The Living (28 page)

‘Precisely detects…’ Cracker squeezed his spidery,
slender-fingered
hands into fists. ‘…But I wonder… Maybe it controls them?’

‘You’re crazy,’ was Zero’s response to that. ‘You’re paranoid, Cracker.’ He didn’t want to think that the System was a curse. He wanted to believe that the System was the nativity gift of the magi. And that one day it would accept him. Someday, after one year, two, three, ten, someone’s pause would take too long. Someone’s five seconds of darkness would accidentally turn out to be an eternity. Someone – some absolutely terrible person, some pathetic screw-up… some correctee with a terrible
invector
– would quit the System forever and it would then invite Zero to take up the vacant spot.

And he would stop being surplus to requirements.

Zero imagined the System as something solemn and sad. Like the temple in which the ancients used to pray to their three-headed god. Like the fiery underground world which the ancients went down into to live in after death.

…The little man made of numbers had nothing in common with how the Wise One had imagined the System. He was funny and ridiculous.

‘In
socio
the System is different,’ the Servant responded to what he was thinking. ‘Like an ancient temple…’ The Wise One felt an unpleasant chill.

‘Actually it wasn’t the System so much I wanted to show you…’ The Servant faltered strangely. ‘So much as… the
Malfunction
. A malfunction in the System, yes.’

The Wise One shivered. An idiotic, childish hope hit him somewhere just above the stomach. Like an imago struggling to break free from its cocoon. A system malfunction.

Someone’s pause will take too long…

‘Look, Wise One.’

The funny little man on the screen slowly lifted both arms – as if he was surrendering himself to the mercy of an unseen enemy. Several twisted spirals of numbers on his body – in his armpits, on his palms and around the navel – turned
unavailable
and started to look like bruises.

‘One, two, three… five… Fofs!’ The Servant looked properly scared. ‘…seven, eight… eight of them. More than ever!’

‘What is that…?’

The Servant of Order zoomed in on one of the ‘bruises’: a tiny patch of letters and numbers unfurled to reveal
someone
’s eight-digit incode. At the bottom of the screen a timer came on with a panicky ping:

‘A stalled reproduction,’ the Servant replied quietly. ‘That timer is counting the seconds of darkness. After the pause there
should be, as you know, five seconds. And here – well, see for yourself…’

The Wise One felt a strange weightlessness. The imago of hope hatched somewhere in his stomach and flew up towards his throat on an acid wave of nausea.

Someone’s five seconds of darkness might accidentally turn out to be an eternity…

‘At the moment eight livings have not been reproduced at the correct time following the pause. That’s a lot. Usually it’s two or three…’

‘Usually?!’

‘Recently… The malfunction in the System was discovered nearly half a year ago. Someone’s incode was reproduced late by all of two tenths of a second, but the System noticed and sent an alarm signal in
socio
. We decided that this was a unique and overall acceptable exception from the rule, and we didn’t treat what had happened as significant. But a week later the situation happened again, only now the reproduction ‘stalled’ for two further seconds… Then suddenly two incodes stalled in two different regions. One was reproduced after ten minutes, the other… after a day. That’s when we realised that the stability of the Living was under threat. He is sick, Wise One. The Living is seriously ill.’

…At second 108 the incode on the screen winked, changed colour from unavailable to grassy-available and dashed off somewhere to the right.

‘What… what happened to him?’ Zero shuddered.

‘He was finally reproduced…
So far
all the stalled
reproductions
have gone through sooner or later. Our task, Wise One, is to prevent…’ For some reason the Servant moved to a
whisper
, ‘…is to prevent any reduction… It’s terrifying to think
what would happen if someone’s reproduction was just
cancelled
. Because the Number of the Living is unchanging, the Living is three billion livings… You must protect Him. We believe the system malfunction is connected to the destructive activity of the Dissidents. That is why the First Speech should be devoted to bringing in harsher measures and the
introduction
of a state of emergency, you see? Wise One…? How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine,’ the Wise One replied.

The walls and floor had stopped swaying in front of him. Everything became precise and incredibly bright, like
feeling lucky
. ‘Feeling lucky,’ Zero said to himself and got up. He felt a strange agitation in his whole body. His legs and arms were trembling – not from weakness, but from a strange foreboding of strength. As if some unseen and powerful engine had started working inside him. Right now he could run ten miles without stopping. Right now he would tear anyone who tried to block his path to shreds. He was like a rabid farm dog that had broken out of its cage. Now he’s going to go and defend himself and his territory. He is going to defend his Master. He, Zero, will be the one to cure the Living of this sickness – and after that the Master will accept him… He is not afraid, he is no longer weak, he is the lord of first layer. Right now he is stronger than any of these bloated, clumsy,
socio
people that can’t string their thoughts together. Now he is stronger than the Servant of Order standing next to him. Stronger than that clown, screwing up his face like he’s got toothache.

‘Gopz,’ Zero said with an inscrutable smile; insane joy was ticking away in his head, like an explosive device gone mad. ‘You, and Second, you can both gopz, alright? The Living does not have enough love, that’s the reason for the
Malfunction
. I am sure of it. I’ve come up with a good First Speech, simple and kind. I will not give
your
speech to the Council of Eight…’

‘He’s still stupid,’ the Servant thought and shuddered as he left the System. ‘In the grand scheme of things. Stupid and
stubborn
, like an owlet moth bashing against the window at night…’

‘You’ve already given our speech, idiot,’ the Servant replied wearily. The Wise One stared with eyes full of blood and venom at the darkened screen of the Crystal and then at the Servant.

‘Did you really think that there is even a single corner in the Residence that’s not fitted with video surveillance and
recording
?’ The Servant suddenly got the urge to gather his saliva and spit in those stupid eyes. ‘We filmed you while you read
our
speech. It’s a shame it was without expression, but hey, the members of the Council hardly ever listen out for intonation in first layer… But if you want I’ll ask Second if anyone in the Council was upset by the fact that you read off a piece of paper…? No, he says no one was upset. They all believed in your “direct connection”… So, I can congratulate you on a successful First Speech, Wise One: a First Speech is a big responsibility… You caught them unawares with your radical ideas… But on the other hand, the members of the Council have been planning on “clamping down” for a long time now. The discussion is now underway. What a shame that you can’t take part in the general debate yet. Second is saying that all the members of the Council are terribly worried by your illness. You lost consciousness after all, and I literally carried you out of the conference hall in my arms… Sorry, lad, I had to do a little editing and after the speech cut straight to “the faint”… But they all hope that it’s just the result of stress. It’s entirely possible, you were just overly anxious, Wise One: the First Speech is a big responsibility… They hope that you feel a bit better and will come back to the conference hall to take part in the discussion… Are you feeling a bit better, Wise One, what do you reckon? In a way everything depends on you…’

‘You scumbags,’ the Wise One was trembling with anger and passion. ‘I’m going to tell them all right now.’

The Servant of Order started laughing in surprise at how childish the threat sounded. ‘I’m going to tell mum on you!’ was how his Darlings usually reacted when he locked them in the unlit store cupboard as punishment for some misdemeanour…

The Servant watched Zero pulling at the gold-plated handle of the locked door in a frenzy.

‘I’ll break it down!’ The Wise One took a few paces back and slammed himself against the door at a sprint.

…The Servant’s Darlings also always tried to smash the door down. For some unknown reason they were terribly afraid of the dark in first layer. Layla thought that there was no point in punishing them with darkness, but the Servant wasn’t
particularly
interested in what Layla thought. If his little livings want to achieve something in this life then they are going to have to be strong, devious and fearless. Like their father. They need to work on themselves, because neither of them has a particularly great invector, and no one knows how long this dolce vita behind the walls of the Residence is going to last. He, of course, smin, will try to keep them there forever. But there are no
guarantees
. He didn’t even have any guarantees himself for now, so they would have to fight for their place in the sun. The Servant loved sitting in his office and listening to the sounds coming from the cupboard. To the children weeping and banging on the door. Good, good, let them develop their strength and
overcome
the ancient fears. One day – soon – they will realise that the door and the hinges are only wooden on the outside and that inside there is a core of high-carbon steel, and that there is no way of breaking the door down. One day – soon – they will try to trick him as he takes them to the cupboard. Interrupting each other, they will start urgently saying that last time, there, in the cupboard, they saw a rat, a real, live one, with fluffy fur and eyes like buttons… in the far corner, smin, father, smin, go have a look… And he will go in and they will lock the door behind him, and he will let them do it – as once, long ago, his
father let him. Because you can’t deny them that lesson. It will be their first serious act of deviousness… They will run away, laughing and whooping, and he will open the cupboard door from the inside with his key. He will find them in the garden, give each of them a slap on the face, and then hug them tight. Like his father once hugged him, tenderly, painfully…

…The Servant grudgingly paused the clip ‘Darling_
childhood
_ reconciliation_in_garden’ from his family archive and said:

‘Save your strength, Wise One. First off, there’s no way of breaking down that door. Second, another two or three more sharp movements and you’ll be unliving… Do you not feel how close your pause is, eh, Zero?’

Oh yes. He felt it alright. It was as if someone had jabbed him through the heart like a mounted butterfly, and was now toying with him, moving the needle back and forth, and with every movement cold sweat poured over his face and the taste of iron spread through his mouth.

The Servant bent over, scoured the floor with his eyes, picked up the little corpse of the recently deceased beetle, and shoved it in the Wise One’s face.

‘Two heads, see? That means a double dose of white venom. The first portion…’ – The Servant of Order casually ripped one of the heads off the insect – ‘…neutralised the venom of the black bakugan… The second portion…’ – He ripped off the other head, and a meagre pinkish droplet came out of the post-occipital suture – ‘is killing you right now. Your pause will come in an hour – that is if you calm down and you’re as good as gold – or quicker if you carry on acting crazy like this. Any physical effort, any sudden movement, any disturbing thought will speed up the process. Did I not tell you what happens to people that overdo it on white bakugan venom…? Anaphylactic shock. Paroxysmal tachycardia. Rupture of the heart muscle. Brain haemorrhage. Your blood vessels will swell and burst like a rotten grape…’

The Wise One was sitting on the floor, slumped with his back to the locked door.

His breathing was fast and hoarse and his whole body was trembling slightly – like a farm animal when a person has gone up too close to it.

The Servant of Order went up closer and wrinkled his face at the acrid smell emanating from the Wise One. Disgusting. He really does stink like an animal – of fear and sweat.

‘Yes, yes, I know, it’s bad news…’ The Servant noticed that this farmyard stench had even given him a blocked nose. ‘But there is some good news too. I can neutralise the effect of the venom. Ta-da!’ Like a conjuror, the Servant pulled a
transparent
capsule containing a little shivering black ball from his inside pocket. ‘The larva of the black bakugan. It’s already excited, it’s been warmed by the heat of my body, it’s trembling with anticipation. It’s ready to share its magical calming juice… You have to decide, Wise One. If you want, you can die here; the Council of Eight will be extremely upset at this sudden death as a result of nervous stress… Or, if you want, you can
cooperate
. You’ll take a little break, you’ll return to the
conference
hall and you’ll join in with the debate. Don’t you worry, Wise One, I’ll be sitting next to you, giving you hints. So then, have I persuaded you?’

‘Can…I… have…the…black…now…’ Zero wheezed, as he gasped for air, and extended his hand, palm up, to the Servant, like a hungry robot begging passers-by for food on the
outskirts
of the slums.

It seemed to Zero like some
wise
stranger was watching him from inside. Disinterestedly recording every stage of dying and disgrace. Just now he had noted dispassionately that the strength and anger, the virtue and intelligence, the loyalty to his Master – all this had gone from Zero; all there was was deathly sadness, the ancient, childish fear of being left locked somewhere in the dark.