All or Nothing (32 page)

And a USB stick.

Bingo!

Rupert took it out and laid it on the desk. Looking at the monitor, he realised that the desktop part of the computer was built into it. He turned it to the side and located several USB ports. He placed the USB stick into one of them and the computer made a clinking noise to indicate that the USB drive was active. He spun the screen around again. The USB stick’s contents were there on the screen. He dragged both folders on the desktop onto the USB. After a few seconds everything was copied. He removed the USB and put it in his pocket. He then deleted the files on the computer, then emptied the Recycle Bin to ensure that the files could not be easily recovered, if they were recoverable at all.

He opened up the camera shots again. He scanned through a few of them. He frowned when he realised that these shots were not familiar. The screen before him was different, divided into four panes. One was blacked out, where he had left off a moment ago. The other three were still on.

There was movement on these three squares. He opened them up one by one. Rupert tried to conceal his anger. The shots before him showed different people. He didn’t know them from Adam but it looked as if John had been watching them.

Or someone else had.

A young woman’s body lay crumpled on the ground. A stouter woman stood beside her, smoking a cigarette.

The next screen showed a man and a woman surrounded by a number of bald men, who weren’t moving.

And the third one showed a bloody Chinese man lying on what looked like a kitchen floor.

Were there others
?

Rupert felt the vomit rising from his stomach, it burnt his throat a second before he turned from the computer and vomited on the carpet. After two minutes, he returned to the screen. The three scenes in their separate panes were still there.

John
, he thought,
what the fuck have you done?

Nothing was moving on the scenes on his monitor. Rupert zoomed in on each, but nothing new was revealed. Was this the reason for the other domes? Did John have revenge plans prepared for other people too?

Wait,
he reasoned to himself.

The Game?

Were these poor unfortunates the other participants? If they were, they were presumably being controlled from some other location.

In the same way that he was being controlled here,
was
being the crucial word.

Rupert rubbed his head and thought hard. This was even bigger than he thought. If this business was being conducted in secret, who the hell organised it? Why hadn’t it been shut down?

He ran his hands down his face.

DING.

Rupert looked up. He recognised the noise of the ascending lift. Someone was coming. Rupert hit the monitor button, throwing the room into complete darkness, although he was still backlit by the window. Where could he go? Not under the desk, for it was open on both sides, and he would be spotted immediately. He looked around and discovered, for the first time, a door in an alcove. He left his briefcase under the desk, satisfied that it wouldn’t look out of place, and removed the coat, draping it over the chair. He ran to the alcove door and opened it.

He waited. Then shadows danced outside the office door and he heard footsteps muffled by the carpet. He stepped through the door and closed it, leaving it ajar. The alcove would hopefully deter anyone from coming over. Rupert waited.

The newcomer was now in the office. He could see shadows moving about in the room. Whoever was in the room was deft, silent and quick. Or trained. Rupert decided it was the latter, he had seen too much to underestimate the abilities of anyone involved in all this – doing so had caught him out before.

After a few moments, Rupert exited the doorway, using the alcove for cover. Slowly, he peeked around the wall. The person had their back to him. They were bending down next to the sofa. Rupert stepped out from behind the alcove and bunched his fist. Slowly, he moved behind the stooping figure who was level with the coffee table. The person started to ease upwards from their crouch.

Rupert slammed his fist into the back of the head. He heard a small yelp as the body careened forward and the forehead smashed into the coffee table’s glass surface, shattering it. The noise was deafening as the glass exploded, chess pieces flew into the air, onto the sofa, and the floor. The body came to a rest on the floor, amid the debris. Everything settled finally, as a pawn rolled to a stop on the surface of a piece of glass.

He realised he was panting. Sweat was dripping from his face as he looked down at the damage. He stepped closer to see the body, and rolled it over with his foot.

It was a woman. She was Caucasian and slim, and was wearing a red apron. A woman whose body had been defined and toned by her job. Rupert had once read that the activity involved in cleaning burns off more calories than a bike ride, though he didn’t know if this was true. The life force was fading from her eyes as she lost her fight to live. A severe gash in her forehead indicated that the impact with the glass table had probably fractured her skull. Rupert felt a sense of overwhelming guilt. She was another innocent victim.

Damn you, John!

This isn’t John’s fault
, he realised to himself, and faced up to the fact that he had killed her.

Yes,
he conceded,
but it was John who put her in the line of danger.

Rupert moved back to the desk. Had the noise been overheard? He picked up the suitcase and left the office. As he reached the hallway, he heard the lift descend. Had it been summoned by someone? Rupert slipped the silver cards from his pocket. Gripping both of them in his sweaty palm, he swiped them against the LED panel on the wall. The left-hand lift continued to descend.

Come on, come on!

He frantically swiped the cards, but to no avail.

Suddenly, the doors of the right-hand lift opened.

“Welcome, Mr C. You are headed to HQ,”
said a voice from somewhere.

Rupert stood still, unsure what he had done. He realised each lift had a purpose, hence the two cards. He stepped into the right-hand lift. The doors closed smoothly behind him.

As the lift ascended, he thought he heard the left-hand lift start to ascend at the same time.

Rupert wondered where he was headed.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The clones hadn’t moved for some time. Kieran and Heather were standing on the platform, surrounded by the doppelgangers. Unsure of what to do, or how much danger they were facing, kept them rooted to the spot.

Kieran was taking everything in, calculating frantically. He was searching for an escape that wasn’t possible. The many bodies surrounding them were blocking his view, nevertheless, he remembered the control office and the tunnels behind them. He looked at the clones, trying to gauge their mood.

The bald creatures were standing, their gazes locked onto the young couple. Heather felt a chill travel up her spine. It felt as if every single clone was staring at them, their unnerving glares somehow shackling them, making it impossible to move. Their eyes had the power to penetrate deeply, as if they could see into a person’s soul. Heather felt her spine freeze with more chills of pure terror.

Kieran leant in, all too aware that any movement could upset the creatures. The clones followed his every movement with their eyes, their heads moving in unison a fraction of an inch to the right. Kieran was leaning close to Heather, so as to speak into her ear. “If we get a chance, we need to go for the tunnels,” he whispered urgently. “Going anywhere else means delay and would be pretty much suicidal. When I give the signal, we both run, got it?”

Heather nodded. As she did, the heads of the clones all moved a fraction up and a fraction down, as if they were mimicking her. Their focus was purely on Heather now. She swallowed. If they could understand English, then Kieran’s words had most likely been noted. If so, it would hardly be a secret that they’d decided to make a break for it. Heather said nothing.

Kieran understood why. The looks they were receiving carried even more threat, they were freaking him out. He dared taking a look behind him. The clones had swarmed in from behind and now had surrounded them, so that they had nowhere to go. He estimated there must have been about seventy of them in total.

Then Kieran realised something: they looked as if they were waiting for something.

What could it be?

Heather looked across at him with her eyebrows arched, as if she had reached the same conclusion.

A door opened. The sound was nearly lost, drowned out by the incongruent tiny sounds made by the throng of clones. Kieran heard the door and tapped Heather on the shoulder to alert her. The noise’s origin remained a mystery.

Then there was movement. The clones at the back started to move. At first, Kieran wasn’t sure why. Then Heather realised that they were making way for someone, parting to allow access. For tedious, long moments they waited for the clones to step aside, still feeling the scrutiny of all the eyes in the room.

How eerie it felt
, thought Kieran.

Finally, the front line of clones parted as a man stepped through the crowd. He was about six foot, similar in height to his silent companions, although one or two of the clones were slightly taller. His hair was kept short and styled immaculately, as if it was regularly groomed. Streaks of grey were noticeable in the hair, giving the man a distinguished look. His face was deeply tanned, indicating regular use of a tanning bed or regular vacations. He was clean shaven, with perfectly trimmed sideburns, while his teeth were a stunning white, evident as he smiled on his arrival. He wore a crisp black suit with a black shirt and a black tie. Kieran noticed that his shoes were brand new and gleaming, and altogether, the man radiated wealth and a pampered, but healthy lifestyle. As he walked, he rubbed his neck, displaying a golden Rolex watch on his tanned, muscular wrist. His stride exuded confidence.

He stopped walking. As the stranger looked down, the clones closed in around him. They were still once more. The enigmatic stranger lifted his chin and a smile touched his lips as the white teeth almost blinded Kieran.

“Hello,” the man addressed them.

Kieran and Heather looked at one another in confusion. They said nothing.

“Let me guess. Now, you must be Kieran.” The stranger pointed at him. “And you must be Heather?” His well-manicured finger aimed at Heather.

The looks on their faces displayed their total perplexity. For a moment, they said nothing.

Kieran spoke first. “Who are you?”

Mr Sparkling Teeth smiled. He loosened his Rolex on his wrist and then let it grip tightly again. “My name is Delta. Unknown to you, I have been watching your little show here. I have to say, I am impressed.”

Heather swallowed. “Show? What show?”

Delta smiled. “This – all of this – is a show.” He pointed to the ceiling and sketched out a half circle to indicate the bigger picture. The confusion was clear on their faces.

“Get to the point, fella,” Kieran pressed him. “What the hell do you mean, a show?”

Delta sighed. “I thought you were smart, Kieran, and you've showed remarkable guts during this run. I've seen a few games played like this, but yours was almost perfect.”

The younger man stepped forward, annoyed by the man’s obtuse talk. As he did, seven clones stepped up behind Delta. Kieran stopped, one foot in mid-air before retracing his steps. The clones returned too.

It was a stalemate.

“Ah, Kieran, I said
almost
perfect. Personally, I hate violence. Such a coward’s way out. It’s a way of life though, without violence we have no food chain, no chaos theory. Without violence, no one evolves. Without violence, everyone sees eye to eye. Society is boring without it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Shall we start from the beginning?”

Kieran and Heather exchanged a look. They nodded, silent

“Good, let’s keep this civil.” Delta turned to the clones. “Gentlemen? If you please?”

The clones moved away from Kieran and Heather, revealing the benches on the station platform.

“Please, sit.” Delta held a hand out to indicate the benches. After a little hesitation, Heather sat down. Kieran remained standing. Delta fixed him with a stare. “Fine, don’t sit then. No skin off my nose.”

Kieran felt a knot form in his jaw muscles. He noticed the clones stepping off the platform, onto the rails below. Heather saw it too and gripped him by the forearm.

“Let the man speak,” the woman urged Kieran. “It’s obvious we’re here for that reason.”

Kieran calmed down a bit. He shrugged off Heather’s hand.

“Now, where were we?” Delta resumed. “Oh yes. Right, Heather, Kieran. Just imagine a world where the only stakes are the highest possible. When I say high, I mean, if you win, you're a champion. If you lose, your life isn’t worth living. Imagine a society where this pace of life is king. No balance, no halfway measures. Can you imagine it?”

There was no response. Delta smiled again. “You’re a tough crowd to convince. Anyway, your response says it all. It couldn’t happen, could it? Society would crumble within a week. People, weak as they are, wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure. Suicides would be at an all-time high. After a while, the idea of society would be moot. In a life where it is all or nothing, the weak wouldn’t survive and there wouldn’t be enough of the strong for society to function.”

Kieran nodded. “Okay, I can see that.”

Delta unbuttoned his jacket and took it off. He folded it neatly and placed it into the arms of a waiting clone. He moved closer to the young couple. “So, obviously, for this kind of existence to occur, we needed a trial period. A probationary period, a ‘pilot’ so to speak. Like a new ground-breaking TV show. You get a test audience and see if it's a viable commodity.  And when I say ‘we’, I mean an elite group of people, including myself and some influential upstanding pillars in certain communities.”

Heather laughed. “No way. Look, I’m not being funny, Mr.—”

“—Delta.” He finished her sentence. Delta rubbed his chin, listening.

“Mr. Delta, as I say, I’m not being funny, but no one in their right mind would sanction such nonsense. It couldn’t possibly work. Society isn’t that controlled.”

Delta gave a patronising grin. “You're right, Heather, it isn’t. Society is a mess. Did you know that the average IQ has dropped within a range of twenty to thirty over the past decade? That’s the average. When polled, people in society openly admit to not being able to read and write. Schools are still teaching these essential tools to people, but in a world dominated by social media, the internet and technology that spell-checks everything for you, people are having their hands held every day. What’s the point in teaching people to read and write when their second language is gibberish? I mean, have you seen the way some people speak to each other? LOL this, YOLO that. It’s bollocks.”

Kieran chose to disagree: “No. The youth of today are just finding an identity for themselves, it’s the natural progression of things.”

Delta shook his head. “No, it’s not. I know a guy who doesn’t even know where Scotland is. I had a person question the legitimacy of a place called Teesside, which is one of the biggest localities in the United Kingdom. An identity is something that personalises you, tells people who you are. When you don’t know where Scotland is, that’s not an identity, it’s a problem. It’s not listening at school or flunking out or not paying attention because you live in a lazy, idealistic society where everything is decided for you. Want a job? Don’t worry, our benefits system will relieve you of the need to get one. Want to run for President? Google it and in a week you can learn everything you need. Want to hold a conversation in public? No need, we can do it on Facebook. Society is lazy. People don’t do anything for themselves nowadays. That’s why we decided to do something about it.”

Heather stood up. “Fair enough, society has, shall we say, deteriorated over the last few years. It's evident it would happen at some point. But no one can change that. Society is free and people can choose to do what they want. They listen to their own music, choose their path in life and certainly don’t look to others to guide them. It’s freedom in its purest form.”

“That’s true, of course. But isn’t it also true that people have been blindly following false prophets for centuries? You say people don’t want to be guided. Let’s take religion, for example. If you want an example of lazy guidance, the blind being led by the imaginary, religion is a prime example of this. A highly irrational belief in something that may or may not exist. Society is always screaming for guidance. Whether it is obviously done in a church or secretly coveted by all humans, it is a core part of the human existence. A sizeable majority of people always look to others to lead them. No one wants to be the first person to try the newest fad. It’s a lemming complex.”

Kieran laughed. “You can’t say that about religion. People have been following their particular faith for hundreds of years. People sometimes need faith. The human race, sometimes, isn’t a nice thing to belong to. Some people need faith to get them through the tough times—”

“— And that is where the weak come into it again,” Delta cut him off. “Surely, if you can’t live your own life, on your terms, then it can’t be called a life? You might as well be a puppet. Ever heard of peer pressure? But I digress.”

The sophisticated stranger took a small flask from his pocket. He held it out to Kieran and Heather. Both declined. Delta sipped it and sluiced the liquid around his mouth. He placed the flask back in his pocket. He looked at the clones around him, who hadn’t moved at all. They were all still focused on Heather and Kieran.

“As I was saying, we decided to do something about it. Now, I’m free to speak about this to you because at the moment, you are still in my show – I will come back to that – so I have complete control. The Company is a secret organisation. When I say secret, I mean they don’t exist. To the outside world they don’t exist, anyway. The Company is made up of a select number of people from around the world. Some are presidents, some are prime ministers. There are priests, teachers, business owners, bankers, celebrities, musicians, you name it, if they have enough money, they are probably involved in it. However, you have to pass a test to get in – which is where the show comes in.”

Kieran and Heather stared at Delta in bemused silence.

“The Game is the job interview of a lifetime. Every five years, four selected people from around the world participate in the ultimate online show. Their prize? A position in The Company. If they lose, well, that’s best not thought about. The Company can ruin your life, choose ways of destroying you. So basically, losing is not an option. It’s all or nothing. A Chronicle – that’s me in this case – has complete control over his unsuspecting Choice, in this case, you. In The Game, anything can happen. For example, you can kill, you can torture and you can place two unknowing people into a facility full of human clones and let them run the gauntlet.”

Delta watched their faces. It took ten seconds for both of them to realise what he’d said, but Heather reacted first. “You…you mean, this is some kind of a fucking game?”

“Bingo, sweet cheeks. Yes, it’s a game. The ultimate game.”

Silence filled the room. Kieran stood up. “I should fucking kill you.”

Delta didn’t flinch. “Now, now, I would say you’re seriously outmanned, so keep that temper in check. Besides, I'm sure you have some questions, don’t you? I would, if I were you. After all, this is pretty impressive.”