Chapter One
1. Clockwork
(2256 AD)
I loved this moment, that brief hanging instant with every detail clear. The whirring hum held steady. The gears turned back and forth throughout the canopy of moving parts: everything all but synchronised, so close to perfect, but with that single point of tension, just there. It meant I had failed. It meant I had half a second left.
A stretching creak broke the background hum. I dove for the floor, as the jam jar exploded. Tinkling collisions rang out all around. Glass shards and blobs of orange jam struck walls and roof, raining down on my back and hair.
‘That wasn’t supposed to happen,’ I muttered, crawling to my feet. But I'd seen the problem. I'd get the machine working. Only problem was the mess I'd just made of my room.
Glutinous gunk lay spattered across my window. The red light of sunset refracted through it in odd, fiery patterns. I took a step closer, wiped a hand through the gunk and looked out on our small housing unit. Soon the arrays in the roof would shift again, offering the pale half-light of stars and moon. It was, of course, all an imitation. Somewhere above, a real sunset burnt across a real sky. How could the light simulators packed into our ceilings possibly compare with that?
I was fifteen-years-old and yet, in all that time, I had only seen our real sun once. It had changed me and changed my choices. I had decided to become an engineer, where I would work on the surface. I’d get to tend the huge energy-generating machines that made life possible in our underground cities. And I would see the sun, every single day.
My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of my father: ‘What on earth is going on here, Emily?’
He stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed behind the slender lenses of his spectacles. He took a step forward, shaking his head. The mess was everywhere. Several globs had landed on my book-covered bed, where it stood hemmed in at the other side of the room.
‘Uhm, I was working at a class project,’ I said, wiping my hands off on the back of my jeans.
‘I see. Dare I ask what you were trying to achieve?’
I hung my head, hiding a blush. ‘Just get the lid off a jam jar.’
‘Oh,’ he said, a tiny smile creasing his face. ‘Still, it certainly looks like you needed to take better safety precautions -’ The ringing of our doorbell interrupted my father. ‘I’d better get that.’
‘Sure.’
‘Watch yourself on the glass.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
Once he had gone, I quickly switched T-shirts and then ran a brush through my long hair. Most of the glass dislodged easily, but the jam smeared badly. I sighed, tied it back and hurried after my father. Maybe Granddad had come early for dinner. It would be good to say hi to him. Cleaning up my room could wait.
My bedroom lay tucked away at the back of our one-floored house, opening out onto a long, straight corridor. The front door was open at the end of it. I could just make out two or three figures facing my dad through the doorway, but none of them looked like my Grandfather.
‘My name is Niyabenne and we are here for your daughter.’
An ID badge flashed in front of my father’s face, but I couldn’t see it properly from my angle.
‘Emily? Why?’ The fear in Dad’s voice sounded all manner of wrong.
I stopped a few feet behind him. The lead man, the one speaking, flicked his narrow eyes toward me and then away. He noted my presence with that glance, but showed no other reaction, his face remaining as bland as his charcoal suit.
‘She is needed.' A long silence followed the declaration, the two men staring at each other, as if attempting coded telepathy.
‘You do realise who we are, Niyabenne? We have no history of this.’
‘Yes, sir, we do. And we don’t make mistakes. She must come with us.’
I took a nervous step forward, beside my dad. ‘To where?’
No-one answered, but someone opened the living room door, behind us. I span around to see my mother stood still, her hands freshly rinsed and still dripping. Her expression of polite welcome dissolved as she stared at the dark-suited strangers. ‘James?’ she whispered, addressing my father.
Dad took a long, difficult breath. He pulled himself up straight and used the added height of our raised doorway to tower over the intruders. ‘This can’t be right, Mr Niyabenne.’
'You know the rules as well anyone, sir.’
Silence reigned for a long moment.
‘We're a Guardian family. You can't bully us around like some VR addicted citizen. If we must discuss this, we do it in my study and not in front of my daughter.’
‘As you wish.’
My father allowed the Niyabenne into the house, and his two escorts followed, heading through the living room. The impeccably dressed men looked like clerks or secretaries, until I saw their eyes and knew they were something else entirely.
Mother stopped me when I tried to follow the three adults into our study. ‘Stay out here,’ she said, resting a hand on my shoulder. ‘We’ll explain everything... later.’
I opened my mouth, needing to wring some answers out of her, but before I could speak, she ducked into the study and closed the door behind her. My father always worked his ‘magic’ from that room. Only the other week he had secured me an engineering apprenticeship with the Special Agency. Surely he could fix whatever this was.
Our living room fell quiet. The two remaining officials stood only a few feet behind me. They said nothing as I walked over to the armchair by my mother’s bookcase, but they tracked my every step, heads turning like security cameras on remote, until I sank down into the chair.
What ID badge had Niyabenne shown my parents? Who were these grim-eyed men he’d brought with him? Government officials? Hired thugs? The questions repeated themselves, as I stared at our wall clock. The long minute hand turned traitor on me, each moment stretching out slower and slower. The door to the kitchen must have been open, too, because the smell of chopped garlic wafted out to me, wrenching at my stomach. It was so home-like, so familiar. We would be having dinner in half an hour. Granddad would be here. Everything would be fine.
Three minutes and thirty seconds later, the study door thudded open, rebounding against the wall. Niyabenne strode through, his eyes locking onto mine.
‘If you’ll come with me, Miss Forias.’
I stood up, concentrating all my will on keeping my voice steady: ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not… I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what is going on.’
My father emerged with my mother, and I looked to him for support. To my shock, he wouldn’t meet my gaze, and instead, stared unseeing at our blue polymer floor.
‘Dad?’
‘They have all the necessary verification,’ he said finally, but without raising his head.
‘Mum?’
‘You… you’ll make us very proud, Emily, dear.’ And she, too, seemed unable to meet my eyes, hiding instead behind her short fringe of black hair, while she gazed at my toes. ‘In some ways it’s a great honour, a chance to… help…’ The last word caught in her mouth. She struggled to get it out. Her head flicked up and she stared straight at me, her eyes desperate, asking me to understand. ‘It’s all set up, you see.’
‘Set up?’
‘She means that you have no choice,’ Niyabenne said, checking his watch. ‘And you have little time, either. I’m afraid you will come with us. Now.’
He laid a restraining hand on my shoulder. I shook it off. A nod of his head saw the two black-suited men step forward, grabbing me by my arms. ‘Hey!’ I shouted, struggling against them.
My father took a step closer to Niyabenne, his body tensed, eyes shining bright. ‘Do not touch her.’
‘I don’t obey your orders.’
Dad opened his mouth, but Niyabenne cut off any further protest with just a gesture. ‘I do apologise, Mr Forias,’ he said, inclining his head at the two escorts, ‘but you have no power in this room, in this moment. We are taking your daughter, by force, if necessary.’
A flinch ran down one side of my father’s face. He stilled it, until both sides were blank. ‘I see,’ he said, and then, after a moment: ‘Emily, go with them. Don’t make this difficult.’
My heart dropped. Where was the man who had told me off with kindly authority, just minutes before? What had happened to him? Where was my dad?
I didn’t resist when they pulled me out of the living room. Neither did my parents. Dad pinned his gaze on empty space. He still didn’t look at me. He couldn’t or wouldn’t or… I didn’t know what. Mum froze. She kept her eyes fixed on mine. Her left hand gripped her own cheek, leaving white streaks where her nails dug in.
Something snapped as soon as they had me out in the hallway. ‘Let me go!’ I screamed. ‘Let me back!’
My parents would hear my shouts. They’d come get me…
Or I’d get to them. If I could get back to the living room, everything would reset and make sense again! So I clawed at the hands and arms that gripped me, raking away flesh and blood. I threw my elbows into any flesh I could reach.
One man grunted in pain, but the grip didn’t lessen. They dragged me forwards and hurled me out through the front door. I landed hard in the grass of our front garden, the ground damp beneath my knees. My ponytail came loose and a roaring erupted in my brain, snarling its defiance. Jam-streaked hair hung in front of my eyes, glinting in the mock sunset.
‘I won’t let you take me.’
‘You have no other option. I’m sorry.’
One of the lackeys approached me. His movements seemed to slow down in my head, for in just one moment, I was on my feet, my arm swinging forwards, fist outstretched, until I sank it in the weak flesh of his stomach. The man crumpled.
Strong arms grabbed me from behind. They pinned me against a body, quashing the rush of victory. I struggled. The roaring in my ears rose until my temples throbbed in red agony.
‘Cease,’ ordered the leader, still standing in front. ‘This will do you no good.’
All my anger pinned itself on the man, who continued to look at me with abhorrent blankness. My gaze fell lower, fixing on his throat as some animal instinct whispered in my ear:
Throbbing pulse... thin skin between... vulnerable... and weak...
The air burnt crimson around me. Niyabenne’s eyes widened. He clutched at the skin above his windpipe, tiny gagging noises escaping through his fingers. I didn’t understand what was happening, but then, I didn’t really care. He was hurting. That was enough.
‘Inject her,’ the leader croaked. ‘Now!’
The first lackey ran forward, recovered; it seemed I hadn’t punched him hard enough. He pulled a small pressurizer from his belt and jabbed the device into the flesh of my neck. I had no time to react. The tell-tale hiss rang out. Whatever was in the pressurizer had been forced into my bloodstream.
The sense of power slipped away, like a sandcastle against the tide, and I was left alone, with just my fear for company.
‘What was that?’
Niyabenne rubbed his throat gingerly, ignoring me entirely. ‘My thanks,’ he said, nodding at his two colleagues. ‘Now let’s get on. We don’t want to be late.’
My head started to spin. Was that the effect of the drug? Or of everything else? What had it done? What had I done? The questions continued to assail me and I had answers for none of them.
They frog-marched me through our residential unit, past the immaculate lawns of our neighbours and past the house of Mrs Matthieson, whose garden was full of hyacinths and whose curtain twitched as I stared across.
‘Where are you taking me?’ I shouted, my hands curling into fists. ‘What right do you have?’
They all ignored me. As we reached the pod terminal, I cast my eyes around, searching for a way free. A trail of water dripped down the wall on my left, peeling back some of the tiling to reveal the black gleam of igneous rock. But the inevitable work crew wasn't here quite yet and the unit was utterly empty. The only friendly face in sight was the two-dimensional face of the pod help desk, which greeted us as we approached. Her name was Beth and she'd always been kind to me. It was absurd, but I longed to scream to her, to beg for her help.
They pushed me through the pod doors and right to the back of the metallic recess, which was only just big enough to hold all four of us. I shrank against the furthest wall while the three figures loomed in front of me, all chance of escape blocked.
Somewhere at the corner of my vision, Niyabenne leant down, tapping at keys on the onboard computer. We shot off sideways. The movement jolted me off balance, so that I sank dizzily to the floor, a grey static edging in to soak away my vision. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around myself, pretending, with all the strength I had, that I was somewhere other than here. Yet the whirring motion of our pod continued. Each passing second tore me further from my home.
(2256 AD)
I loved this moment, that brief hanging instant with every detail clear. The whirring hum held steady. The gears turned back and forth throughout the canopy of moving parts: everything all but synchronised, so close to perfect, but with that single point of tension, just there. It meant I had failed. It meant I had half a second left.
A stretching creak broke the background hum. I dove for the floor, as the jam jar exploded. Tinkling collisions rang out all around. Glass shards and blobs of orange jam struck walls and roof, raining down on my back and hair.
‘That wasn’t supposed to happen,’ I muttered, crawling to my feet. But I'd seen the problem. I'd get the machine working. Only problem was the mess I'd just made of my room.
Glutinous gunk lay spattered across my window. The red light of sunset refracted through it in odd, fiery patterns. I took a step closer, wiped a hand through the gunk and looked out on our small housing unit. Soon the arrays in the roof would shift again, offering the pale half-light of stars and moon. It was, of course, all an imitation. Somewhere above, a real sunset burnt across a real sky. How could the light simulators packed into our ceilings possibly compare with that?
I was fifteen-years-old and yet, in all that time, I had only seen our real sun once. It had changed me and changed my choices. I had decided to become an engineer, where I would work on the surface. I’d get to tend the huge energy-generating machines that made life possible in our underground cities. And I would see the sun, every single day.
My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of my father: ‘What on earth is going on here, Emily?’
He stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed behind the slender lenses of his spectacles. He took a step forward, shaking his head. The mess was everywhere. Several globs had landed on my book-covered bed, where it stood hemmed in at the other side of the room.
‘Uhm, I was working at a class project,’ I said, wiping my hands off on the back of my jeans.
‘I see. Dare I ask what you were trying to achieve?’
I hung my head, hiding a blush. ‘Just get the lid off a jam jar.’
‘Oh,’ he said, a tiny smile creasing his face. ‘Still, it certainly looks like you needed to take better safety precautions -’ The ringing of our doorbell interrupted my father. ‘I’d better get that.’
‘Sure.’
‘Watch yourself on the glass.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
Once he had gone, I quickly switched T-shirts and then ran a brush through my long hair. Most of the glass dislodged easily, but the jam smeared badly. I sighed, tied it back and hurried after my father. Maybe Granddad had come early for dinner. It would be good to say hi to him. Cleaning up my room could wait.
My bedroom lay tucked away at the back of our one-floored house, opening out onto a long, straight corridor. The front door was open at the end of it. I could just make out two or three figures facing my dad through the doorway, but none of them looked like my Grandfather.
‘My name is Niyabenne and we are here for your daughter.’
An ID badge flashed in front of my father’s face, but I couldn’t see it properly from my angle.
‘Emily? Why?’ The fear in Dad’s voice sounded all manner of wrong.
I stopped a few feet behind him. The lead man, the one speaking, flicked his narrow eyes toward me and then away. He noted my presence with that glance, but showed no other reaction, his face remaining as bland as his charcoal suit.
‘She is needed.' A long silence followed the declaration, the two men staring at each other, as if attempting coded telepathy.
‘You do realise who we are, Niyabenne? We have no history of this.’
‘Yes, sir, we do. And we don’t make mistakes. She must come with us.’
I took a nervous step forward, beside my dad. ‘To where?’
No-one answered, but someone opened the living room door, behind us. I span around to see my mother stood still, her hands freshly rinsed and still dripping. Her expression of polite welcome dissolved as she stared at the dark-suited strangers. ‘James?’ she whispered, addressing my father.
Dad took a long, difficult breath. He pulled himself up straight and used the added height of our raised doorway to tower over the intruders. ‘This can’t be right, Mr Niyabenne.’
'You know the rules as well anyone, sir.’
Silence reigned for a long moment.
‘We're a Guardian family. You can't bully us around like some VR addicted citizen. If we must discuss this, we do it in my study and not in front of my daughter.’
‘As you wish.’
My father allowed the Niyabenne into the house, and his two escorts followed, heading through the living room. The impeccably dressed men looked like clerks or secretaries, until I saw their eyes and knew they were something else entirely.
Mother stopped me when I tried to follow the three adults into our study. ‘Stay out here,’ she said, resting a hand on my shoulder. ‘We’ll explain everything... later.’
I opened my mouth, needing to wring some answers out of her, but before I could speak, she ducked into the study and closed the door behind her. My father always worked his ‘magic’ from that room. Only the other week he had secured me an engineering apprenticeship with the Special Agency. Surely he could fix whatever this was.
Our living room fell quiet. The two remaining officials stood only a few feet behind me. They said nothing as I walked over to the armchair by my mother’s bookcase, but they tracked my every step, heads turning like security cameras on remote, until I sank down into the chair.
What ID badge had Niyabenne shown my parents? Who were these grim-eyed men he’d brought with him? Government officials? Hired thugs? The questions repeated themselves, as I stared at our wall clock. The long minute hand turned traitor on me, each moment stretching out slower and slower. The door to the kitchen must have been open, too, because the smell of chopped garlic wafted out to me, wrenching at my stomach. It was so home-like, so familiar. We would be having dinner in half an hour. Granddad would be here. Everything would be fine.
Three minutes and thirty seconds later, the study door thudded open, rebounding against the wall. Niyabenne strode through, his eyes locking onto mine.
‘If you’ll come with me, Miss Forias.’
I stood up, concentrating all my will on keeping my voice steady: ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not… I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what is going on.’
My father emerged with my mother, and I looked to him for support. To my shock, he wouldn’t meet my gaze, and instead, stared unseeing at our blue polymer floor.
‘Dad?’
‘They have all the necessary verification,’ he said finally, but without raising his head.
‘Mum?’
‘You… you’ll make us very proud, Emily, dear.’ And she, too, seemed unable to meet my eyes, hiding instead behind her short fringe of black hair, while she gazed at my toes. ‘In some ways it’s a great honour, a chance to… help…’ The last word caught in her mouth. She struggled to get it out. Her head flicked up and she stared straight at me, her eyes desperate, asking me to understand. ‘It’s all set up, you see.’
‘Set up?’
‘She means that you have no choice,’ Niyabenne said, checking his watch. ‘And you have little time, either. I’m afraid you will come with us. Now.’
He laid a restraining hand on my shoulder. I shook it off. A nod of his head saw the two black-suited men step forward, grabbing me by my arms. ‘Hey!’ I shouted, struggling against them.
My father took a step closer to Niyabenne, his body tensed, eyes shining bright. ‘Do not touch her.’
‘I don’t obey your orders.’
Dad opened his mouth, but Niyabenne cut off any further protest with just a gesture. ‘I do apologise, Mr Forias,’ he said, inclining his head at the two escorts, ‘but you have no power in this room, in this moment. We are taking your daughter, by force, if necessary.’
A flinch ran down one side of my father’s face. He stilled it, until both sides were blank. ‘I see,’ he said, and then, after a moment: ‘Emily, go with them. Don’t make this difficult.’
My heart dropped. Where was the man who had told me off with kindly authority, just minutes before? What had happened to him? Where was my dad?
I didn’t resist when they pulled me out of the living room. Neither did my parents. Dad pinned his gaze on empty space. He still didn’t look at me. He couldn’t or wouldn’t or… I didn’t know what. Mum froze. She kept her eyes fixed on mine. Her left hand gripped her own cheek, leaving white streaks where her nails dug in.
Something snapped as soon as they had me out in the hallway. ‘Let me go!’ I screamed. ‘Let me back!’
My parents would hear my shouts. They’d come get me…
Or I’d get to them. If I could get back to the living room, everything would reset and make sense again! So I clawed at the hands and arms that gripped me, raking away flesh and blood. I threw my elbows into any flesh I could reach.
One man grunted in pain, but the grip didn’t lessen. They dragged me forwards and hurled me out through the front door. I landed hard in the grass of our front garden, the ground damp beneath my knees. My ponytail came loose and a roaring erupted in my brain, snarling its defiance. Jam-streaked hair hung in front of my eyes, glinting in the mock sunset.
‘I won’t let you take me.’
‘You have no other option. I’m sorry.’
One of the lackeys approached me. His movements seemed to slow down in my head, for in just one moment, I was on my feet, my arm swinging forwards, fist outstretched, until I sank it in the weak flesh of his stomach. The man crumpled.
Strong arms grabbed me from behind. They pinned me against a body, quashing the rush of victory. I struggled. The roaring in my ears rose until my temples throbbed in red agony.
‘Cease,’ ordered the leader, still standing in front. ‘This will do you no good.’
All my anger pinned itself on the man, who continued to look at me with abhorrent blankness. My gaze fell lower, fixing on his throat as some animal instinct whispered in my ear:
Throbbing pulse... thin skin between... vulnerable... and weak...
The air burnt crimson around me. Niyabenne’s eyes widened. He clutched at the skin above his windpipe, tiny gagging noises escaping through his fingers. I didn’t understand what was happening, but then, I didn’t really care. He was hurting. That was enough.
‘Inject her,’ the leader croaked. ‘Now!’
The first lackey ran forward, recovered; it seemed I hadn’t punched him hard enough. He pulled a small pressurizer from his belt and jabbed the device into the flesh of my neck. I had no time to react. The tell-tale hiss rang out. Whatever was in the pressurizer had been forced into my bloodstream.
The sense of power slipped away, like a sandcastle against the tide, and I was left alone, with just my fear for company.
‘What was that?’
Niyabenne rubbed his throat gingerly, ignoring me entirely. ‘My thanks,’ he said, nodding at his two colleagues. ‘Now let’s get on. We don’t want to be late.’
My head started to spin. Was that the effect of the drug? Or of everything else? What had it done? What had I done? The questions continued to assail me and I had answers for none of them.
They frog-marched me through our residential unit, past the immaculate lawns of our neighbours and past the house of Mrs Matthieson, whose garden was full of hyacinths and whose curtain twitched as I stared across.
‘Where are you taking me?’ I shouted, my hands curling into fists. ‘What right do you have?’
They all ignored me. As we reached the pod terminal, I cast my eyes around, searching for a way free. A trail of water dripped down the wall on my left, peeling back some of the tiling to reveal the black gleam of igneous rock. But the inevitable work crew wasn't here quite yet and the unit was utterly empty. The only friendly face in sight was the two-dimensional face of the pod help desk, which greeted us as we approached. Her name was Beth and she'd always been kind to me. It was absurd, but I longed to scream to her, to beg for her help.
They pushed me through the pod doors and right to the back of the metallic recess, which was only just big enough to hold all four of us. I shrank against the furthest wall while the three figures loomed in front of me, all chance of escape blocked.
Somewhere at the corner of my vision, Niyabenne leant down, tapping at keys on the onboard computer. We shot off sideways. The movement jolted me off balance, so that I sank dizzily to the floor, a grey static edging in to soak away my vision. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around myself, pretending, with all the strength I had, that I was somewhere other than here. Yet the whirring motion of our pod continued. Each passing second tore me further from my home.