Synthetica (18 page)

“
Please,”
Anais said, turning to the policewoman. “I'm almost done, I swear.
It's got everything to do with my friend, I promise.”

Officer Hughes' jaw was set. She did not look happy. But, perhaps
deciding that they'd already gone too far, she gave Anais a tiny nod
and released her, though she still hovered over the both of them.

“
I
believe you,” Anais said firmly to Marcus. “Marcus, there's one
more thing I need to know. Your SLP, the one you bought from Denzel,
does it still work? Can you still remember the information you
downloaded?”

Marcus frowned, but his look quickly turned to one of confusion as
he tried to recall the language he'd supposedly learnt.

“
N
– no. I – I can't remember any Spanish at all.”

He stared at Anais, horrified.

“
What's
going on?” he whispered.

“
I
think I know why you can't remember anything,” Anais said grimly.
“Whatever it was on that program, it wasn't just an SLP you
downloaded. Whatever it is, it messes with your brain so you can't
remember anything.”

Both Marcus and Officer Hughes were looking at her was though she
was crazy. With an unpleasant lurch in her stomach she remembered
that Officer Hughes didn't know about the SLPs.

“
How
do you know that?” he asked. Anais closed her eyes, composing
herself.

“
Dalla,”
she said simply, opening her eyes. “The day after we saw you,
Dalla went and bought one of those SLPs. But something's gone wrong.
She's in the hospital now, but that stupid program did something to
her brain...and now they don't know if she'll ever wake up.”

Anais' heart ached at the thought.

“
I'm
so sorry,” Marcus sounded stricken. “I didn't know – I thought
they were safe -”

“
It's
not your fault,” Anais said turning back to him. “You didn't
know this would happen. Listen – I might be able to help you, but
we've got to act fast. Do you think Denzel would tell me who else
has bought an SLP from him?”

“
Not
unless you can pay him.”

Anais half expected his answer and she sighed.

“
Well,
that can't be helped. So long as he talks, that's all I need,” she
said.

Officer Hughes, who had been watching this exchange in fascination,
held up her hands.

“
Anais,
what on earth are you talking about? What's all this about the SLPs?
They're not due to be released until Saturday.”

Before Anais could confess, Marcus spoke.

“
But
– you will still help me, right? If you can talk to Denzel, you'll
try and get me out of here, won't you?” His eyes were locked onto
avidly onto Anais, his face a full of pitiful hope. Anais wasn't
even sure if he'd even registered Officer Hughes' presence. Anais
exchanged a helpless look with Hughes, who addressed Marcus for the
first time.

“
Marcus,
you've been arrested for murder. At the very best, all you can hope
for is manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. But
you'll have a hard time proving that without evidence.”

It was the words she didn't say that hung unspoken in the air
between them all. If Marcus couldn't prove it was the SLP that had
forced him to act, then he was as good as dead. The death penalty
applied to everyone accused of murder, regardless of age or
circumstance. Marcus was a dead man walking.

Still Marcus didn't seem to fully acknowledge that Hughes was
there; whether through exhaustion, or because he was pinning all his
hopes on Anais, Anais couldn't say. Instead, he continued to look up
at Anais, his expression broken. Anais wasn't even sure if he'd even
heard what Hughes had said.

“
Marcus,”
she said more gently. “I can go and talk to Denzel. I can try and
find out as much as I can about these SLPs, but there's no guarantee
I can help you. You have to understand that.”

She hadn't meant her words to come out so harshly, but equally, she
couldn't see the point in lying to him.

Marcus looked crestfallen, but he managed a tiny nod.

“
I
understand,” he whispered.

His eyes seemed to mist over.

“
Anais,
that's enough,” Officer Hughes said. There was a squawk of static
that seemed to be coming from Hughes. She lifted her arm up, and
Anais could see a tiny black transmitter wrapped around her wrist.
Voices began to speak from the device, and although the volume was
too low for Anais to hear, the hint of urgency in Hughes' voice as
she glanced at the door was unmistakable. “We should go, now.”

But Anais was still staring at Marcus. He was twitching his head,
as though there was an itch he wanted to scratch, but couldn't while
his hands were tied. And then the thought hit her like a train.

Dalla. Dalla's chip was infected and she was dying. Grayson was
dead. So was the first murderer, whatever his name was. That was the
link. The SLPs not only erased themselves, they also forced whoever
had downloaded them to commit terrible crimes. How had she not seen
it before?

Horrified, she spun back round.

“
Marcus,
let me see your ID chip,” she said urgently. Marcus raised his
head, strands of straggly yellow hair covering most of his face.

“
Why?”
he asked, but then he yelped as Anais, not bothering to wait for
permission, brushed his hair out of the way of his right ear.

It was immediately obvious why he'd cried out. The skin below his
ear was inflamed, the shape of his ID chip obvious as it bulged out
from under his skin. Ugly red and purple veins snaked away from the
area, carrying the infection with them. The chip was black, almost
as if it had fried itself. How Marcus hadn't felt something wrong,
Anais would never know.

She dropped his hair back into place, backing away from him, horror
and fear rising in her throat.

“
What?”
Marcus said frantically. “What is it?”

Anais' voice seemed to have deserted her. She whipped round to
Officer Hughes.

“
Help,”
she managed to choke out. “He needs help, now!”

She grabbed Officer Hughes' sleeve and dragged her over to Marcus
before she could protest. “Look!”

Gingerly she brushed back his hair again, so Hughes could see the
damage. Anais looked up and saw the other woman looking queasy and
faintly repulsed.

“
But
– but how? What's wrong with him?” Hughes said faintly.

“
Listen,”
Anais began to speak hurriedly. She could've sworn she heard muffled
noises outside in the corridor – doors slamming, robotic and human
voices, and footsteps running towards them. “Marcus bought a
counterfeit SLP. So did my friend, Dalla. Now Dalla is in hospital
and this exact same thing happened to her. If you don't get him to
the hospital right now, he's going to die. You need to check the
bodies of the other two murderers and see if their ID chips look
like this. If they do, that means they bought black market SLPs too.
This is why they've been murdering people – it's the SLPs, they're
not SLPs at all. Something or someone is manipulating them into
murdering people.”

Officer Hughes gaped at Anais as she spoke.

“
But
– how did you -”

“
Because
I was there when Dalla got sick,” Anais said. “Marcus told me he
bought an SLP and I was with Dalla when she did the same. I'm
telling you, he's seriously ill – that's why the other murderers
died at the scene of the crime. Their ID chips, or their brains,
went funny.”

“
Anais
-” Officer Hughes' worried voice stopped short as she glanced down
at Marcus. Anais looked at him too, and her blood ran cold.

His eyes were rolling in his head. Blood and spit and the same
milky liquid was beginning to dribble out of his mouth as he
convulsed in the chair. A horrible, gargling noise was coming from
his throat as his airway began to seize up.

Officer Hughes began shouting into the tiny transmitter on her
wrist, calling for back-up as she tried to disabled the handcuffs
that were keeping him to the chair. The noises Anais had heard
outside suddenly became more pronounced as three human officers
skidded into the cell, followed by two securi-bots. The policemen
took one look at Marcus and ripped off the handcuffs that Hughes had
just disabled. They lowered him to the floor, where he thrashed
around until two of the officer managed to grab hold of his flailing
limbs.

Anais was frozen in absolute horror. All she could see was Dalla on
the floor, blood running out of her mouth as she shuddered and
jerked. She could hear herself as she screamed for her dad to help.
A low moan escaped her lips, and Officer Hughes' attention was
brought back to her.

“
Anais,”
she said, reaching out to her. “It's ok -”

But Anais took a step away. She blinked, and the commotion in the
room came back into sharp clarity.

“
Oh
no,” she whispered, as Marcus continued to choke on his own blood.
“No, no, no.”

“
Anais,
please, come with me. You're going to be fine,” Officer Hughes was
advancing towards her, but with a jolt, Anais realised something.
She'd told them about the counterfeit SLPs. She told them her
suspicions about the murderers. There was no way they were going to
let her go this time.

With one last agonising look at Marcus, silently pleading with him
to forgive her, Anais turned and fled.

She heard the shouts behind her, and the hum of the securi-bots,
but Anais didn't look back. She flew down the corridor and round the
corner, hearing the automated voices of the securi-bots as they
ordered her to stop above the shouts and the pounding of feet.

She
burst through the doors that led into the reception area. Xander was
on his feet as soon as he saw her, but his question died on his lips
as she grabbed his arm, screaming at him to run. They had almost
reached the entrance, Anais could feel a breath of fresh air wafting
through the doors, when a crashing blow to her knees brought her to
the ground. She landed hard on her back, gasping for air. Above her,
curiously, Nox's face swam into view, his expression triumphant.
How
odd
,
she thought as though she was somehow detached from the whole
situation,
I
must be imagining things
.

“
Not
so fast, Miss Finch,” he gloated. “Where do you think you're
going?”

But Anais wasn't paying attention. She was close enough to the
outside now that power had been restored to her RetCom. The message
icon had begun to blink in her vision, and even before she opened
it, somehow she knew what it would say.

Xander's frantic voice seemed to be coming from a very long way
away. Out of the corner of her vision she could see several black
securi-bots advancing on her, their sirens wailing as their sensors
flashed red. Officer Hughes was shouting at them, trying to get them
to stand down. But it was as though this was all happening in
another life, to another person, as a fog began to descend on Anais'
brain.

Nox's face still hung above hers, his expression changing rapidly
from one of triumph to one of confusion and shock, as another sound
rose above all the commotion, causing everyone to freeze. For a
split second, Anais thought that the securi-bots sirens must've been
malfunctioning, as the awful sound echoed on and on. But, as reality
slowly began come back into focus, she realised with a sickening
jolt that the inhuman, primal scream was, in fact, coming from her.

Ten

The sunrise was a blaze of light that washed over the skyscrapers in
the distance. The sky was a riot of gold and orange and blue,
promising to become another perfect day. The whole world felt
tranquil and at peace with itself, as though nothing bad could ever
happen in a city as beautiful as this.

So why then, did Anais feel as though she wanted to tear it all
down with her bare hands? If she had had the strength, she'd destroy
every one of those perfect buildings that lined the horizon; she'd
smash up every last pane of glass, she'd rip out every last object
she could lay her hands on and tear it to shreds. And even then she
doubted it would come close to expressing what she was really
feeling.

Internally Anais was screaming. The howl of pain and misery inside
her hadn't stopped since last night, ever since she'd received that
fateful message that had changed her world forever. She hadn't known
it was possible to experience this kind of pain for so long and
still be alive. It was as though someone was torturing her heart;
causing it to endlessly contract and making it hard to breathe.

She closed her eyes against the brightening sun, feeling the cool
breeze play over her face and lifting up her hair. She inhaled
deeply, breathing in the gentle scent of jasmine, honeysuckle and
wildflowers that were sprinkled over this part of the park. It was
the scent she'd known from childhood, as she and Dalla ran riot over
the hills; playing hide and seek amongst the trees that surrounded
the park's edge and fishing for imaginary fish in the streams. She
remembered their shrieks of laughter as they splashed in the water,
slipping on the slimy stones beneath their bare feet. As they grew
older, they had built dens in the gently swaying trees and then sat
in them for hours, talking about everything under the sun – boys,
make-up, fashion, boys again - before one of their mums would find
them and chase them home as night fell.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she reluctantly opened her
eyes, forcing herself to come out of her memories and back into the
real world. Even though she knew she was standing there, knew this
was really happening, there was still a part of her that felt oddly
detached as though she was watching a show on the HV screen.

Her mother was standing beside her, dressed in the old black skirt
and jacket she always wore for funerals.

“
It's
time,” Mrs Finch said gently. Anais nodded mutely.

They were standing on top of a small hillock, the breeze rippling
through the velvety green grass. Below them, Anais could see the
stream of people all making their way towards the west end of the
park. This group was sombrely clad in black, grey and navy, the
absence of colour making Anais' heart ache all the more.

She felt someone take her bandaged hand and she knew, simply from
the reassuring presence he brought with him wherever he went, that
it was her father. Together, the three of them followed the path
down the rolling hill. Each step felt heavier than the last, and by
the time they reached the bottom, Anais wasn't sure if she could've
carry on if it wasn't for her parents by her side. They joined the
last of the mourners as they made their way to the quietest corner
of the park. Rowan trees lined the well swept path, their red fruit
dangling low. Birds were chirping in the branches, oblivious to the
events going on below them.

They followed the path into the designated clearing. Cherry trees
glowed red and gold in the morning light, their colour adding to the
autumnal feel in the air. The clearing was right by the river, which
ran through the length of the park. It's waters, normally roaring,
were unusually placid today. In the distance the downtown buildings
twinkled and sparkled in the light.

Anais' eyes were drawn against her will from the glittering
skyscrapers to the plain grey casket that lay on a small platform in
front of the crowd. She took one look at the casket and almost lost
her mind completely. There was no way, not in any fair world, that
her friend – her beautiful, funny, kind, caring Dalla – was
lying in that drab coffin. It's uniform grey colour was the same as
the hundreds of others that were laid to rest every week in the
city. If it had been up to Anais, she would've decorated the whole
thing in flowers and stars and sunlight. It would've been bright and
cheerful, just like the girl inside it had been. But every citizen
in the Imperial City got the same treatment at the end of their
lives – a quick ceremony and the same uniform bio-degradable box,
as required by law.

Her parents gently steered her into their reserved seats in the
second row. Out of the corner of her eye, Anais could see many of
her fellow students from the Academy that she hadn't seen since
school had finished. There were quite a few teachers too - Dalla had
been one of the Academy's top students during her time there.

Although
she could feel their eyes on her and hear the whispers from the
crowd, Anais chose to ignore them all, staring straight ahead at
nothing as she took her seat.

Once everyone had sat down, the Warden of the Park stood up and
began his speech in a loud voice so it carried over the crowd.
Despite the volume, his voice remained curiously monotone.

“
We
are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Dalla Goddard,
beloved daughter and friend. Life is but a gift, and in the end, we
must all give back this gift we have received to the universe, so
our energy may live on in our future generations. Although Dalla may
be gone, her memory will live on in the flowers in the park, the
wheat that grows outside our city and in the trees that line our
city streets. It is important that we remember that our bodies are
merely vessels for this universal energy, and we should be grateful
of this chance to give something back to nature, which has provided
us with so much -”

Anais tuned out at this point. Her mind was utterly blank with
exhaustion. She'd slept so little over the past few days that she
barely felt able to comprehend what was going on. Had it really been
less than 48 hours since she'd seen Dalla, so excited and glowing
with life? Was it really only yesterday that she'd run to the police
station with Xander to try and save Marcus? It felt as though this
was some kind of horrific nightmare that had started from the day
she'd witnessed the murder. Any moment now she should wake up, safe
in her own bed, hearing her mum calling her for breakfast and
receiving a message from Dalla asking her what she was wearing that
day. Only the occasional throb of pain in her right hand convinced
her that this was real. She stared down at the bandage that Xander
had wrapped so neatly around her wounds.

She flexed her fingers, relishing the pain in her hand. In a
perverse way, it gave her some kind of anchor to reality. Too much
had happened over the past few days for her to be able to process it
properly. Yesterday especially seemed all jumbled up in her memory.
Officer Hughes and Xander picking her up off the floor...trying to
tell Xander what was wrong but her words being incoherent through
her tears and pain...Nox's shock turning into anger as Hughes led
her away...sitting in an interrogation room while Xander patiently
bandaged her hand with shaking fingers and Hughes asked questions
that she had no answer to.

From what she gathered through her grief, Nox hadn't been happy at
Anais slipping through his fingers yet again. Hughes had once again
fought her corner and had overruled Nox's objections to letting her
go free for the second time. This is just what she'd picked up from
Xander later on, and from the snippets of the shouting match she'd
heard in the corridor outside the room. Hughes had looked grimly
satisfied when she'd walked back in. She'd sat down and looked Anais
straight in the eyes.

“
You
can go,” she'd said. “But only on the condition that you come
and see me after the funeral. We have a lot of things to discuss.”

Anais had agreed without fully realising what she was agreeing to
and an official-looking icon had appeared in her vision – a
reminder sent from Officer Hughes about their meeting.

“
Just
in case you forget,” Hughes had said.

Idly, she wondered why Officer Hughes kept standing up for her.
She'd have to ask her when they met. It wasn't like Hughes owed her
anything whereas now, Anais had no idea how she'd ever repay Hughes
for the kindness she'd been shown. A cold trickle ran down her spine
as she thought how differently everything could've turned out if Nox
had got his hands on her first.

Her mother squeezed her knee. She gave Anais a watery smile which
Anais didn't return. Instead, Anais' attention was drawn back to the
Warden who was concluding his monotone speech.

“
...and
so, Dalla, we wish you peace and love on your final journey, and we
hope that your energy finds it's way into something as beautiful and
courageous as you were.”

Anais'
ears pricked up. Courageous? Dalla was many things, but courageous
probably wasn't one of them. She stared at the Warden as he stepped
back so the crowd could see the casket. A white hot blaze of anger
was mounting inside her. She clenched her fists to stop them from
shaking. Was it too much to ask that for once, they changed the
words of the eulogy to suit the person they were talking about? Did
everything in this city have to be
exactly
the fucking same
?

Her
fingernails bit into her palms, the pain distracting her from doing
something stupid. Like standing up and shouting at the Warden about
how Dalla really was. About how when she smiled, she made everyone
else around her smile too. And how she could cheer Anais up, just by
being there. How she was the best friend anyone could ever ask for,
and she deserved so much more than...than
this
.

Anais'
eyes burned and there was a swelling in her throat, making it
difficult for her to swallow. She blinked hard, trying to pretend to
herself that she was only deleting the alerts that kept popping up
in her vision. She'd had a constant stream of them over the last
day, as Marcus' crime kicked off the discussions over the
Anderson/Pearson murders once more. She'd tried to set one up for
Marcus too, but her vision had immediately been swamped with
stories, and she'd had to delete it again. Now, a new one pinged
into her eyesight.
Clay
Winterbourne: Mad or Misunderstood?
read
the headline. Anais deleted it without interest. The things that had
seemed so paramount to her a few days ago – finding out about
Civitas' merger with WireX, wondering if Clay Winterbourne had
broken into the Civitas building and why – now seemed small and
unremarkable.

Anais
blinked and the park came back into focus. Dalla's parents sitting
in the front row on the other side of the congregation. Mrs
Goddard's normally perfect face, so much like her daughter's, was
glazed with tears; her brown eyes puffy and sore. Dalla's father
looked very much as he had at the hospital, his face frozen in
complete shock. He was deathly white as he stared straight ahead.
Only the trembling of his hands as he gripped his wife's showed how
hard he was fighting to keep back the emotion.

The casket began its descent into the ground. It wouldn't remain
there like the coffins they used to use; instead, it would be
lowered into an underground tube and sent on to a special recycling
plant, where it would be turned into compost to be used on the
plants and crops around the city. Anais watched the box disappear,
feeling as though her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.
This time when the tears came, she let them splash over her cheeks
and onto her lap, soaking the bandages on her hand. She could not
believe that this would be the last time she would ever see or be
close to Dalla.

The coffin slid into the ground without a sound and the panel of
grass that concealed the tube's entrance slid back into place,
leaving no trace of the burial site. Gradually, murmurs began to
fill the air as everyone stood up and started to leave. A queue
began to form in front of Dalla's parents as well-wishers passed on
their condolences. Anais' parents stood up and, after a moment,
Anais followed suit, her limbs feeling as though they were made of
lead. Mrs Finch pulled Anais into a fierce hug, her eyes still full
of tears.

“
I'm
so sorry my darling,” she said, her voice breaking. She drew back
and clutched at Anais' hands, squeezing them hard. “How are you?”

Anais could only shake her head. If she opened her mouth now, she
felt as though she wouldn't be able to ever stop crying, or
screaming, or both.

“
Anais,”
came her dad's gentle voice. “We have to get back to work. Our
shift starts in half an hour.”

“
I'm
so sorry love,” her mum said, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears.
“Will you be alright getting home? I wanted to come with you, but
I wasn't allowed more than an hour off work...”

Anais looked at her mum's face, now streaked with make-up and
wanted with all her heart to ask them to stay with her, just so she
wouldn't have to be alone. She saw her father's kindly expression
and knew that they'd do whatever she asked them to do. They would
drop everything and remain by her side if that's what she wanted.
But that wasn't fair on them – they shouldn't have to stay with
her. They had to go back to work, or risk facing disciplinary action
and Anais knew she couldn't never ask her parents to go through
that. She'd been fortunate to get the day off work, though it had
taken the combined efforts of her parents pleading with her manager
to do so. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr Mullins would make
her pay for her day off when she returned.