Synthetica (8 page)

Marcus snorted.

“
Poor?
Do you realise how much the management here make a year? Besides,
she was clearly lying. No one gets that defensive if they've got
nothing to hide.”

Dalla closed her eyes as though praying from patience. When she
opened them again, she seemed to have calmed down, although there
was still a trace of annoyance on her features.

“
I'm
going to a HelixPod for a pick-me-up. God knows I need it after that
fiasco. Thanks for getting us the passes, Xander. Anais, I'll
message you later about meeting up tomorrow, okay?”

Anais nodded. Dalla's face softened slightly as she hugged her.

“
We
can see about those SLPs, and maybe do a bit of shopping,” she
said as they broke apart.

“
What's
that?” Xander glanced at them both. Anais deliberately avoided his
gaze, choosing to stare at a spot on the granite floor instead.

Dalla nodded towards Marcus.

“
Marcus
says someone's selling pirated SLPs for cheap. We thought we'd check
it out.”

Xander's face told Anais exactly what he thought of this plan. He
didn't say anything but goodbye as Dalla took her leave. Marcus
followed her out, after a quick nod towards Anais, jabbering away in
her ear. It was obvious from Dalla's stiff posture that he wouldn't
be welcome for much longer.

There was an uncomfortable silence. As Dalla and Marcus marched out
of the glass doors, Xander finally turned back to Anais, his smile
frozen on his face.

“
So,”
he said lightly. “Pirated SLPs?”

Anais gulped. As she opened her mouth to reply, Xander cut across
her.

“
I
think we should talk about this outside,” he said, with an edgy
glance around the now empty atrium. Anais nodded. Their footsteps
echoed across the vast space as the pair walked towards the exit. As
the doors slid open, they were greeted by a blast of warm evening
air. Although it was the beginning of autumn, the days remained hot
and sunny while the nights grew ever colder. The golden evening sun
still gave out some heat, but a cool wind was beginning to pick up,
making the temperature outside somewhat more bearable.

Anais checked the time on her RetCom, startled to see it was almost
five. She should've been home ages ago. Her parents would be
swapping shifts soon, and then it would be her mum sending her
messages asking where she was.

“
Anais,”
Xander stopped walking and Anais turned to face him. His indigo eyes
searched her face for a long moment before he spoke again. “I know
what you're thinking. I know it's tempting to take what seems like
the easy way out. But you don't know who's made these SLPs, or what
their purpose is. How well do you know that Marcus guy? Don't you
think you should at least do some more research into them yourself,
first?”

A sense of indignation rose in Anais' chest. Xander knew nothing
about taking the easy way out. He'd gotten the job he wanted, he was
set for life. Yet he was gazing at her with such concern, that Anais
felt guilty for even thinking about the pirated SLPs. But this was
important to her. No matter how much she tried to put a positive
spin on it, she just couldn't bear the thought of working in the
factory, not for the rest of her life. It was her future. It was her
choice.

“
I
wasn't expecting that reaction, I thought you'd tell me not to buy
tech from the black market, ” she said, choosing to ignore his
questions.

“
I'd
never tell you what you can or can't do. It's your choice.”

Anais had no reply to that. Xander sighed.

“
Look,
you can do what you like. If you're worried about me telling someone
at Civitas about the pirated SLPs, I won't; not if you don't want me
to. They probably should know,” Xander shrugged. “But they'll
find out soon enough from someone else. Just promise me you'll at
least think about this first.”

“
Thanks,”
Anais muttered. “I will.” Something that didn't feel right to
her, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Xander's words
had put her on edge.

“
So,
shall I meet you at eight?” Xander's attempt to lighten the
conversation wasn't lost on Anais. But she had so many different
thoughts swirling around her head, not least how to take what Xander
had just told her, that she shook her head.

“
Actually,
do you mind if we reschedule?” she asked. Xander looked surprised
and a little hurt, but he tried to hide it.

“
No,
that's fine. Any particular reason?”

Anais forced herself to look him in the eye.

“
No,
I just wanted to walk home and clear my head a bit. It's been a long
day,” she replied, and Xander's face softened.

“
Alright.
I'll send you an invite tomorrow. Maybe we could meet up on Monday?
Tell me all about your first day?”

“
Sounds
good.”

“
Are
you sure you don't want me to walk you home?” Xander's eyes were
full of concern in the gathering dusk, but Anais smiled and shook
her head.

“
I'll
be fine. I'll let you know when I get back,” Anais said, reaching
up and kissing him softly on the lips. “See you later.”

Xander pulled her into a hug and for a moment, Anais felt safe and
content in his arms. But then he broke away, and the evening breeze
whistled between them.

“
Message
me as soon as you get home,” Xander called. Anais gave him a
cheery wave as she began to walk away. Her smile remained fixed on
her face, until she turned and started her long walk home alone.

*

The evening breeze was cool on her face, and the setting sun was
cast a golden glow over the street, illuminating passersby and
making them appear even more colourful than normal, but inside,
Anais felt cold.

She didn't know exactly why she felt this way. After all, she
thought as she began walking home, it wasn't Dalla's fault she was
brilliant at programming or that Xander was just as academically
gifted as her best friend; while Anais – well, what could she say?
At least she had a job at the picochip factory. At least she
wouldn't be one of those students that had been deemed
'unplaceable', that would spend the rest of their lives struggling
to make ends meet. She kicked angrily at a stone on the pavement. It
skittered and came to rest on the smooth road that the auto-cabs
hovered over.

Her RetCom informed her that she was a minute's walk away from the
nearest train station, but she ignored it and instead programmed a
walking route home. Although it would be faster to take the train,
Anais preferred to walk whenever she was feeling particularly angry
or upset – being crowded into a carriage with a load of strangers
at rush hour would do nothing to improve her mood. An orange line
appeared in her vision, guiding her way down the street and round
the corner. She followed it, still angry but unsure of who she was
really mad at – Dalla, Xander, Mrs bloody Persimmon, the whole
stupid education and work system, or herself. She knew the real
answer – she just didn't want to admit it. It was far easier to
remain angry at someone else than to admit that she was the one in
the wrong.

The sun began to set, and the wind started to pick up. Anais' candy
floss pink hair blew softly over her face, and she brushed it back
impatiently. She followed the directions her RetCom set out in front
of her, wondering idly what the FDU would try to serve her when she
got home. If it had anything with egg or cottage cheese in, she was
going to disconnect it.

As she walked along, lost in her own little world, a new noise came
to her, just audible above the whistle of the wind. She blinked out
of her reverie and looked around. She wasn't too far from home now –
she knew without looking at the tiny screen over her eyeball, that
it was only another half an hour walk away. It was now nearly six
and the sky had begun to turn into the dusky blues and purples that
announced the coming of night. Tiny stars winked overhead, just
visible over the soft glow of the street lamps. The streets were
almost deserted as everyone hurried home to their pre-prepared
dinner after a hard day's work. Anais stopped as she heard the noise
again. It sounded like someone, or something, crying. A chill ran
down her spine.

It was coming from the small street to her left. The street lamps
only illuminated the first few metres at the opening of the alley,
the rest was in a pool of darkness. Anais hesitated, debating
whether to carry on her journey and call the police when she was
safely home, or to go and investigate. The cry came again, and
Anais' curiosity won out.

She peered into the entrance of the street, but couldn't make
anything out through the gloom. It was a walkway between the blocks
of hi-rise flats that made up most of the residential areas in the
city. Anais walked forward cautiously, her eyes gradually adjusting
the gloom after the soft pale glow of the lamps that lined the
street behind her. Her RetCom bleeped, informing her that she was
going the wrong way, but she dismissed the warning.

It soon became clear to Anais as she walked slowly forward, her
gaze flickering around the smooth paved walkway and the walls
towering above her, that there was nothing there. She was just about
to give up and turn back, when the cry came again – now that she
was closer, she could hear it much more clearly. It was lower now –
more like a moan than a cry for help. It was unmistakably the sound
of someone in pain. The groan came again, and the hairs stood up on
the back of Anais' neck. She walked a few steps forward, her heart
pounding, until she came to another walkway that intersected the one
she was on. She peered round the corner, and her heart stood still.

There, not ten metres away, was a man standing over a limp heap on
the ground. He had a brick in his hand and as Anais watched, he
raised it above his head. The heap of clothes at his feet jerked and
cried out.

“
Please,”
a man's voice moaned. His voice was muffled and he was clearly
trying to choke back the pain he was feeling. “Please – stop. I
don't -”

The
man standing over him didn't even appear to hear his victim's pleas.
He merely raised the brick higher and brought it heavily down
through the air, so it smashed with a sickening wet
crack
over
the injured man's head.

“
No!
Stop!”

The shrill shout was out, hanging in the air before Anais realised
it was her voice. She began to run forward, but stopped dead in her
tracks as the attacker turned and stared at her. For a long, frozen
moment, neither of them moved. They remained fixed on each other,
her pale green eyes locked onto his sickly yellow ones. Anais
couldn't help shuddering slightly – it wasn't the odd colour of
his eyes (plenty of people in the city had hideous coloured eyes,
all in the name of fashion), it was the fact that he was clearly
looking at her, and yet, not seeing her at all. The blankness of his
gaze, as though he was staring straight through her, was unnerving.
Anais' heart was in her throat. She wanted to move forward, to go to
the aid of the man lying in a steadily spreading pool of blood, but
she was afraid that if she moved first, the man would decide to
attack her instead.

As she stared at him, the man's eyes flickered and went dull.
Silently, without any warning, he crumpled to the ground, the
bloodied brick landing beside him with a dull thud. He started to
convulse, his eyes bulging, his arms and body jerking horribly.
Something dark dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, staining his
chin. Anais watched, frozen in horror as he choked and gargled,
before he finally went still, his eyes now staring blankly up at the
star strewn sky. Without waiting to see if he would get back up,
Anais ran forward and knelt beside the wounded man, who was now
silent. She ran her gaze over his body, unwilling to touch him
before she knew the extent of his injuries. Her RetCom pinpointed
the parts of his body that were in serious danger – but she
already knew without the red glow outlining his injuries, that it
was his head that was in the worst condition. He'd already been hit
quite a few times before she had found him, and she realised with a
sinking feeling that the basic first aid knowledge that had come
with her updated ID chip was of no use here.

She turned to the body of the attacker, who was still staring up at
the sky. He, too, looked beyond help. Blood dribbled from his mouth,
staining his clothes. But there was something else, something dark
on the side of his neck. It didn't look like blood, but before Anais
could move to get a closer look, a scream ripped through the cool
night air. She jumped and looked up to see a woman with white hair
tied back in a severe ponytail and holding several glossy carrier
bags, looking at her in horror. Anais glanced down and saw that the
man's blood was now splattered on her shirt – her jeans were
rapidly becoming wet from where the dark puddle was spreading out
from the man's body. She jerked her head back up to look at the
woman, who's eyes were popping. The woman dropped her bags on the
floor, and began backing down the walkway, her wide eyes still fixed
on the bloody scene in front of her.