Wake Me In The Future (30 page)

With our arms restrained we four protesters, because that’s what I'd now officially become, were marched through the door to captivity, and as we were unceremoniously bundled through the public entrance of the library we were joined by a fifth. The bound figure of the librarian, being pushed forward, joined us, as she struggled against her restraints and demanded to know what she was being held for.

Ramoon had used Ankit well.

Chapter 31
- Imprisoned

I'd been drugged or turned off, or whatever it was that could be done to these bodies to knock them out. Because when I woke up I knew I’d not been in a normal sleep. The last thing I remembered was being marched, along with my fellow protesters, into a large container that had appeared outside the library. Then everything had gone black, as if someone had turned off a switch in my head.

I lifted myself onto my elbow from the cot I'd woken on, and looked around at the familiar surroundings. For a moment I thought I’d been bought back to the White Room, but it occurred to me that all rooms in institutions probably looked like this.

And anyway, when my eyes fully adjusted to the brightness I saw it wasn’t as large as the White Room, and there were no signs of a doorway or vid-screen on the walls. But just to make sure that it wasn't my eyes playing tricks on me, I stood up and went over to the opposite wall and said, ‘I’d like some coffee please.’ But no response came, and nor did any panel appear to present me with a drink.

I lay back down on the cot and closed my eyes to see if I could contact Jon; my advanced senses weren’t working anymore! They’d turned those off as well.
I should have expected that,
I thought.

So this must be prison in the thirty third century then;
my freedom, and my senses, taken away.

Blast!
I felt totally useless. I couldn’t even talk to the others who'd been apprehended with me to ask why Jon hadn’t turned up.

I wondered how long I’d be kept here and what, if any, legal rights I had. Was I allowed the equivalent of a phone call? Whatever I expected, or was actually going to be given in that respect, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was in danger. If Ramoon was actually arranging the deaths of all Cryogens then what was my fate? A nasty accident I was sure.

At least the room they'd confined me in was mimicking the daylight cycle of the surface, just like the White Room had. Constant light would have been torture and I was relived when the lights finally dimmed and I could get some natural sleep.

When I woke the following morning a pungent smell hit my nostrils. It was cooked food; the smell of scrambled eggs not only reacted with my nose, but also fired up my stomach. It made me realise how hungry I was feeling. I rolled over and saw a steaming bowl of food on the floor by the opposite wall. Next to it, propped up and facing me, was an info-tablet and to my right I saw that a small room, which I assumed was a bathroom, had formed in the corner.

I walked over and bought the objects back to my cot. I put the tablet down and began to satisfy my strongest need by eating the food. The psyche was a strange thing, I thought, because I definitely knew that I didn’t need to eat to survive, they couldn’t starve me to death. Nevertheless the hunger was still with me, and I had to satisfy it, before dealing with what I knew was more important; the info-tablet.

When I’d finished I put the spoon inside the empty bowl and placed them back against the wall.

Sitting back on the cot I touched the power button, the tablet expanded in my hands, and the familiar, and now to me, repellent, face of Ramoon appeared on its screen.

‘Hello Richard, I hope you’re enjoying your little rest. We won’t be inconveniencing you for long, I can assure you. I just wanted to bring you up to speed with a few things.

I expect you must be feeling rather smug at knowing Jon is still safe and sound, but although I have to admit to being disappointed that he’s a lot less trusting than you, it’s not been a complete disaster. I’ve been able to legitimately take you into custody and we also have the other protesters to be working on, as well as that traitorous librarian.

Your numbers are dwindling and that’s enough to satisfy me at the moment.

And don't worry about Rachel and Jane; I've confined them to Maya's house where I am quite confident that they’ll be kept under control. I am not sure if they’re involved with your illegal activities yet, but I am sure I’ll find out. Maya and Mazood have done nothing to hide their distaste of their daughter’s choice of partner so I am confident they’ll find out the truth and show her the error of her ways.’

I sat upright when Ramoon mentioned Rachel and Jane.
It sounds like he doesn’t know that anyone other than me is involved
.
Has Ankit kept everyone else out of this?
The less Ramoon knew about anything the better, so I had to be careful not to let myself be drawn into revealing that I knew about Jane.

‘As for Ankit,’ Ramoon went on, ‘well, what can I say? He’s far too soft, he really does care for you Richard, I had no choice but to take the action I have to assure his loyalty.’

He held one of his hands in front of him and clicked his fingers as if to remind himself of something. ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘and by the way, I just thought I’d show you what we’ll be doing to you in about a week’s time.’

The screen went blank for a second before a torturous image appeared. The librarian was lying on her back, wearing a pitch black body suit and tied spread eagled to a low plinth in the centre of an empty room.

On one wall was a large outlet that looked to me like the engine jet of a plane. As I focused on the image of the woman, who was clearly in great distress, the engine roared into life and a huge plume of fire engulfed the screaming figure. It was over in a few seconds but was horrible to watch, and when the jet cut off, the image focused on the only thing left in the room. A gleaming object rolling around on the floor that slowly came to a halt before the hated voice of Ramoon came back through the device.

‘That is all that remains of the people we want to remove Richard. By the time we’ve finished, this person will be reborn and running about in a new body, unaware of any of her previous experiences, or that she ever knew a Cryogen. And like the Manooran she is, she’ll believe, and act, like a
New model
human
. Just like every Cryogen will that we eventually do this to.

You should have been satisfied with your new life, and forgotten the Cryogen project. Believe me, it would have been a lot safer for you. I’ll see you soon Richard…….’ And the screen flicked off.

For a few seconds the shape of Ramoon’s face lingered on my retinas. This was the man that was responsible for the mess my life had become. For some unknown reason he’d deliberately made me give up on Helen and
he
thought nothing of destroying anyone who crossed him. And the way I was feeling about him right now, I’d have gladly done the same to him.

When I woke the following day, another bowl of the delicious breakfast sent its aroma on a mission to entice my senses. But no info-tablet kept it company this morning; Ramoon must have gained as much satisfaction as he wanted by sending that first message.

But when I picked up the bowl and turned around, I was surprised to see that there was an info-tablet after all, propped up against the wall at the foot of my cot.

When I retrieved it, this time ignoring the messages of hunger that were bombarding me, I turned it on, and instead of seeing another message from Ramoon as I expected, I was surprised, and my spirits lifted, when Jon’s face suddenly appeared in the screen. ‘Richard, I am sorry I didn’t trust you when your friend Ankit set up the meeting, but as it transpired that was a good call on my part. One of our sympathisers has managed to get this message to you. We’re working on a plan to get you out but it’s going to be difficult. I’ll get word to you as soon as I can.

We can’t afford to communicate openly because of the security in the systems, but you can record a message on this tablet and leave it where you found it, and our contact will retrieve it during the night.

In the meantime, say nothing to Ramoon about Helen. The less he thinks you know the better.’

After I'd recorded my message I lay down on my cot, hoping to God that Jon could act quickly enough. I looked up at the stark white ceiling. In its overpowering whiteness an image of Helen appeared and I smiled at her.
I don’t know how this is all going to pan out, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
I thought, and then more lovingly, I whispered, 'Goodnight Helen.'

And closing my eyes I found her image still floating in my mind, like a beacon waiting to lead me once again into our earlier life and to the events that had led us both to make the choices that had bought us to this strange place.

Chapter 32
- A Love Affair Extraordinaire

Throughout the time leading up to our marriage, Helen had continued to fascinate me with her quirky views on the world, and it wasn’t long before I realised I’d found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I was convinced she felt the same way too; at least I prayed she did, because it was an unconventional proposal I put to her whilst we were at Nottingham's annual ‘Goose Fair’. And I risked looking an absolute fool if my assessment of her feelings were wrong.

I’d arranged, and paid, for us to be stopped at the top of the Big Wheel, which looked out over the sea of multi coloured synchronised neon lighting, that lit up the vast expanse of the recreation ground just outside the city centre. The area paid host at the beginning of each October, to what had, at the time, been considered the biggest travelling fair in Europe.

High above the noisy crowds the smell of hot dogs, onions and mushy peas pervaded the air, and struggling against the din of the rides, still thrilling their passengers below us, I turned to her as she jumped at our abrupt stop and said to her reassuringly.

‘It’s alright Helen ---don’t be frightened, I’ve arranged for us to stop because there’s something I want to say.’ Then taking a breath of the cold air, I continued with the words I’d been memorising for the past few weeks.

‘Helen, I love you more than I ever thought I could love anybody, in fact I worship you. You surprise me almost every day when we’re together. I love your strength and your commitment in what you believe, and especially that funny laugh of yours. I could never get tired of being with you, in fact I feel all alone when you’re not with me.’ Looking into her eyes I said, ‘look behind you.’

As she looked over her shoulder she smiled in surprise as she recognised the group of familiar faces standing on the hillside looking up at us.

I'd gathered our friends together and each one was holding up a self illuminated letter, which happened to be that year’s novelty at the fair. One by one all the letters were turned in our direction to reveal the words, ‘Helen - will you marry me?’

She turned back to me and nodded through her tears.

We were married the following year; after all, what was the point in waiting? We both knew this was it. The only disagreement we’d ever had, and it was only a slight one, was over the wedding ring. I'd thought a classic gold and diamond ring was perfect for her to reflect how pure I thought she was. But somehow she fell in love with an unconventional silver band with two bright octagonal sapphires embedded in a circle of gold. It just didn’t seem right to me, she could have had any ring in the store but she chose that one.

‘When we’re not together this will remind me of looking into your eyes,’ she’d told me. ‘It’s the one I want.’ she asserted, and that was good enough for me and how it ended up on the third finger of her left hand. And determination to return her romantic gesture led me to choose the same design for myself, only with emeralds that matched the colour of her own eyes.

The only other thing that was unconventional about our wedding was Helen's choice of flowers for the reception. On each table stood an arrangement dominated by dandelions, her favourite flowers. Although everyone else considered them weeds, she loved them, and somehow that hadn’t surprised me at all; just one of the many quirky things that had made me fall in love with her.

Throughout the 1980’s I'd continued to work at the bank and together Helen and I had made sound financial decisions and prospered during the boom years. We saved and invested wisely and even through the slump of the 1990s we managed to invest in housing stock, a couple of investment properties in the city and some shares in the newly arrived dot com businesses of the late 1990s.

Although I was the one working in a bank, it was Helen who had a remarkable talent for following the markets and she had been wise enough to move all our investments to the housing market before the bursting of the dot com bubble. This placed us in a very strong position to weather the economic disaster when the global economy began its disastrous collapse in 2008.

Our investment portfolio, although not worth as much, and reduced considerably in value, was still bringing in a decent amount and allowed me to take advantage of a very generous redundancy package from the bank.

Helen had started out with quite different aspirations. Her social conscience led her into a caring profession and she’d begun work in a rest home and even when it became obvious we didn’t need the money she continued to work. It eased her social conscience to know she was helping others. 'These people could be my grandparents,' she often said, 'and someday this will be me. Someone has to protect their dignity and give them the care they deserve.
'

‘I’ll give up work when the first baby arrives’ she’d promised.

But our attempts to start a family had all come to naught. Like so many things in life, it just wasn’t fair.

‘It’s not your fault,’ she said quietly as she knelt in front of my sobbing form, ‘its just one of those things,’ and holding my hands she continued, ‘one in seven couples they said, one in seven, that’s a lot of couples that can’t have kids.’