Synthetica (15 page)

Anais almost missed a step, but Dalla didn't seem to notice.

“
Well,
you know how I told you that that Mr Anderson was leaving daddy's
company? Well, it turns out that the guy he was going into business
with was the man who was murdered the other night! Parson, was it?”

“
Pearson,”
Anais said automatically. Her mind was already racing with the
implications of this statement. “But, why hasn't any of this been
in the news?” She'd set up alerts on her RetCom for anything to do
with the murders – surely something this big would've been
reported?

Dalla looked at her quizzically.

“
Why
would it? It's not like their new business was common knowledge or
anything. Does it matter?”

“
Yes!”
Anais said, more loudly than she'd intended. “It matters! Don't
you see? The only company who hasn't been affected by all this is
Civitas!”

“
Hang
on,” Dalla stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

Anais stopped too and faced Dalla, excitement coursing through her
veins. In the dying sunlight, Dalla's cheeks glowed pink.

“
These
attacks – they're all related! The first victim, Anderson, he
worked for MediTech. Donald Pearson worked for WireX – the only
big company who hasn't been affected yet is Civitas! They wanted to
take over WireX Industries – and...” she stopped as she realised
what Dalla's information meant. “and...if those two men wanted to
set up their own company...that would've been another rival for
Civitas...”

She drifted off, lost in her thoughts. Dalla was looking at her as
though she was crazy.

“
Anais...where's
all this coming from? What does it matter to you if these men were
murdered? Or if Civitas wants to take over another company?”

Anais opened her mouth to say that it did matter – it mattered
because she'd almost been framed for the crime, and she'd be damned
if she was going to let whoever was behind the murders get away that
easily. But she couldn't just blurt that out to Dalla.

“
Come
back to mine now, and I'll tell you,” Anais said, but Dalla wasn't
listening. She was fanning her face again and fidgeting with her
scarf.

“
Seriously,
why is it so hot at this time of night?” she said, as she tugged
her scarf off.

“
It's
not -” Anais drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Dalla, what on
earth is
that
?”

Dalla had turned away to put her scarf in her bag, but in doing so
she'd swept her hair behind her ear, to reveal a horrendous mark on
her neck.

“
What?
Nothing,” Dalla said guiltily, standing back up straight and
trying to hide it again. But Anais seized her arm and gingerly
brushed her hair back.

The area around Dalla's ID picochip was red and swollen. The skin
covering the chip itself beginning to turn black. Dark blue and
purple veins were beginning to snake out of the picochip as the
infection began to spread. It looked undeniably painful.

“
Dalla,”
Anais gasped. “What happened?”

Dalla chewed her lip anxiously.

“
I
don't know,” she whispered. “When I woke up...it was a bit
irritated, but it's just been getting worse all day. I...I don't
know what to do.”

She looked close to tears.

“
You
have to go to the hospital,” Anais said, still reeling from the
sight of Dalla's infected ID chip. It made her feel queasy to look
at it. “Dalla, who knows what might happen if you don't?”

Dalla shook her head furiously.

“
I
can't go to the hospital! What if they keep me in overnight? I can't
miss work, when I've only just started!”

“
I
think there are some things that are more important than work,
Dals,” Anais said firmly. “You've got to get it checked out.
Hang on – did you say you woke up with it like this?”

Dalla refused to meet her eye, which was answer enough.

“
It
was that SLP,” Anais said, horrified. “Wasn't it?”

“
I
– I don't know,” Dalla said, but her worried expression told
Anais everything she needed to know.

“
Dalla,
we've got to get to hospital, now! Maybe – maybe they can reverse
the process of something,” Anais said, trying very hard not to
panic. Dalla shook her head slowly.

“
I
don't think they'll be able to,” she whispered. “When I woke up
this morning...I couldn't remember anything I'd downloaded on that
SLP anyway. It's all gone.”

Anais closed her eyes. She knew messing around with pirated
technology was a risk, but this...this was something else. She
didn't know what to do.

“
Okay,”
she said, opening her eyes and sounding remarkably calm despite the
panic gnawing at her insides. “We'll go to the hospital, and just
see what they say. We'll figure something out, Dals, don't worry.”

“
They
won't be able to do anything. They never do. What good are hospitals
anyway, apart from places where people go to be born, or die? I've
never liked the smell of hospitals, makes me sick, like I wanna be
sick, y'know? Like, really really badly. One time, I actually was
sick in hospital, but not because of the smell, it was because I had
a virus, like, a really really really bad one.”

Anais stared at her friend in alarm.

“
Dalla,
what are you talking about?”

Dalla looked surprised at her own outburst. She tried to speak, but
she clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. Anais took a step
forward, peering into Dalla's face. The pink tinge to Dalla's cheeks
had deepened to two bright red spots of colour, and her eyes were a
bit too wide, a bit too bright. She didn't look excited anymore. She
looked feverish. There was a line of perspiration across Dalla's
forehead and her breathing was coming in shallow bursts.

“
Dalla,
what's wrong? Are you feeling alright?” Anais placed a hand on her
arm, and to her alarm, she felt Dalla trembling, even though her
skin was burning hot. “Dalla, speak to me!”

“
I'm
-” Dalla began to reply, before stopping herself, looking as
though she was about to be sick.

“
Dalla,
you're scaring me, what's wrong? Do you need a medic?” Anais
grabbed her friend's shoulders, trying to get Dalla to focus on her,
but Dalla's eyes were wide and she was blinking rapidly, as though
she could no longer see properly. Anais felt Dalla's shoulders
shaking under her hands and panic spread through her as she realised
there was something horribly, horribly wrong.

Dalla shook her head violently Her whole body began to shake.
Without a sound, she collapsed forward, her eyes rolling her head.
Anais screamed and managed to catch her before she hit the pavement.
She knelt down, Dalla convulsing in her arms, her RetCom scanning
Dalla's body for symptoms, trying to place her illness, but it kept
coming up blank.

“
DAD!”
Anais screamed, so loudly she thought she could feel something in
her throat tear. “DAD, HELP ME!”

As she screamed for her father, Anais had just enough wits to send
a signal for an emergency medi-cab on her RetCom. A box flashed in
her vision, informing her that a medi-cab had been dispatched to her
location. She realised she was sobbing as she clutched Dalla to her.
Her friend's face now a deathly pale colour, her eyes roving as she
stared blankly up at the evening sky.

“
Please,
Dalla, hold on, you're going to be okay,” Anais said through her
tears. But Dalla's eyes were still rolling, and now spit and blood
and something milky was beginning to dribble out of the corner of
Dalla's mouth.

“
HELP
ME!” Anais screamed again, desperate for someone, anyone, to hear
her.

There was a pounding on the pavement and she looked up, half
blinded by her tears. She could just make out her father's form
running towards her. He swore loudly as he knelt down next to Anais,
checking Dalla's pulse, looking into her sightless eyes. Anais could
see her dad's lips moving as they formed question after question,
but the sound was now a dull roar in her ears. She clutched Dalla
tighter, repeating the same words over and over, not paying any
attention to her dad's shouts as he tried to grab the attention of
another passerby.

She kept talking, hoping against hope that Dalla could still hear
her, her ears straining for the sound of the medi-cab above the
noise of Dalla's strained breathing, her father's questions, and the
running footsteps and shouts of the other spectators who were now
drawn to the scene.

“
Please,
Dalla, just hold on, it'll be alright, you're going to be fine.
You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay. Can you hear me?
Dalla?”

But Dalla didn't answer.

Eight

The machines bleeped and whirred, registering her biometrics and
providing a constantly updated prognosis. From what Anais could make
out, every graph that kept flashing on the screen kept looking more
and more severe, though she had no idea what any of them meant.

Blue veins snaked along Dalla's arms towards the IV tubes which
were attached to drips filled with a thick yellowish liquid. Her
normally glossy brown hair was limp and dull. Her face was pale and
dark circles ringed her closed eyes. But it was the picochip behind
Dalla's ear that kept drawing Anais' gaze.

The whole side of Dalla's neck was now red and swollen. The
picochip had turned completely black and a network of thicker,
uglier veins were now snaking from the ID chip, crawling inch by
inch down her neck.

To
cut the chip out would've been the equivalent of murder. Anais had
heard several medics speaking in hushed voices as they rushed in and
out of the room, murmuring about septicaemia and inflammation of the
brain. Dalla's RetCom lay in a tiny glass vial by her bedside; a
precaution against possible blindness. Anais didn't know what could
cause a person to have blood poisoning, cause their brain to
inflame, as well as go blind, but she didn't want to know. She felt
sick to her stomach every time she looked at Dalla's still form, and
yet, she couldn't seem to force herself to look away. The same
thoughts kept going round and round her mind, until she felt almost
dizzy. What if she'd said no when Dalla suggested them go and check
out the pirated SLPs? What if she'd fought harder against Dalla
buying one, instead of standing there doing nothing?
What
if, what if, what if.

Tears burned Anais' eyes as she watched over Dalla's lifeless form.
She wiped them furiously away but more kept coming to take their
place. She was holding onto every shred of hope she had that Dalla
would miraculously open her eyes; that she would stretch and smile
her warm, beautiful smile once more. But instead she stayed still
and limp and pale, as with every passing hour the likelihood of her
ever waking up faded.

There was a noise outside. Anais reluctantly tore her gaze away
from Dalla, blinking away the last few tears to see Mr and Mrs
Goddard standing outside their daughter's room. A medic was with
them, no doubt explaining to Mrs Goddard for the hundredth time why
they couldn't do anything else for Dalla except to watch and see if
her condition improved.

“
-
utterly ridiculous. My daughter is lying there dying and you're
telling me there's nothing you can do to help her.” Mrs Goddard's
voice echoed through the room as the door slid open automatically.
She stopped short as she saw Dalla lying on the bed. Her already
puffy eyes filled with tears.

“
My
baby,” she whispered. Mr Goddard squeezed his wife's shoulder, as
he too stared down at Dalla, his face still white with shock. For
the moment they both seemed to have forgotten Anais was there.
They'd thanked her when they'd first arrived at the hospital for
alerting the medics so quickly, but since then the three of them had
barely spoken a word to each other as they all sat around Dalla's
bedside and waited for some sign that she was going to pull through.

“
Mrs
Goddard,” the medic that had been speaking to them outside
followed them into the room. “I can assure you, we're doing
everything we possibly can for your daughter. But cases like this
are extremely rare. The odds of a body rejecting an ID chip are
about one in two million, especially in cases like this were the
body rejects the chip with no prior warning. Usually, the patient
tampers with their chip or their brain somehow, and that's why the
body begins to reject it.”

“
And
what kinds of tampering could cause someone to reject their ID
chip?” Mr Goddard's low voice spoke up. He was staring hard at the
medic. “What are you insinuating about my daughter?”

The medic held up his hands.

“
Nothing,”
he said placatingly. “I'm just telling you the truth. Cases like
this are usually seen in alcoholics, drug addicts, or people who try
to 'upgrade' or download additional software onto their ID chip. But
like I said, even then it's extremely rare for this kind of reaction
to occur.”

“
So
cut it out,” Mr Goddard said, agitated. “Cut the damn thing out
and get her another one.”

“
It's
not that simple. You know it's against the law for anyone to remove
their ID chip without prior permission from the city council - and
that includes medical procedures. In Miss Goddard's case -” he
hesitated . “There's no guarantee that we'd be granted permission
before...”

He tailed off, but he didn't need to finish his sentence.

Mrs Goddard sat back down next to her daughter, clutching Dalla's
pale hand tightly in her own, silent tears glazing her cheeks. Mr
Goddard was still arguing with the medic, but Anais had tuned them
out.

She
felt sicker than ever. An awful feeling had descended over her as
the medic's words confirmed what she already suspected.
Tampering
with their chip
...that
was exactly what Dalla had done less than forty eight hours ago. And
Anais had let her go through with it, just because in her own
fantasies, she wanted to buy one too. She'd let Dalla be her guinea
pig, and look at what had happened. She should've listened to
Xander's warning. She should've stopped Dalla. She should've done
more to talk her out of it.

Guilt clawed at her insides, and suddenly she couldn't bear to be
in that small room with Dalla's parents and Dalla lying motionless
between them.

She stood up, knocking her chair backwards in her hurry.

“
Need
some air,” she mumbled, but the Goddards were too busy shouting at
young medic to pay her any attention.

She pushed her way through the ward doors and stumbled down the
corridor, unsure of whether she was going to be sick or have a panic
attack, or both. Medics in white uniforms and patients sitting
serenely on white plastic chairs stared at her as she hurried past.
She spotted an illuminated sign for the female toilets and followed
it, her vision blurring. The toilet door slid open and she stumbled
inside, locking the door behind her. Once she was safely enclosed in
the softly lit space, she sank to the floor by the toilet and
retched, hot tears leaking out of her eyes as she did so. Once she
was was finished, she wiped her mouth shakily and sat down on the
cold tiles, leaning her head back against the cool wall.

She still felt sick. Hot guilt burned in her stomach. She closed
her eyes, but all she could see was Dalla's body convulsing in her
arms, Dalla's parents shouting hysterically as they barged into the
room, and Xander. Hot, burning shame engulfed her as she remembered
the look Xander had given her as he rushed into Dalla's hospital
room the previous night. The look he'd given her as she'd explained
in a whisper what she and Dalla had done and how the medics believed
she might never recover. He hadn't said a word, but his silence said
more than his words ever could. He'd sat with her through the night,
only leaving an hour or so ago to go to work. Perhaps he realised
how much Anais was hurting over the whole incident because before he
left, he'd pulled Anais into a hug and whispered in her ear.

“
Don't
blame yourself,” he'd murmured, squeezing her hand.

The trouble was, she already did.

*

People on the train gave Anais a wide berth.

She was still dressed in yesterday's overalls which were still
covered in dirt, dust and oil. She'd splashed some water on her face
to get rid of the worst of the grease and grit that coated it, but
her hair was an explosion of pink and there were dark circles under
her eyes from going almost twenty four hours without sleep. She
noticed several people murmuring and smirking as they took in her
appearance, while others simply gave her a horrified look and edged
away as far as the carriage would allow them.

She trudged up to the factory, keeping her gaze on the ground. She
hadn't wanted to leave Dalla's side, but even she realised there was
nothing she could do with Dalla still in a coma. Mrs Goddard had
promised to let her know the second anything changed, but so far
Anais' eyesight remained clear of any new messages.

Anais scanned her ID chip at the doors, and made her way directly
to the factory floor. The large space was just as airless as it had
been the previous day. Barely five minutes after Anais received her
first call on her alarm, she was already struggling to breathe.
Luckily she was granted a brief respite when her manager, Mr
Mullins, appeared unexpectedly in front of her, beckoning for her to
follow him. Anais snapped the cover back over the gears of a large,
clanking machine she'd been staring at for the last ten minutes and
followed him outside.

As soon as the main steel doors closed behind them, Mr Mullins
rounded on her.

“
I
don't know what you're playing at Miss Finch, but I suggest you
clean up your act - literally,” Mr Mullins said, his lip curling
in disgust as he took in her dirty uniform.

“
I
wasn't -” Anais started, but he cut her off.

“
Do
you think this kind of work is beneath you, Miss Finch? Do you think
you're better than anyone else in that room? Well, let me tell you
something - you're not. We might be a factory, but we have strict
dress protocols here, just like every other employer in the city. So
I suggest you start following them, unless you want to start looking
for a new employer,” Mr Mullins said curtly. He nodded towards the
changing rooms. “Off you go.”

Anais glared at him, wanting with all her might to make a retort
back. But even in her sleep deprived state she realised that might
not be the best move.

“
Yes
sir,” she muttered as snarkily as she dared. She turned to go, but
he called her back as though another thought had just occurred to
him.

“
And
Anais, this time will be taken from your lunch break. You have ten
minutes before I expect you back on the floor.” He turned and
scanned his ID chip, disappearing back through the great metal
doors.

Anais stomped down the corridor and up a flight of stairs to the
changing rooms. They were empty at this time as the first shift of
the day was in full swing. She selected a pair of clean overalls
from the gently rotating rack on the far wall and made her way into
the shower room. She discarded her old overalls on the floor and the
glass panel of the shower in front of her slid open. It wasn't much
– the shower stalls were small and the water was lukewarm at best
– but to Anais it felt like heaven. She waved her hand over the
shower's sensor panel, and the smell of citrus fruit filled the air
as shower gel mixed in with the water cascading down over her head.

She wished she had longer, but after a few moments, she reluctantly
stepped out of the stall, smelling a lot cleaner and dressed in
pristine navy overalls. She scooped her damp hair up and twisted it
into a loose bun, before wrapping it under a hair net.

Back on the factory floor, the air was still barely breathable but
Anais felt a lot more awake. She dutifully answered the calls on her
alarm, and only got shouted at twice during the first couple of
hours. It wasn't until her shift was nearly over that her path
crossed with Mr Mullins's again. She'd been called to one of the
hundreds of conveyor belts, which had stopped running and was
causing a backlog through the system. She had no idea what she was
supposed to be doing, but luckily there were several other mechanics
there, who were also scratching their heads.

“
Might
be a roller,” a man with cropped deep orange hair was saying, as
he examined the machine's underbelly.

“
Nah,
can't be. Probably the belt's misaligned again,” said a woman with
dark blue hair and bright green eyes. She turned to Anais. “What
d'you reckon?”

“
Oh,
um -” Anais said, flustered, but at that moment, Mr. Mullins
popped up as suddenly as though he'd been there the whole time.

“
What's
going on?” he hissed. “What's happening here? You're causing a
blockage.”

He pointed behind them and sure enough, Anais could see other
machines being to grind to halt, as more and more picochips began to
pile up. Other workers in their section of the factory were
beginning to look over at them curiously as their own machines began
to fail.

“
Look,
just get this fixed, now,” Mr Mullins snapped. “We have a huge
order to fill by the end of the week, and we cannot afford to have
any more delays. You can all have ten credits docked off your wages
for every minute more that this remains broken.”

“
What?”
Anais burst out, outraged. “That's not fair! We didn't break your
precious machine.”

Anais could sense the man and the woman staring at her. Mr
Mullins's jaw tightened. He took a step towards her, but as he was a
few inches shorter than she was, it didn't make much difference.