single occupant, he gasped.

  ‘You’ll get used to the light. Don’t worry about it. It’s necessary to maintain the integrity of the subject. The filters reduce it to well below the max exposure protocol.’ Janil’s tone was clinical. ‘Keep looking.’

  ‘I’ve seen enough.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  Now Dernan Mann stepped up beside him, staring down at the girl who lay, curled in a foetal knot and clad only in a white, backless hospital gown, on a padded podium in the centre of the room. He gestured Lari to join him and reluctantly Lari did so, feeling like some kind of pervert as he let his gaze fall once again on the dark, motionless figure.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Subject 45698F. She’s the last of them, Larinan. The final subject. She’s the one nobody but your mother believed existed.’

  ‘A Darklander?’

  ‘Of course.’ His father smiled. ‘Look at her skin and hair. Have you ever seen anything so … beautiful?’

  ‘It’s just pigment, Father.’ Janil sounded bored.

  ‘That was us once, Janil. Doesn’t that make you feel even slightly—’

  ‘I’m a scientist. My job isn’t to feel, it’s to resequence DNA.’