The System (27 page)

Stern considered this, then he nodded slowly. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then I’d better get back to work.’

He walked off; Linus watched him in admiration – he was an old man now but he still carried himself tall, accepted no help from anyone, in spite of Martha’s best efforts. Whilst others from the Settlement queued up for bandages, Stern had spent every minute since he arrived getting food for his people, making sure everyone had what they needed.

‘Stern,’ Lucas shouted after him. Stern turned, slowly.

‘Get yourself some food. I need you to be strong today. Make sure you rest. Your people are going to need you.’

Stern opened his mouth to protest, then turned, lifted a hand in a little wave. And then he was gone, leaving Lucas on his own again, wondering what was coming, wondering what the day would bring.

Thomas pulled a face, then stepped back. ‘Shall we?’

The two men who had been behind him since Thomas had walked into Raffy’s cubicle now took Raffy by the arms and handcuffed him; they then followed Thomas out of the room. There was no hood over his head this time; he saw a long corridor with plush carpet, saw a lift, saw Thomas press the button to go down, saw him press the number ‘10’ once inside.

‘It’s the maintenance floor,’ Thomas said, noticing Raffy’s eyes. ‘Not as comfortable as yours. But I guess you know that. You remember.’

Raffy nodded as he was pulled out of the lift onto a concrete floor; there was the sound of machinery, a chill that he hadn’t felt further up the building. They were on the floor he had been brought to before, the floor where he and Linus had been tied up together.

Thomas stopped in front of a large metal door, then stepped aside; the man holding Raffy’s left arm dropped it and stepped forward, taking out a key. The door swung open slowly; Raffy was shoved roughly through the doorway. ‘Thank you gentlemen,’ Thomas said then; the men stepped backwards and the door closed in front of them.

The room appeared empty; high grey walls stretched upwards and metal shelves sat against the walls, carrying computers, books, machinery, papers and files. Thomas walked around the corner; Raffy followed him. And there, sitting in the corner, was Linus, his usual impenetrable smile on his face.

‘Thomas,’ he said.

‘Linus.’ There was no warmth in either voice. ‘So you’ve finished?’ Thomas walked towards him. ‘I thought that perhaps changing your scenery might encourage more of a work ethic. I’m so pleased I was right.’

‘You have never been right about anything, Thomas,’ Linus replied benignly.

Thomas stood over Linus; Raffy noticed how much he obviously enjoyed the dominance. ‘Show me,’ he said, curtly. ‘Show me now.’

Linus shrugged lightly and began to show Thomas and Raffy what he’d built. And Raffy, who at one point had truly believed he could build the System himself if necessary, found himself staring in awe at what Linus had created, the subtlety, the sophistication, the beauty of a System that truly appeared to breathe, to understand, to feel. It was different from the System he’d built in the City; closer to how Linus had described his original ideas to Raffy – ideas for a System that could pre-empt people’s needs, that could monitor happiness levels, look for unrest, for dissatisfaction, for despondency, depression or unhappiness, so that those affected could be helped, so that their lives could be improved, so that they did not lash out and take their anger out on others. Or, Raffy thought heavily, in Thomas’s world, they would be tracked down and eliminated, as would anyone found to be questioning his authority, planning any kind of protest or simply breaking any one of his rules.

‘It’s really here,’ Thomas breathed, as Linus walked them through it. ‘It’s extraordinary, so complex and yet so simple.’ Then, suddenly, his eyes narrowed. ‘But why? Why, Linus. It wasn’t this room. It wasn’t any of my threats. You’d have died before building this System for me. So why did you do it?’

Linus took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. ‘I’m tired of the bloodshed, Thomas. I’m tired of people dying, tired of all the pain. It made me wonder what I’m fighting, if my fight is causing so much pain. I’m an old man, Thomas. I don’t have any fight left.’

Thomas shook his head. ‘No fight? Linus, you’ll always have fight in you. Don’t you realise that’s what’s kept you going all these years? You think you hate me for everything I’ve done, but really you should be grateful. I provided you with the perfect environment.’

‘To build my System? Yes, you did that,’ Linus said quietly.

‘No,’ Thomas shook his head again. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I did that for me, not you. I mean the City, your rebellion. It’s what you thrive on, Linus. You’ve always been a loner, but until I started the Horrors, you didn’t have a cause. Think about when you’ve been happiest. Was it before the Horrors, when you were walking in and out of jobs all the time? Was it in the City, when you were building your System? Or was it in that camp of yours, starting the rebellion, planning the fight back against the evil Brother, the corrupt System? That’s when you came alive, Linus, admit it.’

Linus frowned. ‘And I should be grateful to you for that? For starting a war, for creating a City that was corrupt from the beginning, that lied to its people and made them afraid?’

Thomas smiled. ‘So indignant, Linus. So aggrieved. Yes, you should be grateful to me. Don’t you know your Durkheim? He said that people are happiest when they are at war, when they have a common enemy. It gives their lives meaning. It brings people together. Without me you’d have been a drifter. You’d never have lived up to your potential. And you’d certainly never have had any friends.’

‘And that’s how you sleep at night? You think that killing all those people somehow saved me so it’s okay?’ Linus asked, his voice very cold suddenly.

Thomas shrugged. ‘I sleep at night because I’ve done everything I ever wanted to and more,’ he said, taking a few steps away from Linus, folding his arms in front of himself. ‘Because I have control over everything and everyone. Because I ask for something and I get it.’ He walked back to where Linus was sitting, leant in closely. ‘Even your precious System, Linus,’ he said, his voice dropping. ‘Even your precious System.’

‘Just be careful what you wish for, Thomas,’ Linus said then.

Thomas regarded Linus, a look of pity on his face. ‘Oh, Linus. You are so desperate to still be the person who knows what’s going on. Don’t you get it, though? You were never that person. Back in your little camp, in your cave, you knew nothing about anything. You thought the rest of the world had been destroyed. You believed everything I wanted you to believe. And now you have lost all your bargaining power. You’ve totally given in, given up. Linus, I used to respect you. Now, I just pity you. You are pathetic. You have served your purpose.’

He stood up. ‘I am going to take your System and test it. If there are any problems with it, any problems at all, I will kill Raffy here and then I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. I don’t need you anymore; what’s here is enough for my people to develop anything I want them to. So this is your last chance to tell me about any little glitches you’ve put in there to surprise me.’

Linus shook his head, shot a quick smile at Raffy, who didn’t return it.

‘Good,’ said Thomas. ‘Very good. In that case, Linus, come with me. We’ll test it together.’

Evie had never felt so exhausted, had never felt her muscles and bones groan with so much pain, but she refused to give them a moment’s rest. In front of her was a door, a door that led to everything she had ever wanted, and she was going to open it if it killed her.

‘Is it locked?’ Frankie called up. Evie was perched at the top of a fixed ladder; the door, like the door back in Paris, had been the emergency entrance for maintenance, for access in and out. But this door wasn’t opening, however much Evie kicked at it.

‘No, it’s wide open,’ she shouted back, aware that the sarcasm in her voice wasn’t entirely necessary but unable to manage any other tone. Now wasn’t the time for questions; it was the time to get through this bloody door. They’d come so far and they weren’t going to be defeated now. Evie wasn’t going to be defeated now. She kicked again; the metal door stayed resolutely closed.

Frankie scrambled up behind her, then next to her; Evie resisted her angrily. ‘I can do this,’ she said, but Frankie wasn’t listening; she continued up the ladder then started to feel around the wall. Evie rolled her eyes and, holding onto the ladder, started to kick again, pain shooting up to her thigh as she did so. She kicked, over and over and over, each kick as futile as the last, and she could feel the tears running down her face but she ignored them because she was going to get out of this tunnel, she had to get out of this tunnel. And then Frankie squealed. ‘Got it!’

‘Got what?’ Evie shouted, still kicking, left leg, then right leg, then left leg again.

‘Stop that bloody kicking,’ Frankie shouted. ‘I’ve got the key.’

Evie stopped dead. ‘The … key?’

‘The key,’ Frankie nodded, talking slowly, as though to a child. ‘People always leave a spare key lying around just in case. There’s a ledge up there that goes right around the perimeter of this little tube we’re in. And I found the key.’

She shot a triumphant look to Evie and scrambled back down the ladder. Evie tried to take the key from her but Frankie refused, edging Evie out of the way and fitting it into the lock. It took her a few minutes to turn it, but eventually Evie heard the metal move; moments later, Frankie turned the handle and the door opened. In front of it was another tunnel, filled with mud, lots of mud, piles of it as high as the two of them put together. But there was also light. Not far away there was sunlight, a way out. A way home.

Evie stared at it, almost not daring to believe. Then, without warning, she grabbed Frankie, threw her arms around her and squeezed her so tightly Frankie gasped for air, then she released her and took her hand. ‘We’re here,’ she said, her voice barely audible. ‘Frankie, we’re really here.’ And with that, she started to run, not looking back to check that Frankie was following, just running towards the light, towards the City, towards Lucas.

Milo watched the planes leaving. There would be questions, of course there would, but the questions didn’t matter now. Milo would obfuscate, would make something up. Thomas had his System; that would be enough for now.

‘So!’ His door opened and Thomas appeared; behind him, held by two Inforcers, were Linus and Raffy, hoods covering their faces. ‘I have it,’ he said, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s finished.’

Milo stood up, clapped Thomas on the back. ‘You’ve done it,’ he said. ‘You’ve got everything you ever wanted.’

Thomas nodded slowly. ‘Yes, Milo. I think perhaps I have.’

‘So are you going to show me?’ Milo asked, keen to change his screen to something else. ‘It’s being tested on the shadowframe, right? Show me. Talk me through it. If it’s everything you say it is I can’t wait to see.’

Thomas’s eyes lit up as he ushered the guards in and installed Linus and Raffy on two chairs, their hands tied behind their backs. ‘It’s more than everything I’ve said it is. Very well, Milo. I’ll show you. Prepare to be amazed.’

Frankie’s lungs felt like they were about to explode; her whole chest ached, her legs were shaking and she winced every time she landed on her right foot. And yet she kept running, because ahead of her was Evie, and the urgency in the way she was moving, the elation in her face when they had finally seen light, made Frankie as determined as her new friend was to get to this place called the City, to see with her own eyes what Evie had told her about. Evie didn’t say very much; Frankie had learnt that pretty early on. But she said a lot with her eyes; the way they clouded over when she met with disappointment, the way they turned to steel during disagreements, the way they danced when she spoke about Lucas. Frankie had never met someone so private who, nevertheless, communicated so much.

At first it had made her wary, mistrustful; after all, sharing was good, sharing meant that you had nothing to hide. But gradually she had begun to see that Evie was just cautious, that by keeping things to herself they stayed more precious. It reminded Frankie of the little jewellery box her father had given her when she was eight; it was full of secret compartments, each containing their own bead or bauble which, joined together, could be made into a necklace. It had been a year before she strung them together; within a few weeks they had been worn, forgotten, lost. But in the box they had been treasures. In the box they had been her secrets that she was determined to protect.

It had been a long time since she’d had any secrets. It had been a very long time since anything had been that precious to her.

And so she ran, gritting her teeth against the pain shooting up and down her limbs, squeezing her chest. Because Evie still had treasures to protect. And Frankie was going to help her find them again. Because nothing else mattered anymore. Because this strange, silent girl had taught her how to feel alive again, and Frankie would never forget it.

She saw the speck in the distance, Evie, stop, and she upped her pace to catch up, panting furiously when she finally reached her.

‘There,’ Evie said, breathlessly, pointing ahead. ‘That’s the wall. That’s the City.’

Her eyes were sparkling in spite of the bags under her eyes, her matted hair. Frankie knew that she, too, must look unbelievably awful, covered in mud mixed with sweat, her wig plastered around her face. She grinned. ‘So come on then, what are we waiting for?’

‘I don’t know,’ Evie said uncertainly. ‘Nothing, I just … This is it. We’re here. And you’re going to film it all, right? That’s what you said. You’re going to show the world that the City exists?’

Frankie put her hand on Evie’s shoulder; she could see the nerves on her friend’s face. ‘We’re going to show them,’ she said. ‘Everything’s going to change, Evie. Because of you. Because of Raffy.’

Evie nodded. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice catching slightly. ‘It’s just … I can’t quite believe it. Does he know? Raffy, I mean. Does he know we’re here?’