The Embers of Hope: A science-fiction thriller (Hibernation Series Book 2) Page 14

  Reyland smiled. ‘Do you trust me, Zido?’

  ‘With my life,’ she replied.

  ‘And what if I asked you to jump?’

  The low hum of the force field stopped and the view sharpened.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Zido asked.

  ‘What would you do if I told you to jump?’

  Zitagi stepped back an inch and considered the question. Reyland’s face was stern and cold.

  ‘I would jump, Sir.’

  ‘Why? Because I told you to?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Because I trust you, because I know there would be a net waiting for me, that you wouldn’t ask to me to jump to my death.’

  Reyland eyeballed her. His face sank a little and he frowned. It seemed to take an age but eventually it became a smile. The shield buzzed back into life and Reyland held her shoulders and for a moment Zido understood what it might feel like to have a father, to have him be proud of her.

  ‘Zido,’ he said. ‘When we first designed Hibernation it was going to save us. We all believed in it. Hibernation was so smart, so in tune with everything else, the advancements in technology and energy. It felt like we had a chance.’

  ‘Had a chance?’ Zitagi heard herself saying. ‘What do you mean?’

  Reyland looked out over the city. ‘It’s all over, has been for some time.’

  ‘What’s over?’

  ‘We nearly blew this planet to pieces in 2058.’ He pinched his finger and thumb together. ‘We were that close to a war that would have ended us. Then the Superflu threatened to wipe us out. I have sometimes wondered if it might have been better to go out that way.’ He continued his slow walk around the edge of the building. ‘Then came the zoning and Hibernation and a sense of hope.’ He searched her eyes. ‘We thought we had a chance, really we did, but it was too late, we had gone way beyond the tipping point, and there was no going back.’

  Zitagi was shaking her head. ‘Hibernation is going to save us – not all of us, but the zones, the UN?’

  ‘In a way that’s still true. Originally we believed it could save us. We all believed it. Jameson meant what he said. We needed to innovate and Hibernation was it. When that damn device showed up I was convinced it was a sign. The Histeridae helped us to unlock the human mind, enabled Hibernation, for God’s sake.’ He paused and sighed. ‘But then the dimming, worse than predicted. The more we cleaned up our act the worse it became. When we knew the planet was in rapid decline we decided to continue with Hibernation, to give mankind a chance.’

  Zitagi was spinning. ‘But you said it was all over? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Can you imagine what would happen if people knew the truth? Knew there was no hope? The world would turn on itself and begin fighting for the scraps.’ He paused and sighed. ‘If we were going to survive then we needed to avoid the anarchy that comes with fear. We needed to control them.’

  ‘How long?’ Zitagi whispered, the first of many questions.

  ‘You mean how long do we have left?’

  She nodded.

  ‘A hundred years, maybe.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘The place heats up fast, we run out of everything, everyone dies.’

  Zitagi shook her head, it was typical of him to reduce the fate of mankind into a single, brutal phrase. ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ she gasped. ‘Why go to all the trouble of zoning and Hibernation if there’s no hope?’

  ‘We needed to maintain order. Hibernation bought us time and gave us control. It’s the fairest way.’

  ‘Fairest?’ Zido said. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Mankind’s reign is over. We are dying out, but unlike the dinosaurs, we have a choice about how we go. Our extinction was going to be a slow and painful one, filled with suffering, starvation and murder. Imagine, after everything we’ve done, everything we have achieved, mankind blinking out of existence like that.’

  Zitagi didn’t say a word. Her ears were banging and she felt weak. The blood had sunk from her face like sand into the bottom of a glass. These would ordinarily be the ramblings of a madman, but it was Victor Reyland. Suddenly it became clear what he was saying; the truth pierced the gaps in her life, shattering the illusion that so much of it had been built upon. She was being told that our species were done and the best thing was to let them go quietly, let them die in their sleep.

  It’s the fairest thing.

  ‘Euthanasia,’ she whispered to the stars. ‘We’re putting them all to sleep.’

  Reyland’s hands returned to her shoulders and he held her firmly. ‘In a way, yes – to save us.’ He ducked his head and caught her gaze. ‘Mankind must not die, Zido.’

  She nodded thoughtfully and then realised that his words didn’t match the doomsday scenario he had painted.

  ‘But you just said –’

  ‘I want you to take a moment to think about it. Think about the Earth as a barren rock, not one single human being left in the universe. Just think about it.’

  She did. She thought about it a lot.

  ‘We have come so far as a species, achieved so many great things, but it came at a great cost: the planet itself. We destroyed our home, Zido, right at the point where we had finally figured out how to live on it. You need to understand, there was no choice.’

  ‘There’s always a choice.’

  ‘You’re right.’ He smiled in admiration. ‘Of course, and often those choices are hard. What is right is often the hardest of them all. Should we have announced to the world that it was too late? Or tell them all it’s going to be okay and let them spend their last few years in peaceful ignorance? No, Zido, this time there was only ever one way. We have ensured mankind’s future.’

  ‘What future? You said it yourself, it’s over.’

  ‘For them,’ he replied, slowly and carefully. ‘Not for us.’

  Chapter 36

  Nathan arrived at Holland Park just after 9pm. The driver – an artificial with impeccable local knowledge – had insisted on talking constantly, his thick Cockney accent rattling through Nathan’s delicate brain like knives. It was the last thing he needed, but since arriving at the park things had improved.

  It was one of a handful of gardens that had survived the post-zoning land grab, and it was stunning. Nathan wandered along its wide pathways and soaked up the ambience. He walked towards the Japanese-style Kyoto Garden, the surrounding trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. It was well-lit and peaceful. He had been right; this was a good way to combat some of the effects of splintering, a good enhancement to the meds. He sunk twenty minutes into a steady stroll and by the time he arrived at the meeting point his mind was finally still.

  He spotted Paul, seated on a bench in the shadow of an Acer tree. He was facing a pond, which was lit all around by flickering lights that gave the impression of candles. Nathan joined him. Paul was dressed casually in a long jacket and trousers but somehow still managed to look like a priest.

  ‘This was a good choice,’ Paul said.

  ‘I’ve not been here before, but yes,’ Nathan replied. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  They sat for a while in silence. Nathan studied the pond, its authentic Japanese ornaments and ornate bridge, and felt a peace that had been absent for as long as he could remember.

  Eventually Nathan said, ‘You’ve been good to me, Paul. I’ve only known you a few weeks, but you’ve helped me.’ He paused. ‘It’s time we talked, properly I mean, truthfully.’

  Paul shifted a little and turned to face him. ‘I didn’t want to rush you, Nathan, but yes, I would welcome it.’

  ‘You said you have numbers, that you are growing,’ Nathan said. ‘I need to know what that actually means. How many? Where are you based?’

  Paul nodded, seemingly excited by the chance to explain. ‘Initially I wasn’t sure I could trust you, it isn’t the kind of thing you start a conversation with, but I meant what I said: whenever I have wondered what to do next something has come along, the missing piece in the
puzzle.’ He stopped and shook his head gently. ‘This time it was you.’ He looked up, as if to God. ‘Maybe there is a plan after all.’

  Nathan smiled. It was hard not to like the fake priest.

  ‘We started small,’ Paul continued, ‘but we’ve grown over time into organised units. We’re in most of the major cities – within the Independent zones, anyway – and there are some more extremist groups further out in the reaches. We have contact with them but aren’t directly affiliated.’ He stopped and frowned. ‘Is this what you wanted?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Nathan nodded. ‘I need to understand what I’m getting into.’

  Paul’s chest expanded with a deep breath. ‘It’s hard know for sure – I can move across the zones, the Independents and the reaches because of who I am, or who they think I am – but we are at least ten thousand strong.’

  ‘Paul,’ Nathan said, solemnly. ‘There’s a reason you helped me.’ He squinted, holding Paul’s attention. ‘I want you to tell me the truth.’

  Paul stared back at him. ‘Yes, there is.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about me.’

  ‘I know some,’ Paul admitted. ‘I was looking for you - specifically, I mean.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I knew some people in Brazil. Raul Ferreira was a friend, not close, but we had worked together.’ Paul blinked for a while, lost in memories but eventually regained his focus. ‘When his replication business got shut down, the bastards burnt it to the ground. The records went up in smoke but I had a list of names, the ones missing in action.’

  Nathan hadn’t expected this, many things, but not this. ‘What happened to me?’ Nathan searched for the right words. ‘I mean, the old me, my original body?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, everything is gone; your old body would have perished in the fire.’

  Nathan had suspected, but not dared dwell on the idea. Swapping back might have been his last hope of avoiding the final stages of splintering – not that it had ever really been an option – but now even that was gone, a distant dream turned to ash. Nathan shivered.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Paul said. ‘Are you alright?’

  Nathan nodded. ‘Just hard to imagine, my old body gone, stuck in this one.’

  ‘And you’re splintering, aren’t you.’

  Nathan stared out at the pond. ‘You can tell?’

  Paul explained that although Raul Ferreira had run a professional business in Brazil – illegal, but decent in terms of standards – it was only ever supposed to be short-term swapping for those who could afford it.

  ‘I’ve seen it once before,’ Paul said solemnly. ‘You’re actually doing well considering how long it’s been.’

  ‘I have medication, it’s helping.’

  The loss of Nathan’s original body was the least of his worries; it was the mind swap that wasn’t built to last, it was a hire that had turned into a permanent arrangement. He felt his heart miss a beat. There was literally no going back now and it felt strange, like he had just heard about the death of a brother, one he’d never known; a big deal and yet void of any real emotion. Beneath the bridge, koi carp cruised under the water’s surface like orange and white submarines.

  He turned to Paul. ‘I still don’t understand how you found me.’

  ‘For a long time I presumed you were dead, but then you popped up, asking questions and searching for someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Zido Zitagi.’ It was clear Paul didn’t enjoy saying the name. ‘I have connections and when you asked about her you made it onto my radar, loud and clear.’

  Radar, loud and clear – old-fashioned terms, but Nathan understood. ‘Can you get me to her?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s a tough one,’ Paul sighed. ‘The simple fact that you knew her name told me you were in deep.’ He stared at Nathan. ‘Don’t look so glum. The main thing is the Government aren’t after you specifically. If they were, you would be dead by now.’

  Nathan nodded, reluctantly. It felt as though time were running away like water through his fingers. The days of second-guessing and tentative decision-making were over, it was time to trust; there was no other choice. He rubbed a hand over his stubble, shifted to face Paul and said, ‘They might be interested if they knew what I’d done and where I’d been.’

  Paul raised an eyebrow. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Ever heard of the Shiryaevo Vault?’

  ‘Of course,’ Paul replied, innocently. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I was there,’ Nathan said. ‘It was me.’

  Chapter 37

  The ship drifted almost silently through clouds, just the whistling hum of engines. Zitagi looked over at Reyland, who nodded, one corner of his mouth upturned into a kind of smile. She returned the gesture but felt her stomach sink again. She had known him a long time, but now wondered how much of him sat below the surface. She stared out of the window, her mind drifting into the past.

  She had spent the first ten years of her life as a nobody’s child. It was a vague period of time filled with institutions and a conveyor belt of faces, some kind, some not so, most merely functional. The kind ones – although she supposed they meant well – would make promises they couldn’t keep, so Zido had learned to trust no one. It was easier that way.

  The years she could remember clearly were spent in an orphanage in Japan. These, she considered to be her ‘formative’ years, where she learned to live alone, to reflect the world and not care, tempering herself like the finest Japanese steel.

  By the time Reyland found her she was nineteen and already skilled in the art of combat. He took her to another level, taught her that with focus and dedication she could achieve great things. Zido, an intense young girl who had never belonged, never fitted in, finally found her place in the world.

  Where is that place now? she wondered, the wind rushing past at impossible speed. Slowly the clouds thinned, like steam rising from her past, revealing their destination: the Konstantin Spacelift, so named after the Russian scientist who first explored the unbelievable idea of tugging lumps of metal around the earth like a never-ending shot-put.

  All thoughts of the past were gone as she gazed at the lift. It rose up from the ground and joined the just-visible International Space Station in a geostationary orbit. The Space Station – or Hub, as it had become known – was an orbiting city, home to hundreds of astronauts, a permanent link between Earth and the moon, enabling space travel without the expensive overhead of leaving Earth’s gravitational pull. Zido watched a singular pod travel the lift, rising up like a bubble of oil travelling a thick metal vein.

  ‘You told me they’re empty. Why?’ she said, breaking a silence that had lasted twenty minutes.

  ‘We needed people to believe we were using energy from the moon, when in fact we’ve been using the last of Earth’s resources.’ He absently shook his head, as if the idea wasn’t a big deal at all. ‘It won’t matter in the end.’

  ‘So it’s all just a facade?’

  ‘Not all,’ he said. ‘They come down empty but they go up full.’

  Zido decided not to ask any more questions. Her head was pounding with them, but she knew Reyland would tell her in his own time. The ship approached a docking platform, one that appeared to be at the midpoint of the lift, and entered its final descent.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Zido asked.

  ‘I told you, I want you to see for yourself.’

  They disembarked, stepping out onto a long walkway, a transparent tube, revealing the Earth below. Reyland explained they were several thousand miles up, and Zido felt her stomach drop and her legs voice their concern. The land below was a patchwork of dark colours, dotted with golden lights. She scanned the horizon and saw the curvature of the planet, blended white, blue and black. Heights weren’t usually a problem for her, but this felt like an entirely different experience. She saw another of the cargo pods slide past and out of sight like a giant metal egg dropping to earth.

  Guards saluted
as they approached a doorway at the end of the platform. A hatch hissed open and they entered a lift big enough to hold fifty people, but today it was just them. Above the lift was clear glass, and when she looked up she gasped, her heart rising in her chest. The lift, a thick central cable constructed from nanotubes, disappeared into what seemed to be infinite black space. At the centre of this strange illusion was the familiar shape of the Hub. All around, stars were visible.

  ‘I wanted to show you myself,’ Reyland whispered, seeming to glow at her reaction. ‘It’s important to me.’

  She turned to him and wondered if what he felt for her was a strange kind of love; not a sexual one, but a partnership. She had always felt something between them, like an arranged marriage born of mutual respect, one that worked on a businesslike level. She had known a few people who seemed to have that kind of deal. No chemistry, no tenderness, but a respect so strong it bonded them together.

  The lift began. There was no jolt, just a sudden and brilliant rush of speed. They ascended so quickly that Zido didn’t even notice the last blue hues of Earth shift to the blackness of space, but twenty minutes later that’s all there was. Looking down she saw what many astronauts had described in a multitude of different ways. From this height the Earth was an incredible sight to behold, a ball of life so perfect that she could feel its beauty within her. She had always struggled to express or understand these emotions – and she wasn’t going to start now – but felt it nonetheless: an overwhelming appreciation of Earth, our home.

  A home that’s finished with us.

  She felt Reyland’s hand on her arm. He was looking up, and when she did the same the sight took her breath away. They were close to the Hub now and there, bigger than she had ever seen it, was the moon, glorious and radiant. Zido Zitagi was a cold-blooded killer, an assassin of great skill, yet she found herself pulled back to an all-too-brief period of innocence. A time when she would look up at the moon and dream. Back then, it was a symbol of eternal life, a constant force when all around her was constantly shifting. The moon had existed forever; it was as consistent and familiar as her own reflection, yet now, as a woman with the world miles below her, she saw it anew and it was calling her.