Sequela (14 page)

'Well,' Kester said doubtfully.

A shriek of high pitched laughter made the speaker on his Book rattle.

-o-

For the next few days, Alexis Farrell kept a dedicated display on her desk for the lab. It was a curious fisheye view from the corner of the lab above Kester's office door, its only blind spot the benches on the far side of the central hub.

To begin with, Kester worked alone in the centre of the lab. Farrell smiled whenever she saw him there – leading from within a non-existent team, setting a sterling example to the fixtures and fittings around him. He looked like a cartoon character with his messy just-out-of-bed hair and
dishevelled
labcoat, attractive in his disarray, more like a band member than a scientist. His complete lack of awareness of his cool was charming.

Farrell timed her visits for moments when he was starting to look distracted. By the time she returned to her crow's nest he was always back at the centre bench, working with renewed enthusiasm. These small ego boosts were working for him, fuelling his confidence and with it his ambition. She was going to make him a star and in return he would propel her to the heights of V Global; the more inspiration she could provide, the smoother the ride would be.

The fitters came and went from Kester's suite as he worked,
customising
it to his steadily multiplying wishes. Gerald began to appear on camera more and more frequently, coming and going between departments, at first alone and then, as they became useful, with others to introduce. The activity in the lab grew slowly outwards from Kester, its
epicentre
. Racks, vials and reports multiplied, spreading out across the lab. One by one people filled the chairs around him.

Two weeks in, Kester's work projection for the next six months landed in Farrell's inbox along with a request for additional test models. Three weeks in, his office and quarters were pretty much finished and the lab was comfortably full. He had stopped returning to his flat in the evenings.

'Lady wants to see you, babe,' Tim said, leaning into the dressing room.

'Me?' Marlene called from behind the rail and inside a wool dress that was refusing to fit.

'No, darling – Cherry.' Tim shook his head. 'Come on,' he said, looking back to Cherry.

'What are you? My escort?'

'I thought I'd walk you along. You never know what dodgy characters are hanging around in those corridors.'

Cherry rolled her eyes. 'Let me get some shoes first.'

'Those red ones.'

'Not too much?'

'If you're going to the corner shop, maybe.'

Cherry had managed to bagsy the black and red dress again and the shoes would go well. She grabbed them and slipped them on.

As they walked through the corridor, Tim took Cherry's hand.

'You're my little sweetie, you know,' he said.

'You're acting weird,' Cherry said. 'Who's she got in there?'

Tim looked at his feet for a few paces before he answered.

'Some stiffs from the Real Church.'

'Is that all? So what are you worried about? What do you think she's going to do to me? Send me to a nunnery?' She laughed.

When they got to the narrow corridor that led down to Lady's rooms, Tim stopped.

'I just hope you haven't been poking your nose into anything you shouldn't have.' He ducked towards the wall as he thought he heard Lady's door opening. 'I'm supposed to be out already.'

'Run along then spooky.'

Tim pecked Cherry on the cheek, smacked her on the arse, then skipped off down the corridor. She watched him for a moment. He was like a little inverted comma, lithe and light, seeming to spend more of his time off the ground than on it. His tunic just skimmed his narrow hips. He was just bone and muscle underneath, sculpted. Cherry couldn't imagine him really doing anything with a client. Except perhaps standing in the corner of the room holding to his lips their chosen piece of fruit, posed like a statue, motion captured. That, she could see. He glanced back over his shoulder. People never let him walk away without watching him go and he knew it. She laughed and turned to walk to Lady's office.

It was twelve more paces to Lady's door. Just enough to get nervous. The Real Church? Cheerful face of Christian fundamentalism. What were they doing here? Had Tim been serious or was his imagination getting the better of him? What could they want with her? She stopped for a few long breaths before she knocked on the door. She could hear that there were two men in there talking to Lady, but she couldn't hear what about. She knocked.

'Come!' called Lady.

Cherry opened the door slowly, poking her head in first, body following after. There were two men seated on straight-backed wooden chairs opposite the sofa. They didn't look particularly clerical to her. At any rate they didn't look anything like the men who preached on the web. They weren't plastic enough. Lady was sitting neatly on a third chair alongside them, so that they made a semi-circle in front of the couch. It looked ominous to Cherry. It was set out like an interview, an interrogation maybe. Lady indicated the couch. Cherry walked over, sat down and gathered her dress neatly around her legs. She pressed her knees together and held them with her hands.

'I'm sorry, Lady, I haven't had time to do my hair and face.'

'Don't worry, Cherry dear, these gentlemen aren't clients,' Lady said.

A buzz rushed up the back of Cherry's neck. Not clients. She looked at the two men. One was tall and thin, one short and fat, like a straight man and his comedy sidekick, except that they both had stern, concerned faces. They were both dressed modestly in loose garb more befitting of monks than the showmen preachers she was used to – though the short man's clothes, obviously designed to be loose-fitting, stretched uncomfortably across his paunch. Their clothing was beige. The only things she could see that connected them to any church were the Real Church clockwork symbol pendants that hung round their necks.

Lady introduced them formally.

'Gentlemen, this is Cherry. Cherry, these are Ministers Clarke and Blotch.'

Clarke and Blotch. To Cherry it sounded like one of those ridiculous City firms.

'Ministers Clarke and Blotch are here to ask for co-operation from the Hospital. I wanted to introduce you to them as you have qualities that I believe they will be interested in.'

'My nanoscreen.'

'There are many things which mark you out from the other girls here, Cherry. Your nanoscreen is one of them, but in this case it's your looks and your trustworthiness that the gentlemen are interested in.' Lady spoke as if reading from an autocue.

Cherry gave a puzzled frown.

The tall man, Clarke, touched his pendant and took a long breath. The fat man, Blotch, was looking at the floor beside his chair.

'Cherry. A pleasure to meet you.' Clarke's voice was deep and thrilled Cherry unexpectedly, rattling her voice box. 'Thank you for agreeing to meet with us today. We know that you are…a busy woman. I wanted to tell you a little about our project. How much do you know about the Church?'

'Which church?' Cherry asked, holding a straight face.

The men looked pained, as if they had both caught wind of an unpleasant smell.

'
The
Real
Church,' Clarke said, touching his necklet again. 'The only true church.'

'Of course,' Lady said, leaning towards him and smiling. Her hands began to wander and though she clasped them firmly on her lap they continued to strain and twitch against one another.

'Of course,' Cherry repeated, 'but you know how it is, all these organisations calling themselves churches.'

'Oh, we know.' Clarke shook his head sadly. The wrinkles on one side of his face and then the other deepened in turn with the movement of his head.

'Cherry,' Lady said, catching her eye.

Cherry closed her mouth and smiled, putting on her best listening face.

'As you will no doubt know,' Clarke said, 'the Real Church is working to re-establish a presence in the City in order to help the poor fallen souls who live and work there.'

'Poor in the spiritual sense.' Blotch made his first contribution to the conversation, but continued to look at the floor.

'Yes. Thank you, Minister Blotch. We have made great inroads in the past but this year we are launching a more…aggressive approach to the problem.'

'Problem?' Cherry asked.

Lady shot her a sharp look.

'The problem of sin,' Clarke said.

Clarke was a kindly man, Cherry decided. He was more genuine than the shiny suits on the web.

'Sin abounds in the City and their sin affects us here on the Outside. It was their protected promiscuity that first saw the hideous diseases they wear emerging, their behaviour that has sparked the epidemic in STVs. Do you think you would be living in these conditions if it weren't for the City folk? Do you think the…' Clarke couldn't bring himself to say the word and touched his necklet. 'Your trade would be necessary if our land wasn't run by…' He looked to his portly compatriot to take up where he had left off.

'By a giant pen of filthy, sex-obsessed sinners.' Blotch burst into life, looking up. His eyes burned straight through Cherry's, focused on the hellfire he was visualising. 'By the fallen; by the worshippers of power, money and sin itself.' This sort of speech was a bit more familiar to Cherry. She could picture him in the lamé uniform of the web preachers, a bird all foiled up and cooking in its own rage.

'I see,' Cherry said.

Lady nodded and smiled approvingly.

'Have you heard, young lady, of designer viruses?' Blotch asked.

'I don't know. I suppose I might have heard something.'

'Have you heard, young lady, that the right hand of Satan himself is working in the City right now under the name Doctor Kester Lowe?' Blotch's voice and colour rose as he spat the word 'Doctor'.

'I don't think I did know that, no,' Cherry said, trying not to smile.

'Doctor Kester Lowe is a virus designer –' Clarke took over again, the move perhaps triggered by the obvious rise in his colleague's blood pressure, 'the designer chosen to head up V's new viral design department. Now, the department is currently recruiting for models.'

'Models?'

'Models to be used as test subjects for Doctor Lowe's new viruses and of course to eventually model the end result, presumably in some kind of photoshoot or public appearance – we don't yet know.'

'A fashion show,' Blotch conjectured, standing up. 'A show the likes of which has only ever been witnessed on the catwalks of hell!' White spittle flecks flew from the corners of his mouth as he spoke.

'I'll take it from here.' Clarke stood and laid a soft hand on Blotch's shoulder. 'Young lady, your kind benefactress has arranged for you to fill one of these
modelling
positions.'

'What?' Cherry glanced over at Lady in disbelief.

'The position will guarantee you City resident status for the duration of your employment with V, which Lady's contact has assured us will be lengthy, if not permanent in the contract sense. However, the position isn't without its responsibilities.' Clarke's brow furrowed. 'We would require you to pass regular reports to my colleague Blotch regarding the activities of the department and its employees.'

'Reports? You're asking me to spy on them for you?'

'That's rather an indelicate way of looking at it. We fear that V is straying into some unholy territory with their virus development and we just want a pair of eyes on the inside so that we can keep a handle on things.'

'Right…' Cherry drew out the word. She looked from Clarke to Blotch and back again.

'We know that this will be a big change for you but we'd ask that you consider our proposition seriously. It is, after all, an opportunity for absolution. It is a chance for you to leave behind your life of sin and start anew as an agent of the light.' Clarke took a breath and smiled. 'It was wonderful to meet you, Cherry.'

'I look forward to working with you,' said Blotch, 'should you choose to help us. And remember: if you do, yours will be the hand that saves every soul within those walls that can be saved.'

When they were gone, Cherry tucked one leg up underneath her, put her forehead down in her hand and thought hard. She took her Book out of her pocket, switched it on and stared at the picture of her mother. It was the perfect opportunity for her. But it wasn't right. Outside, she could hear Lady's tones soothing the churchmen down the corridor and out of the side doors.

'Cherry?' Lady came back in to the room.

'You really think this is wise?' Cherry asked.

Lady walked to the window to check that the Church men were out of earshot. They were back at their van across the car park. She waved at them with a tight, polite smile.

'What do you mean?' she said.

'Spying. What they're talking about is spying. It's not exactly your classic clean slate they're offering here.'

'Cherry, if you've any brains you'll take the chance you've been given. If you want to find out about your mother, the City is the place to do it. You know my advice on the matter, but there it is. Don't get me wrong – this is no favour. They needed a girl and you fitted the bill – that's all. If she was taller and narrower and had a screen I'd as soon have sent your friend Marlene. Anyone in this place would jump at this opportunity and you have more reason to than most. Don't be a fool. Do it.'

'So I go in there and find her, but what? I tar myself with the same brush in the process. Like mother, like daughter. Is that why you suggested me? Do they know?'

'Cherry, you'd just be taking a job and keeping your eyes open. It's hardly on the same scale as terrorism.'

'Alleged terrorism. Do they know?'

'Of course they know. So there'd be no snooping around while you are working for the Church. Nothing – you understand? You wait until this is all done and dusted. If you're lucky, you get to stay on long enough to investigate. But if they find out you have been snooping around, putting their operations at risk, they wouldn't hesitate to drop you in it. You wouldn't last long once it got out – you working for V, with your pedigree? I don't think so.'