Synthetica (36 page)

“
You're
going to be okay, Anais,” he said gently, his eyes looking into
her. She managed to give him a tiny smile.

“
You've
got another visitor by the way,” Xander added as he reached the
door. “Do you want to see them, or shall I ask them to come back
later?”

“
Let's
get it over with,” Anais said, not even bothering to wonder who it
could be. She wanted everyone to leave as soon as possible so she
could be left alone with the yawning emptiness that was threatening
to engulf her. The sooner everyone left her alone, the sooner she
could lose herself in that blackness; she wouldn't have to feel, or
think about anything else.

Xander left. A moment later, the door opened again and Officer
Hughes stepped inside. Anais stared at her. The policewoman looked
younger than usual, her face pale.

“
Anais,”
she said.

“
Officer
Hughes,” Anais could barely find the strength to speak the words.
She had a recollection of having missed an appointment with the
policewoman, but she didn't have the energy to think about the
consequences of her actions. Maybe Officer Hughes was here to arrest
her. She didn't particularly care if she was.

“
Please,”
Officer Hughes sat down next to the bed. “Call me Alice.”

When Anais remained silent, Officer Hughes spoke again.

“
You
missed two of our meetings,” she said, though there was no
reproach in her voice. “You were supposed to tell me all about the
SLPs.”

“
Sorry,”
Anais said, not sorry at all. “I got caught up in a few things.”

“
I
can see that,” Officer Hughes' eyes took in her bandages. “You
went to the parade. And you were at the picochip factory. It seems
wherever you go, trouble isn't far behind.”

Her words brought another memory to front of Anais' exhausted mind.

“
That's
exactly what Nox said,” Anais told her. “When he tried to arrest
me at the parade. What's his problem?”

Officer Hughes was silent for a moment.

“
Officer
Nox is an exceptional officer. No really,” she added as Anais
rolled her eyes. “He is. He's just...very hotheaded. And
ambitious. Once he gets an idea in his head, it's very hard to
persuade him otherwise. I think he saw these attacks as an
opportunity to prove himself, and he got carried away thinking he
could catch the culprit single-handed.”

“
You're
telling me,” Anais muttered.

“
I
came to tell you something,” Officer Hughes said. “I was going
to tell you at our meeting, but you didn't show up. You were right
about the murderer's ID chips. I checked all the bodies. They all
looked the same. I know it doesn't matter now, not after the Hacker
sent his message loud and clear, but I thought you'd like to know.”

Anais stared up at the ceiling. Officer Hughes was right. It didn't
matter now. Nothing mattered anymore. After a moment, Officer Hughes
stood up.

“
Well,”
she said awkwardly. “That's all. You're not in trouble for failing
to come and see me, if that's what you were wondering. I should
really issue you with an official caution, but in the
circumstances...”

Her voice tailed away. Still Anais' eyes remained on the lights in
the ceiling. Officer Hughes was almost at the door, when Anais
finally spoke.

“
Wait,”
she said.

Officer Hughes paused, her hand on the button to open the door.

“
Why
did you stick up for me?” Anais asked. “At the police station.
And why did you let me see Marcus? Nox was right – you should've
kept me in for questioning. But you've always let me go. Why?”

Officer Hughes gave her a searching look. Her brown eyes seemed
full of sadness.

“
I
once knew a girl like you. She also got caught up in something that
wasn't her fault. You...you reminded me of her. And it just made me
think...maybe...maybe someone had given her a chance, if someone had
stopped to listen to her side of the story, she'd still be alive
today. I didn't want the same thing to happen to you.”

Officer Hughes' eyes had filled with tears. Anais was lost for
words. Officer Hughes gave her a curt nod, before turning quickly
away and opening the door. The door slid shut behind her, leaving
Anais completely alone.

Now that she was on her own, Anais didn't know what to do with
herself. The room was suddenly too quiet.

“
HV
on,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse. The hologram came to
life and she was immediately greeted with footage of the day's
events, showing the Hacker speaking on the giant screens, followed
by live coverage of the aftermath of the explosion at picochip
factory. The fire still raged on, clouds of smoke spiralled up into
the night sky.

She didn't want to focus on the explosion. She searched through the
channels, but all normal broadcasting had been replaced by news
reports, endlessly showing and analysing what the Hacker had done.

Anais left the HV on, just for the noise. She tried to bring up the
NIC in her eyesight, but her vision was clear. She blinked, but
nothing popped up. She looked round and saw a tiny vial on the
bedside table next to her. They'd taken out her RetCom. Instead, by
her bed was a long metal flexi-pole with a glass screen attached.

She leant over and pulled the glass tablet, bending the flexi-pole
towards her. She typed in her ID number and began looking for
something, anything, to take her mind off the grief and despair that
were threatening to overcome her again. An unfamiliar icon flashed
on the screen and she paused. The Civitas 'C' was glowing in the
centre of a small envelope. With some trepidation, she clicked on
the icon and began to read:

Miss Anais Finch

ID: 760912

Wednesday
15
^th
September

Dear Miss Anais Finch,

Congratulations!

Due to unforeseen circumstances, we
are delighted to offer you a placement in our Program Development
Internship! Congratulations on securing a place on this highly
competitively program!

We will send you further details
shortly, confirming your start date and salary.

We look forward to working with you!

Best Wishes,

The Civitas Recruitment Team

There was a tiny postscript added to the bottom of the message:

*A - don't forget our agreement.
We still have work to do. S.

By the time she finished, she could barely see the writing anymore.
She stared at the screen for a moment, unmoving, before ripping the
glass tablet out of it's holding. She threw it at the wall, where it
smashed into hundreds of pieces. It did nothing to quieten the rage
inside her.

She leant back on her pillows, allowing the noise from the HV to
wash over her; no longer listening, no longer caring about anything
much. She stared out of the window for a long time. She watched as
the lights of the city burned ever brighter, as night began to fall.

He slammed his fist into the keyboard in frustration.

The woman had survived having her ID chip cut out. Two of his
intended targets had also managed to escape. His program had been
foiled. In a fit of rage, he tore everything off the desk, hurling
tools, picochips and plates full of old food against the wall.

He clutched his head in his hands. Where had he gone wrong? How
had this happened? It shouldn't have been possible.

Gradually, his breathing began to return to normal. It would be
okay. So far, one thousand of his programs were online from the
fools that had purchased them willingly today. It was a fraction of
what he had hoped, but it was something. And the explosion at the
factory had gone like a dream.

He slowly sat back down at his computer screen, thinking hard.
The SLPs could wait, for now. He brought up his hacked version of
the CID and typed in one name. The name he'd heard the purple haired
boy speak today at the parade. Anais.

It was enough. There were only three entries in the CID. He
clicked on the top one, and felt a sense of satisfaction. The girl
in the photograph had the same pink hair, the same shaped face. It
was her. He read through the information shown on the screen,
devouring everything he could. He would find out everything he could
about this girl – where she lived, what she ate, who she talked
to. And then he would destroy her.

Something else occurred to him. The boy she was with today - he
had been one of his Civitas targets. He typed the boy's name into
the CID and brought up his photo, so they both stared out at him
from the screen side by side.

“
Anais
Finch.” The name seemed to roll off his tongue and he smiled
behind his mask.

Anais Finch.

He was coming for her next.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Back in 2009, I had an idea for a book. It wasn't this
one.

That book (a dystopian tale about a girl addicted to
sex, who lived in a town that was covered by a glass globe due to a
nuclear war that had ravaged the world outside) never really worked
out – I can't think why. But it did teach me a few important
lessons that would stick with me through the years, until I finally
got my act together and wrote my first full novel, which is the one
you've (hopefully) just read.

The first, is that no matter how crazy the story
sounded, no matter how I often I thought out loud about various
plots and subplots, heroes and villains, Alan would always be there
to hear me out. I've lost count of the number of times I've suddenly
blurted out a random question about computer hacking or superhero
powers or what effect living under a glass globe might have on the
economy; only to be greeted with patience and understanding, as
thought it's the most natural thing in the world to have your
partner turn to you and say, 'if you created a computer program that
could be downloaded directly to your brain, what would the effects
on society be?' And so, I can only say to Alan – thank you. Thank
you for constantly pushing onwards and upwards, and for your
complete faith in me, even when I had no faith in myself.

The next lesson I learnt was that people are always
willing to help if you ask for it. Back when I was struggling to
write that awful dystopian story, my friend Laura became my writing
buddy and pushed me to write, write, write and write some more.
Unfortunately, there is no handy cafe near me now, where I can go to
write and have a good catch up with old friends. But thanks to the
magic of the internet, my beta readers have still helped and
encouraged me every step of the way on my journey to write this
novel. So, to Sarah, Fiona, Hannah and Laura – thanks for cheering
me on and forcing me to stick (more or less) to my deadlines. You
guys rock!

Lastly, I found out both through attempting to write
that novel, as well as starting and abandoning countless others,
that the only way a book gets written is through hard work and
determination. But I would never have had the perseverance to
continue with this novel, if it hadn't have been to all the
wonderful members of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Without
your constant help and encouragement, as well as putting up with my
monthly neurotic ramblings, there is no way I ever would have had to
the courage to finish this. To each and every one of you – thank
you!

My last fun fact for you is that I was raised on a
dairy farm. To this day, I can't drive past a field of cows without
looking to see what breed they are, what they're eating, how healthy
they look, whether they're in calf or not etc...but despite this
obsession with cows, being raised on a farm also gave me another
blessing – a lot of time to think. I have come up with hundreds
upon hundreds of story and novel ideas while milking cows and
feeding calves. A large majority of them will never see the light of
day, but I still find working on my parent's farm incredibly
liberating while I'm dreaming up a new novel idea. And so, last but
by no means least, I'd like to thank my mum and dad.

My parents never once stopped me from reading a book –
which imparted a lifelong love of reading and, obviously, a strong
inclination to write. They have always put up with my crazy ideas
(whether writing related or not), despite the worry I probably
constantly cause them. So, to mum and dad, all I can say is thank
you. For everything.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel
Pattinson graduated from Oxford Brookes University with a BA Hons in
Publishing Media. Born and raised in the north of England, she
shares a love for anything to do with tea, cake, bread and butter,
rain, the dark, lakes, fells and Lord of the Rings. She now lives in
Norfolk with her partner in crime, and is currently working on
several new projects, including the sequel to
Synthetica.

Find
out more at
www.rachelpattinson.blogspot.co.uk

Or follow her on Twitter: @REPattinson1