Collaborators
Mitchell had not been subjected to the same inconveniences that President Josh Delman reserved for Damien Hunter. When he’d summoned Mitchell to a meeting, he’d been on time and shown great courtesy.
Mitchell had panicked he’d got the invitation. He’d been making his way back to The Climbs with a bag full of illegal tech. He knew they were after Wiz, but he wasn’t sure what his own fugitive status was. Thankfully he’d been away from the sewer on the night the others were caught.
He hoped he’d avoided detection – he was extremely careful with his tech. They couldn’t track what he was doing, Mitchell was sure of that. So why had he sensed the black vehicle following him, just as he was about to approach the road to the security gate into The Climbs?
He’d considered running as he watched the car stalking its prey in his peripheral vision. It would be hard to hide in his part of The City, probably impossible. Unlike The Climbs, there were security cameras everywhere. They formed a security matrix throughout Silk Road – there was no hiding in the ruins of the tower blocks as Wiz had been forced to do.
Could he beat the surveillance systems if he went on the run? Mitchell wasn’t sure. They’d all got the Gen-ID chips implanted, and they could certainly check which side of The City he was on. But could they locate his whereabouts from that? Mitchell thought not, though they’d be able to get a rough idea of where he was.
A car door opened behind him. Somebody was stepping out of the vehicle. This was his final chance. Should he stay cool or make a run for it? He made the decision in a split second. Whoever was approaching him was alone, there were no Centuria. Her body language was not aggressive. This did not appear to be a detention.
‘Mitchell Cranshaw?’
‘Yes,’ Mitchell replied, still not sure if running was his best option. She was dressed well, very confident and self-assured, extending her hand in welcome. Her arms were uncovered, and Mitchell immediately noticed she had no tattoo. No Gen-ID chip? He’d never seen that before.
He thought back to Wiz. Gestures like a handshake had died out in The Climbs. His friend wouldn’t have known how to respond to that approach. They were so different.
Mitchell put out his hand.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘You too,’ Mitchell began. She could see that he needed to be reassured.
‘I’m Teanna Schaelles. I’m with the President’s office. I manage special projects for Mr Delman. He’d like to speak with you, Mitchell.’
Again Mitchell wondered if he should run for his life. Why would the President’s office be interested in him? Sure, he’d made some impressive breakthroughs at work, but it was nothing that would attract Delman’s attention. He squeezed the handle on his bag a little tighter – as if that would protect him from anything if they searched him.
Mitchell felt sure it was connected to the side operation he had going on with Hannah, Lucy and the guys, but this approach was not hostile. Teanna Schaelles seemed friendly and respectful. There were no Centuria to be seen anywhere.
‘There’s nothing at all to worry about,’ she continued, sensing his doubt. ‘You’ve caught the attention of the President and he’d very much like to meet you. He wants to seek your expertise on a technical matter.’
Mitchell thought for a moment. Was a polite refusal even an option? He doubted it.
‘No problem, Mx Schaelles.’
‘Call me Teanna – please.’
‘No problem, Teanna. How about next week sometime?’
Her tone changed suddenly. This is what he’d been waiting for. It was a summons, not an invitation.
‘Mr Delman wants to see you this evening, Mitchell.’
There was no ‘please’, no questioning tone at the end of the sentence. It was a statement, not a request.
That’s why, after moving through security and into The Climbs, Mitchell delivered the tech to Wiz, did what he had to do and made sure he was back on Silk Road ready for the pick-up. The rendezvous was with Teanna once again; they’d arranged to meet in the same place they’d chatted earlier. Mitchell thought it would be safer that way.
He’d decided not to say anything to Talya or Wiz. That could wait until he had more detail. This was not a detention, it was a matter of seeking his advice. It was flattering to say the least. He’d keep it to himself and share the information if he needed to. Who knew where it might lead to?
Mitchell contemplated running again. This would be his last chance – if he ever got into that car, he’d be trapped. Once he got caught up in the Presidential offices he wouldn’t get out unless they wanted him to. He thought better of it, this had been a friendly approach. He’d attract more attention if he made a fuss.
‘May I let my parents know my whereabouts?’
‘They know already, Mitchell. They’re very honoured that their son has been invited to meet the President.’
The friendly tone was back. Surely this was safe for him? If he was being arrested they’d just have grabbed him and thrown him into the back of a van when they’d met earlier, wouldn’t they?
‘Okay, no problem. Are we travelling in your car?’
‘Yes, please step in, Mitchell. There’s a seat for you in the middle.’
No chance to escape if he was sandwiched between two people. He gave a final thought to running, then committed to getting inside the car with Teanna. As he shuffled along the back seat, he pressed up against a well-built man. He was suited and armed. He didn’t turn to acknowledge Mitchell, just sat there, staring ahead.
‘Don’t mind Troy, he doesn’t speak much,’ Teanna smiled. It was the lamest smile Mitchell had seen in a long time. He reckoned Troy didn’t need a lot of words in his line of work. His demeanour said it all.
They sat in silence as they drove to the Presidential offices. Security was tight as they entered the gates, but Mitchell got through without any trouble. Teanna and Troy had probably cleared the way already.
He thanked his good fortune, since as he stepped out of the car he was searched immediately. If they’d caught him with the tech he’d delivered to Wiz earlier, they might have been a little less welcoming.
Teanna escorted Mitchell into the building. There were iron doors, security cameras everywhere, and Troy lookalikes stationed at every entrance. Not a word was said by Teanna. She clearly had status and respect here – there were no security challenges and no ID cards to be swiped.
Eventually they came to a solid white wooden door, the only wooden door he’d spotted in the building. Teanna opened it up without knocking and showed him to the comfortable seating in front of a massive oak desk nestled in the large window.
There was barely time to look around the room before the President entered via a second door. Mitchell hadn’t spotted it straight away. It was concealed in the wall.
‘Ah, Mr Cranshaw, welcome. I see you’ve met Mx Schaelles?’
Mitchell jumped out of his seat and shook the President’s outstretched hand. His sleeves were rolled up as if he was in the middle of some work. No tattoo, no Gen-ID chip. It was probably because of his status.
‘May I call you Mitchell?’
‘Of course,’ Mitchell stammered. He wasn’t sure how to address the President. Like everybody else, he’d grown up with the President’s face on the screens, his voice booming out of the speakers. He seemed smaller in person. He was old too, still sturdy, but older than Mitchell had expected.
Teanna sat down and indicated that Mitchell should do the same. The President took a seat too and began to speak.
‘Mitchell, we’re aware of what you’re doing with your friends.’
Mitchell’s heart jumped and his stomach knotted. After all the friendly reassurances, he hadn’t been expecting that. He looked at President Delman. Teanna and Delman let the words hang there. The silence was painful. Mitchell felt compelled to speak – that was the whole point of the silent approach, of course.
‘Yes, we’ve been doing some interesting work on—’
Delman held up his hand.
‘Enough!
We want to know about your work in the sewer pipes in The Climbs.’
‘Oh,’ was all Mitchell could say. He didn’t know how to respond. What did they know?
More silence. He was sweating now and his face was red. The President and Teanna were old hands at this, they felt none of Mitchell’s discomfort.
‘Perhaps you’d like to tell us a little more?’ Teanna suggested.
Mitchell could see from their faces that he’d been rumbled.
‘We haven’t really discovered anything. We just found some old wiring down in the sewers and wondered where it went.’
President Delman studied him, and Mitchell felt his face redden further.
‘It was just a bit of fun really, nothing serious.’
He’d decided to play the ‘daft teenager’ card, but Delman and Teanna could see right through him.
‘Let me help you, Mitchell,’ the President began. ‘Two of your friends were detained today and one of them is on the run, isn’t that correct?’
Mitchell wondered if his face could turn any redder, he was burning up.
‘Um, yes, I think so.’
‘You think so? My sources tell me that Joe Parsons and Lucy Slater were detained this morning and that your friend Shen Li is currently wanted by the Centuria. Isn’t that correct?’
Mitchell hesitated as he figured out who Shen Li was.
You mean Wiz?’ he asked, then thought better of it. Had he just dropped Wiz in it? He was pleased to see that he hadn’t.
‘Yes, Shen Li, also known as Wiz,’ replied Teanna. She’d checked it on her WristCom as Mitchell had been speaking. Mitchell was embarrassed to admit to himself that he didn’t know Wiz’s real name. He’d always been Wiz. Mitchell realized they hadn’t mentioned Hannah yet. That was good, he’d keep quiet about Hannah unless they asked.
‘We seem to have got ourselves into some trouble,’ he offered. He still wasn’t sure where this was heading.
‘You can say that again!’ Delman exclaimed, and then calmed himself. He saw the effect he was having on Mitchell – he was clearly terrified. He adopted a different approach.
‘It’s unfortunate that Mr Hunter is now dealing with your friends, Mitchell. If you’d come to me with any concerns, I might have been able to keep everything away from Fortrillium’s attention. However, you’ve forced my hand now. He’s on to you.’
Mitchell was still trying to read the situation – he couldn’t tell if he was being courted or admonished.
‘You might not be aware, Mitchell, that Damien Hunter is a thorn in my side. There is no love lost between us.’
Mitchell was getting interested. The focus seemed to be moving in a new direction.
‘It’s most unfortunate that Mr Hunter has apprehended your friends. I would like very much to have worked with you and your companions. What you have achieved so far is nothing short of remarkable. I wish I’d known what you were capable of.’
Mitchell began to relax; he could feel the redness in his cheeks subsiding.
‘I want to make you an offer, Mitchell. I think that, bearing in mind the current peril facing your friends, it will be an attractive one.’
Mitchell noticed Teanna looking at Delman as he spoke. There was collusion here. Teanna knew exactly what was going on, she’d known all along. She must be very senior on the President’s staff. This was probably why she got to skip the Gen-ID chip. Mitchell nodded and indicated that the President should continue.
‘Your friends are in a very dangerous situation, Mitchell. Joe Parsons and Lucy Slater will almost certainly perish in The Grid.’
Mitchell’s stomach knotted again. The thought of Lucy … the prospect of her actually dying in the Justice Trial, hadn’t really sunk in. Delman forced him to recognize the truth of the situation.
‘Your friend – Wiz, did you say?’
Mitchell and Teanna nodded.
‘Your other friend will most likely be caught before long. The Centuria will track him down soon enough. But here’s the nub of it, Mitchell. I can see from your profile that your skills are an integral part of this little operation. It probably wouldn’t have happened without you?’
Mitchell wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and he just gave a silent nod again. He felt that the President was delivering an address. It didn’t feel like a dialogue. He was flattered. He was proud to be hearing those words from somebody so senior. Lucy had never acknowledged his contribution – or Joe and Wiz come to that. It was good to hear the President himself could see how important Mitchell had been.
‘I want you to work with me – with us,’ he continued, gesturing towards Teanna. ‘Mx Schaelles is the most trusted member of my team. Whatever you tell her will come straight back to me, she has my complete confidence.’
Mitchell had already seen enough of their relationship to see that they were very close; they appeared to be completely in tune with each other.
‘I want you to continue your work with Shen— Wiz, and Teanna will assist you in concealing his whereabouts. However, you report to us now, is that clear?’
‘It is, sir, and thank you for your kind words about my technical abilities. It’s good to be appreciated.’
Delman’s eyes narrowed. He’d just identified Mitchell’s weak spot.
‘Of course, it’s quite clear that you’re the brains behind this. After all, you’re the one in the President’s office right now, aren’t you?’
Distracted from the plight of his friends, Mitchell had allowed himself to be flattered. He was not accustomed to the adeptness of a skilled manipulator such as Delman. He’d fallen directly into the honey trap.
‘Well, I really appreciate you saying that, sir. It’s great to be acknowledged by somebody of your stature.’
‘No problem, Mitchell, no problem at all.’
‘So what should I do about Hannah James and Talya Slater, sir? They’re part of the team too?’
‘Are they really?’ Delman replied. He looked at Teanna and smiled.
‘Now, that we did not know, Mitchell.’
Regret
Hannah was exhausted by the events of the past half hour, she felt as if she were being split in two by an impossible conflict.
On the one hand she was being celebrated by her Gridder colleagues – the engagement scores had gone to an opening high of 9.3. It was difficult not to get caught up in the cheers and enthusiasm, but she knew the sinister truth that had achieved that result.
None of the Gridders got to see the live action on the screen. Their entire experience was gamified, to take the humanity out of the process, and to force them to focus on the strategic elements. All Hannah and the other Gridders could see on any of the screens were pixel representations of what was really going on in The Grid. These were supplied via a separate feed from the camera drones. Multiple angles were available, but from their point of view this was just another game.
The Grid had been specifically developed this way. The teams of psychologists who helped to create it soon realized that the Gridders were far more effective if emotion was removed from the equation. It was easier to go for a kill if it looked as if you were just eliminating a pixel image on a screen. The Gridders were never supposed to think of them as human.
Neither did the Gridders get to know the names of the Justice Seekers. They received psychological profiles and direct feeds from the devices which had been placed into their brains. However, they did not know names. That would have brought emotional responses back into play.
As Hannah sat at her workstation, she had no knowledge that she’d just murdered one of the most important people in Joe’s life. There had been a gasp of joy from the Gridders as the burning, pixelated image stumbled across their screens.
‘Great gameplay, Janexx2!’ they cried, impressed by the shocking scenario she’d hurriedly created to grab the attention of the crowds watching on the screens. But it was still raw for Hannah. She’d had to excuse herself and throw up in the restrooms.
She knew that was a human being she’d killed. She understood this had to be done. If it wasn’t her executing Justice Seekers, it would be another Gridder. If Joe, Lucy, Wiz and Mitchell were successful, this could be the end of it. It could be the last time that anybody ever had to watch this barbarity.
But when they’d planned this project, nobody had realized that Hannah would be cut off from outside communication. She was stuck in there with the Gridders until the trial was over. She needed to get a message out to them. She didn’t know that two of her friends were represented by the pixels on her screen. Two of the shallow earth mounds concealed Lucy and Joe – her audience-pleasing opening to the trial could have killed two of her best friends.
She hadn’t expected it to be that tough. When they’d plotted her infiltration of Fortrillium, they had to second-guess how it would work. With all Gridders sworn to secrecy, they’d had to take a chance on how things would play out if Hannah was successful in being recruited to the elite team.
Hannah had killed a man. She knew he was missing a leg too. She’d seen it on the profile. She hated herself for being able to create such a stunning start to a trial. Her sense for great gameplay had claimed the life of a vulnerable man who couldn’t even defend himself. She’d chosen him because he had a high affinity rating to two of the other Justice Seekers, 001Green and 002Green, as they were known to her. In reality those numbers referred to Joe and Lucy, Zach was the man who died. He didn’t even get a number, he was nameless in Hannah’s scenario, just a walk-on character in a gaming scenario.
97TRaider walked up to Hannah and loudly congratulated her on her early achievement.
‘You did great!’ he exclaimed for the benefit of everybody else in the room. ‘You’re a natural!’
Then his voice quietened.
‘You’ve got some vomit on your chin, wipe it off.’
Hannah turned to the side and did as he said.
‘Don’t show weakness, whatever you do.’
She nodded.
‘It takes a while to forget they’re human,’ he continued, ‘but after you make enough kills you get caught up in it and just focus on your objective.’
‘I feel nauseous thinking about how I killed that man. I can barely believe I did it.’
‘You have to get over it, Janexx2. If you crack up in here, you’ll join them in The Grid. On my second month here there was one new guy who couldn’t take it. He refused to continue taking any part in the trials. They took him away and we continued running his gameplay environment in The Grid. We only found out afterwards that we’d used his own creations against him – he was killed by his own scenarios. They threw him in The Grid and he perished in there within the day. I’m sorry, Janexx2, there’s no other way out of here. You have to get your kills in, then they’ll let you leave.’
Hannah thought she was going to vomit again. It’s one thing agreeing to a course of action and another thing doing it. She was fearful she wasn’t up to the challenge. She might break. How many more Justice Seekers could she kill? When it came to it, would she fight harder for her own life or would she let others survive instead of her?
She cursed that they hadn’t anticipated her being cut off like this – they’d been sure that they would somehow be able to communicate during the trials. And there she was, trapped on her own and running blind.
There was nothing else for her to do. She’d have to continue contributing to the trial. It was kill or be killed. Hannah would have to trust that the others could find a way to communicate with her so that somehow they’d be able to bring the slaughter to an end.
She felt weary and drained, but there would be little rest. The fire was subsiding in the first trial scenario now; the Justice Seekers would be given some time to recover before they came under threat again.
She nodded at 97TRaider, acknowledging that she’d carry on and not draw attention to herself. At least she had an ally within the Gridders, somebody to look out for her and guide her. She took a deep breath and braced herself for what was to come. She looked at her screen, eager now to get to grips with the latest data and anticipate where the trial might go next.
There were three deaths indicated. She checked the screen again: surely that wasn’t correct? She’d sacrificed the man with the crutches to spare the others. One dramatic death to deflect from the loss of multiple lives, it seemed the best way. But three lives? She’d thought they would all get out alive once they’d figured out how to escape the radiant heat of the fire.
The information was accurate. The first death had been the man with crutches, but there were two more. They’d died in their shallow trenches. Life-sign indicators showed one further death from smoke inhalation, another from heart failure. There were only ten Justice Seekers left to fight for their freedom now.
Communication
Wiz was stiff and aching after his time in the sewer. His clothes were wet where he’d stumbled along the pipe-way. He couldn’t afford to indulge himself. He had to stay alert for Centuria. He was seventy flights up Pegasus tower block: five more flights to go and he’d reach the top.
Even though he was cursing Mitchell for his absence, Wiz had to hand it to him – he’d come good with the tech. Wiz had successfully set up a wireless link to hop the data from the sewers to Harry’s apartment. Mitchell had even had the good sense to bring some relays so the signal could be boosted as it made its way across The Climbs to his new base.
Wiz had a long night ahead of him. He had two more tower blocks to climb. He’d attach the relays to the roofs: that way he’d be able to preserve as strong a signal as possible. Pegasus block was on the outskirts of The Climbs, it was perfect because it gave him a line of sight with the sewer. It was also very high.
He’d encrypted the data flow which scrambled the two feeds they’d accessed: the link to Fortrillium and whatever it was that lay beyond The City’s walls. It was too risky to enter the sewers again. He’d succeeded in disabling the cameras and audio feeds for a while, but he didn’t think his nerves or his back could take another trip like that, not on his own.
Once he could set up a base and get access to some decent sunlight for a solar charge, he’d be able to dig in and see what he could find. He’d recorded and scrambled Delman’s conversation and was desperate to get to somewhere safe where he could clean up the audio and have a better listen.
At last he reached the top floor and forced open the door to the roof. From that height he could hear the boom of the screens below. The commentators were in a frenzy of excitement. Wiz scolded himself for not running faster up the flights of stairs – his friends were caught up in that trial, their lives were in danger.
The roof was littered with debris left by those who’d taken sanctuary there. As far as Wiz could tell, there wasn’t anybody on the roof with him. He knew enough about life in The Climbs to understand that if anybody were there, they’d make themselves scarce, like a rat scuttling down a drain.
He looked up at the decaying communications masts from a former world. This equipment hadn’t been used for at least a hundred years and it was rusting and twisted now. Wiz needed to get his relay as high as he could. There was the remainder of a scaffold frame he’d have to climb to reach the highest aerial. He’d attach it there so the signals could be hopped across The Climbs. Wiz didn’t much like exposed heights, but he had no choice in the matter. He placed one of his bags at the base of the scaffold, made sure the other was securely fastened around his shoulders, then started the climb to the top.
He could hear the scaffold creaking as he reached for each bar and pulled himself higher. He didn’t weigh much. He was sure that if it could still hold the aerial cluster at the top he’d be fine. He’d pulled himself three levels up the scaffold frame when he noticed that one of the bars had rotted through – it wouldn’t take his weight. He cursed, wishing he’d seen that before. He could have saved himself some time if he’d avoided that route.
He’d have to make his way along the secure pole he was standing on, towards the side that faced outwards from the tower block. He baulked for a moment. As he looked down, he was only three scaffold levels up and seventy-five levels above ground after that. It wasn’t great for him, but he could deal with it. With his path now blocked, if he wanted to head upwards he’d have to navigate around the frame.
Wiz took a moment to breathe and compose himself. He cursed Mitchell again, then checked himself when he thought about Joe and Lucy – they were all that really mattered.
Step by step he worked along the frame to the corner. He held on tightly and looked down. He felt himself sway – it was a long way up, he could barely make out anything below. Nervously, he inched around the corner of the frame. It was a sheer drop, and he clutched tighter and steadied himself on the bar.
It was windy up there. His hair was blowing in his eyes and it was difficult to look up to check his route. Wiz pulled himself up to the fourth level of the scaffolding frame, then the fifth. Each time he had to release his grasp of one pole to pull himself up to the next. The only thing keeping him from a fall of over 320 metres was the grasp of a single hand.
One more level to go. He was beginning to feel light-headed. If he focused on the task, he could keep his mind off the height. Wiz steadied himself once again, then prepared to thrust his right arm upwards to grab the final pole. Once he reached the top level of the scaffold, he’d have access to the aerial and would be able to attach one of the relays in his bag.
He concentrated, tightened the grip of his left hand, then released the grasp of his right. As his right hand found the upper pole and he moved his left hand to join it, he heard a worrying creak. Before he had time to bring his right hand back to the secure pole beneath him, the upper shaft broke free from its rusting bracket and swung outwards.
Wiz let out a cry of panic as the pole swivelled around forty-five degrees, leaving him hanging in the gap between two tower blocks, high above the ground. He was just dangling there, a bag on his shoulders, both hands gripped around a scaffold pole, anchored to the entire frame by a single bracket. Wiz tried to stay calm. He was terrified. His palms were sweaty from the stress, and he could feel them beginning to slip on the pole. One at a time he unclasped each hand, then attempted to re-establish his grip.
His only choice was to make his way back along the pole to the corner of the scaffold. Although the post looked to be securely held in the bracket, there was a lot of play in it. Every time he inched along the pole, it swung, forcing him to wait until it steadied.
Wiz’s arms were beginning to tire. He was supporting his full body weight – they felt as if they were being wrenched out of their sockets. He heard another creak of metal and looked towards the bracket. He wasn’t sure how long the bolts would hold under such stress.
He was so near the tethered end of the pole, close enough to throw one of his arms towards the secure scaffold frame and hoist himself over. He was scared to put that final strain on the bracket and force himself forward, but Wiz knew it was the only thing he could do. He removed his right hand from the pole and thrust it forward towards the secure rod to his side. As he did so, the end of one of the bolts sheared off, releasing the post from the bracket. Wiz started to fall before his hand could find sanctuary.
He dropped like a dead weight. He knew it was over. Death would surely follow. How long would it take? From that height, it would be just an instant before he hit the ground. He’d seen the bodies of jumpers before, it wasn’t pretty. He’d barely had time to register what was happening when he felt a jolt and heard a voice.
‘Reach up!’
Wiz was disoriented, he wasn’t dropping anymore.
‘Reach up, quickly, your bag won’t take your weight much longer!’
Wiz looked towards the voice. A hand was being thrust in his direction. He reached out and felt his weight taken by a man who was much stronger than him. He’d grabbed the strap on Wiz’s bag as he was falling, and was now helping him back to the side of the tower block roof.
Wiz was so relieved when his body weight finally came to rest on the roof once again that he had to steady himself to make sure it was real.
‘Jeez, thank you so much!’
He checked his bag. It was still there, even though the fabric had torn in the rescue. He reached out to his side to steady himself, then looked towards his rescuer.
Wiz cursed himself once again for letting his guard down. He should have taken more care to see whose hand was being offered to assist him. He was standing in front of three Centuria, and they were all heavily armed.