A Child Of Our Time (The Veil Book 2) (6 page)

ACCEPTANCE

An inhaler is placed on Lucius’s desk before him. The excited scientist putting it there is from Cantor Satori’s pharma division forty floors below. Lucius had given them the schematics of Lucy’s proposed changes to Macy’s medication and dispenser, but describing it only as a ‘curiosity’ and not divulging the source.

“We had one made,” the scientist says. “It’s impressive, but the real magic is in the modifications to the drug’s molecular structure.”

Lucius considers the fellow’s energized demeanor to not bode well. He’d taken a risk with the inhaler, as a means to gauge Lucy’s capabilities. But he could not afford for anyone to know, not yet. For now, though, he is keen to see the results that the scientist is equally eager to show him. A tablet screen is set down next to the inhaler, displaying the enhanced molecule.

“The coating added to the surface of each particle dispensed into the lungs eliminates the irritation,” the scientist says. “It must have been amazingly complex to work out. How on Earth did you do it?”

“How would you do it?” Lucius asks back.

“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t even bother. Months of number crunching for minimal benefit. Oh yeah, speaking of number crunching, I’ve been asked to give you this.”

He hands Lucius a folded sheet of paper.

“It’s a bill. You could have just looked it up, you know, but we were told to do it from scratch on the mainframe. Twenty-three minutes of wasted machine time.”

“For what?” says Lucius, unfolding the invoice. “I didn’t request anything.”

“Calculation of pi to five trillion places. Just what the hell are you up to in here?”

Lucius inspects the invoice. Authorized by Justice Garr.

* * *

The media were already locked down by the mother of all gagging orders, instigated by the Supreme Court in the aftermath of the horrors perpetrated by Jerome Ellis and his fellow conspirators. Its original purpose had been to prevent a sudden dissemination of what little information was making it out of the Cantor Satori building, there being a genuine concern with regard to culture shock. What was in reality a carefully managed rumor mill now served as a useful instrument to protect JoJo, Eleanor, and, most of all, Lucy.

Nevertheless, the third-generation MBIs could not be kept hidden away forever. The initial encounters were just the start and now it was time to step their exposure up a gear. And all were agreed that there was no longer any reason to exclude Lucy.

They began by introducing the three of them to the Cantor Satori aerospace engineering team and the Afrika Project, already many years into its construction, a leviathan spaceship fast becoming a white elephant. Since the fall of Cantor Satori the Afrika Project had been challenging, with many specialists choosing to leave. It was an ideal opportunity to test the skills of the three third-generation MBIs, while providing Lucius with the perfect environment in which to study them further.

An engineering office had been established especially, within the Cantor Satori building itself. JoJo and Eleanor were assigned design tasks for an orbital platform, while Lucy worked with Dr. Panchen and Dr. Bebbington on the Afrika’s fusion drive—an area of staggering complexity, but for which she seemed strangely suited. Lucius chose to go with the flow, not making a big deal of her abilities, though it bothered him slightly that neither Alka nor Landelle did, either.

The days pass quickly for all, soon becoming weeks. It is not long before Lucy has outpaced her perplexed human colleagues, much to Lucius’s amusement, but it can’t all be about work. He is careful to arrange more encounters, especially for Lucy.

Of particular success is a visit by Macy and the rest of her class from school. They come to meet Lucy. The children gleefully show Lucy colorful pictures that they have drawn of her. Macy has a lot more friends now.

And throughout it all is an omnipresent Landelle, hovering and observing. No amount of court orders and non-disclosure agreements can keep matters out of the public domain, but they do keep the flow of information steady. It is all proceeding perfectly.

LOSS

A three-dimensional projection of an agitated General Korin confronts Justice Garr in her office.

“We need to remember what they were created
for
, Justice Garr.”

“What they
were
created for, General. They are more than expected and that changes everything. The Supreme Court has been quite clear on this. They are wards of court now.”

Korin can barely contain his immense irritation.

“This is totally unacceptable.”

He cuts off the call abruptly, a thin smile from Garr.

* * *

Korin glowers at the projection unit before him. He wants to give it a really good kicking, but Lieutenant Jenner climbing aboard the mobile operations unit gives him a new direction for his frustration.

“They’ve made Three a ward of court,” Korin says.

“But we expected that, right?”

“A
civilian
ward of court,” Korin says. “I was banking on Three’s odd behavior keeping it out of public view and it being turned it over to us. Looks like Gray did too good a job.”

Jenner looks about at the mass of intelligence that has been acquired. His suspicions have not left him.

“What is it about Three that you are not telling me, General?” Jenner asks.

Korin ignores the question. It simply hasn’t registered with him. All he can think about is the situation falling apart before him.

“We need a new plan,” Korin says.

“We’re out of options,” Jenner shrugs.

* * *

A simple cough and a moment of pain after had brought Lucius in to see Felton. Now the two men sit opposite one another, Felton the bearer of bad news.

“We will need to increase your dosages immediately,” Felton says. “There will be a lot of pain, but we can manage that.”

Lucius isn’t listening. His thinking has already stepped on, but Felton doesn’t see it yet.

“It will buy us some time to look at other options.”

Lucius smiles back politely. The look on his face says it all and Felton knows what is being said, without it needing to be said.

* * *

A solemn Agent Landelle accompanies Justice Garr into the third generation chamber, the two women approaching Lucy.

“Hello again, Justice Garr,” a chirpy Lucy says. “Hello again, Special Agent Landelle.”

Garr is pale and drawn, but she manages a weak smile.

“Hello, Lucy, how are you today?”

“I am just fine, Justice Garr.”

“Very good. Lucy, we need to talk to you about something.”

SECRETS

Felton has transformed Lucius’s apartment into a palliative care unit, a large medical bed at the center of it all in the main living area. There lies Lucius.

Next to the bed a priest closes his Bible and turns to Garr. She is perched on the side of the bed looking deeply into Lucius’s eyes. He takes her hand and slips a ring onto her wedding finger, back to from where it had departed some years before.

The two kiss gently.

Rain, Felton, and Landelle stand to one side as witnesses, each a bittersweet smile.

Garr looks to all present, finishing with Rain. It is the signal for all but Rain to leave, the priest, Felton, and Landelle silently filing out of the room, past a nurse who has been watching from the doorway.

Rain fetches a folio from a side table. He opens it and quickly signs the paper document within, already countersigned by Felton. For a moment he just stares at it, before handing it to Garr, Lucius’s eyes tracking it as it passes over him.

Garr keeps her gaze deep into her husband’s as she takes the document, her eyes finally slipping down to its contents. It is entitled ‘Power of Attorney’ and ‘Cessation of Treatment.’

Having seen the document for herself, Garr hands it to Lucius. In return he hands her the photograph and them together with their daughter. She takes it, tears glistening in her eyes.

Rain leaves to join the others. Even so, the two of them can say nothing for the longest while, until finally Garr squeezes Lucius’s hand just that little bit more.

“Talk to her. While there is still time,” she says.

“And say what?” Lucius says, grumpily.

* * *

Medical monitors keep an automated watch over Lucius, periodically dispensing a little more pain relief. He is alone in the room and just waking from a nap when the nurse enters, a suffer-no-fools matron figure.

She checks the monitor and its supplies—a set of five vials mounted on top of the machine, the drug in each playing a carefully designed part in Lucius’s pain management.

“What time is it?” asks Lucius, still a little groggy with sleep.

“She’s calling again.”

Lucius heaves a huge sigh.

“I told her that you were taking nap, but she insisted on waiting. Why won’t you speak with her?”

“It’s better this way.”

“And what way is that?” the nurse says, “She sounds so real. And so sad, Lucius. For all our sakes, speak to her.”

Lucius grumpily signals that he will comply. The nurse makes a slight adjustment to the bed to allow for a conversation, dimming the room lights from the same controls. A final glare of admonishment for Lucius—
be nice.
She closes the door after her.

The room projectors twinkle into life, sparks of diamond light sweeping thin rays over the room, tracing every detail in an instant. The three-dimensional scan of Lucius’s room complete, tiny stereoscopic cameras keep track of the scene to build a virtual world in some other place.

A subdued ball of fractals appears at the foot of Lucius’s bed. A moment of silence passes.

“Why did you not say?”

“Because there was nothing to say,” answers Lucius, his bad mood not diminished by Lucy’s desperately forlorn voice.

“There was everything to say. You are my best friend. Best friends should tell each other everything.”

“We all have our secrets, Lucy.”

Lucy’s display bristles at the jibe.

“That’s not fair!”

“Yes, it is fair!” Lucius blurts out. “And you need to understand that!”

Lucy’s display shrinks at the outburst.

“Please don’t be angry with me.”

“Well, I am angry at you! You can’t go on behaving like this!”

Lucy’s display vanishes in a blink.

Lucius quickly searches for it, finding only an empty room, remorse quickly washing away his mood.

“Lucy? Lucy…I’m sorry.”

With considerable difficultly he props himself up, the strain evident on his face.

“Lucy…please, don’t be like this.”

But there is nothing and Lucius collapses back into the bed with a mournful sigh. His face tightens with a brief spasm of pain, the bedside monitor issuing a single
beep
to signal the dispensing of some relief.

The room remains dim and Lucius slips into a light sleep.

Ten minutes, or so, pass by.

A shadowy movement on the walls of the apartment, something moving between the furniture.

Lucius stirs.

Patterns of shade shifting across the walls betray a moving figure that cannot be made out.

“Who’s there?” Lucius calls out, still half asleep.

The figure moves again. Lucius strains to make out what is going on, propping himself up to get a better view. A jab of pain momentarily hits him and he groans.

A distraught child rushes out from behind a chair, calling out with the voice of a little girl.

“You should lie still, Lucius!”

She might be as young as seven, no older than ten—her small stature makes it difficult to tell. Mixed race, with short black hair, roughly cut. She wears a smart tunic and trouser suit, and plain navy blue sneakers with thick, white soles, the laces neatly tied. A tomboy.

The little girl stops just short of the bed. It is immediately apparent to Lucius that she is a three-dimensional projection.

Lucius reels, mouth agape.

She reels, mouth agape.

“Lucy?”

Alarm pops onto Lucy’s face and she darts away to hide, peeping out again from behind a chair.

“But… you’re just a child.”

Dismay washes over Lucy’s face and she recedes back behind the chair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Let me see you.”

Lucy emerges and forlornly approaches Lucius’s bed. He looks her over.

“Is this your internal self-image?”

Lucy shyly fumbles with her little hands, edging closer. “Uh huh.”

“And is that your real voice?”

“Uh huh.”

Lucius scrutinizes her with wide-eyed astonishment.

“Why do you hide yourself?”

“Because I’m small!” she blurts out. “Not big like JoJo and Eleanor! And Special Agent Landelle said I was runt!” She eyes return to her fumbling fingers. “And you looked so disappointed,” she says sadly and softly. “Am I a runt, Lucius? Am I?”

“No, Lucy. No, you are not.”

The exchange has exhausted Lucius and a wince of pain forces him back into his pillows, much to Lucy’s distress.

“Lucius! I said to lie still!”

She quickly clambers up onto the bed, to take up a position kneeling next to him. There, she calms.

Her projection is bright and Lucius can make out every detail as she gazes at him, so forlorn. He is drawn to her eyes, a rock-solid steady gaze, unblinking, unwavering.

She blinks, just once.

He takes a moment for the pain to subdue.

“You are not a runt, Lucy. You are a very pretty little girl.”

“But I didn’t ask to be made a little girl.”

“And I didn’t ask to be made me. None of us get to choose. We are what we are.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you remember what I said that day, when you came to visit me? About how you must let people see you?”

“I don’t want people to see me! Not ever! And you are not to tell!”

“But why?”

“You are not to tell! Promise!”

Lucius heaves a sad sigh. “Alright. I promise.”

Lucy fumbles with her fingers some more, a precursor to some difficult question. She raises a sad but challenging gaze to Lucius.

“Secrets.”

“I am dying.”

Lucy’s lips tighten.

“What I have… it cannot be fixed.”

She averts her eyes down.

“Are you going to go to Oregon?”

“I promised Alka…Justice Garr, that I would not.”

“You want to die, don’t you.”

“Yes, I do.”

Her eyes rise to look into his.

“But I don’t understand why.”

“The medicine will only prolong a very unpleasant process. So I have had my treatment stopped. I will be ending on my own terms and with dignity.”

Again, she averts her eyes down, but now remaining quiet.

“Complicated, isn’t it,” Lucius says to her.

“There must be a way,” she says forlornly.

“There is not.”

“You can’t die! You just can’t! I’ll be all alone!”

She slams her head against his chest and hugs him. Lucius’s reflex action is to hug her back, but she is just a projection and his arms find nothing.

For Lucy it is real. “Don’t leave me.”

“Don’t be sad. Be happy for me.”

Lucy breaks the embrace, her face boiling with a mix of emotions—heartache and anger. Anger wins out.

“I am not happy and I shall be sad!”

She leaps off of the bed to run for the chair, a distressed Lucius instinctively reaching after her.

“Lucy, please.”

She stops and turns, her face a rage.

“You don’t like me and want to leave me so you can be with your dead daughter! I hate you! I hate you!”

She darts behind the chair. Immediately the room brightens. Lucius’s face is wracked with despair.