Sequela (19 page)

Cherry entered the square on the south side and headed for the fountain at its centre. As she drew closer, she saw a door open at its base and two young men exited and went their separate ways. Bumping her way to the edge of the fountain, she saw that there were exchange booths all the way round. She checked the time. She was early. She climbed the stairs up the side of the fountain and dropped down to sit on its edge, where umpteen suits were eating pastries, legs dangling, occasionally knocked by the doors below. Moving her shoulders in a slow circle, feeling them crunch, she surveyed the square and enjoyed being still at the centre of it all.

She sat facing the famous V building. She had only seen it from the back and yet it was so familiar. Its violent façade was a universal symbol of big business. V, the giant with more pies than fingers. An image came into her mind: a chaotic room, a half-remembered half-constructed memory of a study, a large picture of the V building pinned to its wall, small notelets stuck all around it. A ghost from her half-remembered childhood. She was filled with a fondness for the building. Its symmetry and the rapier elegance of its lines pleased her. The V drew the eye down to what seemed like an impractically small entrance.

Out of the crowd two figures attracted Cherry's eye: a tall striking woman striding with purpose and a man who looked out of focus, less precise than the other figures. Cherry smiled as she watched him trying to keep up with the long-legged progress of his companion like a scruffy terrier running after a greyhound. She checked the time again. She wasn't supposed to start until ten, but judging by the size of the building, getting to the right floor might take some time. Hopping off the edge of the fountain, she made her way across the square to the front door.

The ground floor of the building was huge, almost empty. Cherry's eye was drawn by the back wall on which the image had just changed. It was showing a street scene. She paused and watched it for a moment. It wasn't London. The people were more tanned. The sunshine had a different quality. It was definitely a business district though: even at a distance she could see that the stars of the scene were wearing; they looked not quite right, set her teeth on edge. The clothes were ad-splattered just like they were in the square behind her, but they were even brasher, less concerned with fitting with the general look of the outfits.

'New York,' came a slightly tinny voice from behind the reception desk. 'The view from V Manhattan's front doors.'

Cherry looked over and smiled at the plastic receptionist. The scene changed again.

'Spain?' Cherry asked. In this scene the clothes fitted more neatly; the advertising was more discreet.

'Milan.' The image changed again. 'And that one's Glasgow.'

Looking back again, Cherry laughed. 'Of course.'

It was raining. The scene was all golf umbrellas and legs. Every second panel of each umbrella was given over to an ad or logo, one or two newer looking ones sporting moving ads on repeat. The man at the centre of the scene, his back turned, was twirling his umbrella over his shoulder, creating a hypnotic swirl of
colour
, a giant lollipop. It was like a sequence from a strange musical.

'Can I help you?' the receptionist asked.

'Yes, thank you.' Cherry turned back to her. 'It's my first day. I'm starting as a model for Doctor Lowe.'

'Lucky you,' the receptionist replied with a knowing smile. 'Just take a seat and I'll get someone to welcome you.' She indicated the silver cantilever swoosh in the middle of the tiled floor.

'That's a seat?' Cherry asked.

'Yes, a very expensive one.'

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at Cherry and then gave her a small smile.

'If you say so, but if I get thrown out for sitting on this thing…'

Leather soles clicked across the floor towards them.

'Gerald, I was just about to buzz you,' said the receptionist.

'I'm expecting someone,' said a man's voice, 'which means that you must be…'

Cherry turned to face the voice. It belonged to a man, youngish, good-looking, sort of. His hair was slicked back in too formal a way. He looked like someone out of the movies. She could imagine him in a sharp old-fashioned button-up suit, her in her print dress on his arm as he led her into a bright building – a bar, a theatre. She had seen him before, she recalled, at the testing centre. His face had appealed to her, though she couldn't really say why.

'Cherry,' she said extending a hand. 'Cherry Woodlock.'

'I'm Gerald. Nice to finally meet you.'

'That was good timing. Your receptionist had just persuaded me to sit on this lovely piece of art.'

Cherry winked at the receptionist and Gerald laughed.

'This way, please.' He led her to a small booth by the central hub of the building. 'If you would step inside please and stand still for a moment. This will just scan your biometrics. By the time we get upstairs the building should
recognise
you.'

Cocooned inside the lift, Gerald launched into a welcome monologue.

'Yes, I'm so glad to meet you. I've been welcoming all the models personally at Doctor Lowe's request. Of course, the professional models expect special treatment but to be honest we haven't managed to recruit so many of them this time round – they're not such fans of the quarantine policy. Our original models are tied in though, which is great – we need a few high-profile faces. And of course it's important for us to launch a few new careers too.' Gerald smiled pointedly at Cherry. 'Here we are.'

Gerald's monologue continued as he led Cherry through a featureless white corridor into a decontamination chamber, equally white. Here, he
apologised
.

'I'm afraid it's standard-issue garb from here on in,' he said, tipping his head to one side as if addressing someone important. He stretched out an arm towards the bank of white lockers. 'This locker is yours. It should – ah!'

It popped open as Cherry stepped towards it.

'Yes, good – you are officially one of us now. But watch. You need to step away quickly once you're finished or it gets all excited and thinks you want in again.'

'I know some people like that.'

Gerald blushed and swept a hand across his slick hair. Cherry looked in the locker. Hanging up was a white kimono, draped over a square hanger that had a pair of white knickers and a white sports-bra stretched around its frame. Beneath these sat a pair of fluffy white slippers.

'White,' Cherry said, the feeling of her terry
towelling
tunic suddenly there on her skin.

'White suits everyone!' Gerald's blush was gone and there was a twinkle in his eye. 'If you wouldn't mind?' He indicated the clothes – a request – then turned his back politely.

Cherry smiled to herself. This was the biggest show of manners she had experience in a long time. She quickly disrobed and folded her own clothes into a neat pile in the corner of the locker.

'Right. Done,' she said as she tied her kimono.

'Beautiful,' Gerald said as he turned. 'Great, I mean. Let's get straight to the testing suite.'

Cherry took in as much as she could as they crossed the lab floor. She was supposed to be finding things out, she reminded herself. Nothing she looked at meant anything – vials were all
labelled
with numbers; all the fancy swoop-down monitors had privacy filters on so that to see them you would have to stand directly behind the user; all the workers looked neat and respectable in their matching white labcoats and there was little chat going on.

'Welcome…Gerald. Welcome…Ms Woodlock,' came a voice as they reached the doors for the testing suite.

Gerald led Cherry into the suite and directly into a side room. Once inside he sealed the door, took his Book out and tapped it a couple of times.

'OK,' he said. 'Have a seat.'

Cherry looked around the close white room. There was a small table, a bench and a swivel chair, all white. She sat down on the bench.

'This is the only place in the building we can talk safely,' Gerald said. He sat down on the swivel chair and pulled a flat, white case from under the table top. Setting it down on the table, he opened it up to reveal a selection of packaged swabs, syringes and sample tubes. 'If you don't mind I'll get your initial checks and tests underway.'

'No problem.' Cherry eyed the syringes.

So that was the reason for his ceaseless talk in the lift: stopping her from talking.

'Why are you doing this Gerald?' Cherry asked. 'I mean why did you help get me the job?'

'Why?'

'Are you a
sympathiser
?'

'Listen,' Gerald said. His tone was serious, but not unpleasant. 'I said this was a place we could talk but – and don't take this the wrong way – I don't know exactly why you're here and I don't want to know. I'm just in it to keep myself in dental bleach and Brylcreem.' He avoided eye contact as if the conversation wasn't happening. Swabbing her inner arm he took up a syringe. 'Look away if you're squeamish. In a second you'll feel a scratch. There. I'm assuming that Lady hasn't just gone all altruistic and paid me to take you on for your own good. Just be careful and keep my name out of whatever it is you're doing.'

'Of course.' Cherry waited to see if he had more to say, but that seemed to be it. 'So how will this all work? The testing I mean. I don't know too much.'

'I suppose you don't,' Gerald replied, looking up at her. 'I'll send a copy of the original job spec to your Book.'

'My Book is about three hundred years old – that'll probably explode it.'

'Oh. Then we'll have to sort you out with a new one.'

Easy as that.

'Where to start then?' Gerald said. 'We've got a few initial tests to run and a bit of training to go through, so you'll be able to come and go for the first week or two depending on Doctor Lowe's plans. After that, once he's assigned you a virus, you'll be quarantined for the testing period. Test periods vary, but it might be anything from a few weeks to a few months. It all depends on the virus and the techniques the Doctor is employing…but you don't need to know about that.'

'And access to the web and that sort of thing? Can I phone people?'

'For the duration of any quarantine periods you'll be cut off from the outside world completely. Well, not completely – we have web terminals in the suites so that you can keep up with the news and receive incoming messages etc, but there's no outgoing data of any kind.

'Once the quarantine is over, you'll have a break of a few weeks or whatever fits in with the schedule – contract minimum is one week – the virus will be wiped from your system and you'll be allowed home. Of course you'll have recorded a non-disclosure statement regarding the nature of the virus that has been tested on you and any others you have seen during your time here.'

'Right.'

Cherry was starting to feel a bit woozy. Looking down she saw that Gerald had taken three vials of blood and was waiting for a fourth to fill.

'Are you alright?' he asked.

'Fine,' she replied, pulling herself up a little.

'Last one. I'll get you a sugary snack and a drink when we're done. I should show you where the refectory is anyway. After that, we'll meet Doctor Lowe, if he's back from his meeting.'

Gerald pressed a small ball of cotton wool to Cherry's arm and indicated to her to hold it. She held it in place with a tight pincer grip and watched Gerald as he arranged his vials and tidied up his equipment. She had expected she might have some sort of ally or confidant in Gerald, but it looked like she was on her own. Shame, she reflected. His side-parted black hair was impossibly glossy. Again she was transported: this time she was holding his suited arm, giggling in a red-velveted cinema, silent movie music full of peril blaring out around them.

'You know you look the part,' Gerald said.

'Oh,' Cherry said, surprised. She looked down at her lab clothes. 'Lab rat chic, eh? Hard to carry off.'

'I didn't mean the clothes.' Gerald smiled at her then looked away.

'Thank you,' Cherry said.

-o-

Blotch looked both ways down the corridor before closing the door and returning to his desk. He opened up Cherry's first report, licking his lips.