Evolution (19 page)

Great Zeus. I’ve developed a conscience! But I do need to do something to redress the situation. If only to get some sleep.

Who can I ask to help me? A humanoid? Athene or Odysseus? Tricky. My role in this plot may come to light.

A complete? Not Wolfe. He won’t change his mind. He has the proverbial heart of steel. Stella perhaps? No. She has the power to intervene but will refer me to Athene. There’s really only one person who can help.

Someone half humanoid and half complete. Little Mercury AKA Michael Court.

The moment I arrive back at Home-Court-Jameson I sense something is wrong. I have only been away from Oasis for a few days but the house feels abandoned. No one is in. Yet, at this time of day the children should be home from school and Stella there to give them an afternoon snack to keep them going until the shared evening meal.

The kitchen, dining room, terrace and garden are not just devoid of people but also of clutter, unlived in. I check the rest of the house. Many of the ornaments and hangings have disappeared. A quick scan of Stella’s study, the hub of worldwideculture.inc, reveals that it has been stripped of its contents. Neither the multi-screen computer, nor the conglomeration of artistic items so valued by Stella remains. Further examination of other rooms reveals that the clothes and toys in the children’s rooms have gone.

I enter the main bedroom. Stella’s wardrobe door is open. Empty. With some trepidation I open Father’s wardrobe. I give a sigh of relief. His suits hang there as usual. Stella and the children have moved out, but Father hasn’t.

I check my room. Everything is as I left it: computer, books and clothes.

I suspect that Stella’s defection must have to do with the
shocking altercation I overheard at Hos-sat, when Stella failed to support Father’s viewpoint and aligned herself with Orlando Wolfe. Whatever transpired afterwards it must have led to Stella walking out, taking Stuart and Bella with her.

With hindsight I realise Father’s relationship with Stella has been disintegrating for some time.

Was it my intrusion into this family that caused the breakdown? Should I have tried harder to cooperate with Stella?

I glance at my watch. Father won’t be home for another hour. But I can’t sit here brooding. I decide to go to the Rehabilitation Centre and see if I can find out about Lizzy and her family.

The building is a rather forbidding one, as unlike the glass and marble structures in the Plaza as our residential area is to the Project. It resembles an old-fashioned prison from the 19th century, its grey walls dotted with narrow, barred windows. I summon up courage and knock on the door. A grid slides open.

‘Name and number,’ demands a disembodied voice.

‘I’ve come to enquire if a family called….’ I hesitate, trying to remember Lizzy’s surname. Surely she must have told me it.

‘Name and number,’ repeats the voice.

‘Edwards,’ I say. ‘Elizabeth Edwards.’

‘Number?’

‘I don’t know. I’m trying to find out if she’s here or not.’

‘Number,’ repeats the voice. ‘Can’t tell you anything without the number.’

‘Where can I find her number?’ I ask.

‘Ministry of Justice, Floor Seven. Are you offering employment?’

‘Not exactly,’ I admit.

I can’t believe this. I’m standing in the street talking to a door.

‘Doubt they’ll give you the number then.’ The grid slides shut. Interview finished.

I hang around for a bit, hoping that if Lizzy is on work experience, she will return soon. A few depressed looking individuals arrive, knock, give their numbers to the door and are admitted, but no Lizzy.

I make my way to the Ministry of Justice, but the admin section is closed for the day. Impasse.

I trot round to the university.

‘Thank Zeus you’re back, man,’ says Jonathan. ‘You’ve been away for ages. Let’s go for a beer. Tell me what you’ve been up to.’

‘I really should do some work,’ I tell him, keen to start up my computer.

‘Tomorrow is another day.’ He slings an arm round my shoulder and marches me off to our usual haunt, a little bar in the park. He chats for a bit telling me snippets of university gossip and grumbling about his father’s attitude to his long hair and untidy bedroom. It’s all so petty compared with my problems.

He turns to me at last and asks me what I’ve been doing. What can I tell him? Not about my meeting with Odysseus and Isis, nor about overhearing Orlando Wolfe and my father arguing, nor that Stella has left.

‘I’ve met a pretty nurse who wants to be a doctor. She has a day off on Saturday and we’ve got a date.’

Jonathan’s eyes light up. ‘Good for you,’ he says. ‘Can I meet her?’

‘No way. I hardly know her myself yet. I don’t want you messing things up for me.’

‘As if I would,’ he says, all innocence. There is something in the gleam of his blue eyes that makes me understand why
girls are attracted to him. He’s totally got sex appeal. I’m definitely going to keep him well away from Gemma.

Back home Father is sitting at the kitchen table shoulders slumped, reading or pretending to read his e-tablet. He stands up when I walk in, his face alive with a welcoming smile. ‘Michael. Thank Zeus you’re back.’ His words echo Jonathan’s and I count myself lucky to have at least two people on Oasis pleased to see me.

Father puts his arms round me and we attempt an embrace, but we’re not used to such a show of emotion.

We begin to prepare a simple meal. He is to grill the meat while I chop vegetables and put them in a pan of water to boil.

He doesn’t talk about the break-up. Not yet. But I can see he’s upset, knocked for six as they say, and not at all sure how he is going to cope.

I try to chat away as naturally as possible and find that I am able to speak frankly about my stay at Hos-sat. I admit that I’d had no intention of having a vasectomy and that the only reason for my visit was to see Isis and make sure that nothing happened to the baby. I tell him that I suspected that the last thing the authorities wanted was to have more mutants in the world. In other words I feared for the survival of the first mutant humanoid born for years.

Father pauses in his task of sprinkling herbs on the chops. ‘By the authorities you mean the Symposium?’

I feel the colour rush up my cheeks.

‘I don’t know. Yes. No. Certain members of it, a powerful group of subversives, I guess.’

‘No need to guess,’ he says grimly, placing the chops neatly on the metal tray. ‘It amazes me how much you have learnt since being on Oasis. About the different factions, I mean.’

‘Sometimes an outsider’s eye can see more clearly,’ I say, but I feel awkward, as if I’m talking in platitudes.

I hesitate and then decide it is better to be completely honest about what I did at Hos-sat. I tell Father how I eavesdropped on his conversation with Wolfe, Stella and the medical team and how I was instrumental in making sure that Isis and the baby returned to Earth as soon as possible. Father nods seemingly accepting my conduct. He doesn’t even blanch when I tell him that I talked to Odysseus and told him how I became a complete and about my new life on Oasis.

‘I’m sorry. I broke my promise to you but somehow – meeting him there – it seemed right to tell him.’

He nods again, seeming to take my confession in his stride. ‘Odysseus is a good humanoid. You couldn’t have found a better confidant. Stella – Stella always admired him.’ He stops, turns away from me, as if saying her name sticks in his throat.

Father sits down, the meal we’ve been preparing forgotten. ‘I had no idea what was going on, Michael. No idea at all. I mean, yes, there were indications that all was not well between us, but I didn’t know it had anything to do with that awful man. That conversation at Hos-sat – the one you overheard – was the first indication I had that she….’ He looks at me his eyes full of tears. He blinks them away. ‘I loved her, Michael, adored her. And the children. We thought the same way about most things. Or so I believed. I just don’t understand how she could do such a thing. Michael, she’s been having an affair for months with Wolfe of all people. What a fool I’ve been.’

Zeus! Has she actually gone and left this good man for that cold, calculating lizard? I can’t believe it.

‘You’re not a fool, Father. Or if you are so am I. We were both taken in by her.’

Whatever differences there were between Stella and me, I never dreamt she was deceiving my father with another man. Let alone Orlando Wolfe. And now she’s left Father to live with him.

I think back to that meeting in Hos-sat. There was something about Stella’s body language as she stood close to Wolfe that spoke of intimacy and there was that exchanged look of complicity. I saw Father’s face drain of colour and his face muscles tighten. He must have known from that moment that there was something going on between them. I feel sick thinking of them together, so how much worse must Father feel?

I think of Wolfe’s mansion, the biggest most luxurious home on Oasis. Will it be called Home-Wolfe-Jameson now? Or is Stella just a glorified mistress who will prove useful to him for a while and then discarded? I still can’t believe that she’s been having an affair with Father’s number one adversary and has now moved in with him. But it’s true. The thought that they are not only lovers but have been conspiring to bring Father down politically, is totally horrendous.

I am careful not to say anything too derogatory about Stella. Couples that split up sometimes get together again. I know that from books I’ve read. Would Father take her back if she decided to return?

Apart from the personal damage Stella has already done, the entire situation is fraught with the possibility of further disasters. Stella knows Alexander’s secret. And mine. The danger caused by her duplicity is far from over.

Before they have the chance to hurt us, I think we should “come out” ourselves and admit our mutant origins. It’s just a case of convincing Father.

My father sits, back rounded, head bent forward as if he hasn’t the will to sit up straight. He needs a new reason to live. Having the courage to admit the past could be the way
forward. I must persuade him that telling the truth about our origins is the best thing to do. Stella may already have been indiscreet enough to tell Orlando Wolfe that Father and I were born with mutations. If so, it won’t be long before he tells the Symposium. We must tell them first.

I’m the only person in the world that Father can trust now. There must be no more secrets between us. Father and I talk into the early hours of the morning. He looks exhausted but he dreads going to bed. He knows he has little chance of sleeping.

When I finally go to my room and check my auto-mails, I find one from Odysseus.

More dreadful news. Someone has stolen baby Penelope. Zeus! Isis must be totally gutted. We thought we’d done the right thing sending them back to Earth, certain that the child would be safe there. How wrong we were.

Odysseus suspects that Penelope has been taken to Oasis and he wants me to help him find her and return her to Isis. He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I’ll make finding that baby a priority. Being Odysseus he adds, ‘Everything must be done officially.’

Another auto-mail, this time from Heracles, also asks me if I can help find the stolen baby. What connection Heracles has with Isis I’m not sure. We all knew each other in C55 but I didn’t realise they were still in touch. He gives me a name to help trace the whereabouts of the baby. The name is no surprise to me: Orlando Wolfe.

One thing I can be sure of. One way or another, baby Penelope will be returned to her mother. Before I fall asleep, I have a comforting thought. I don’t have to tackle this problem on my own. I have Father to help me now.

Two hungry men at breakfast time do the male thing. We send out for a take away: bacon, eggs, sausages, pancakes,
mushrooms and tomatoes. We eat the lot. No conversation by mutual agreement until we’ve finished.

Father wipes his mouth and manages a smile. ‘Well, we never did get to eat dinner last night.’

I smile back and throw the remains of the neglected dinner in the bin. Stella would never have allowed us to do that. Father frowns, having the same thought, then shrugs.

Father tells me the men who arrested and strip-searched me have resisted all attempts to persuade them to reveal Wolfe’s role. ‘Paid not to talk, I’m sure. But I haven’t given up, Michael. I can promise you that.’

‘There’s something else for us to deal with first,’ I tell him and show him the auto-mails from Odysseus and Heracles about the missing baby.

‘Leave it with me. A few phone calls and we’ll find the location of young Penelope. Getting her back might prove more difficult but we will succeed, believe you me.’

I like the way he says, we will succeed. We’re a team working toward the same objective.

Off to uni for me while Father makes his calls. He’ll contact me later.

A sharp shower of liquid glass and I dash into the shopping mall for shelter. I’m passing a supermarket when I catch sight of Lizzy. She’s not wearing the blue dress I liked so much but rather dowdy overalls and there’s a collar round her neck and bands round her wrists and ankles that are certainly not jewellery. Electronic security tags. She’s stacking shelves with packets of cereals from a trolley.

She blushes when she sees me approach. ‘Michael! I was hoping you’d come by.’

‘I went to the Rehabilitation Centre. They asked me for your number.’

‘Isn’t it awful? No name any more. Just a number. And these dreadful things round my neck. They’re so heavy.’ She
waves an arm. ‘They call this work experience but if you ask me it’s slave labour. I have to work here all day and in the evening I clean houses. No free time at all. Might as well be one of them mutants the way they treat me.’

There’s no way I can answer that. I just stand there looking at her, wondering what the hell I can do to help.

‘How are your family?’ I ask.

‘Banged up. Undergoing treatment,’ she says.

‘Treatment?’

She shrugs. ‘You know, drilling into their brains to make them better citizens.’

I shake my head. Lizzie must have got that wrong. She must be exaggerating. Or is she? ‘Your father and brothers?’

‘Father yes. He’s on the treatment. And my mother. Brothers? I haven’t got no brothers.’ She claps her hand to her mouth. ‘You mean those boys in the Project. They’re not my brothers. Thought you knew that. They kind of looked after me. After my interests. You know how it is. When we were taken, they bolted, haven’t seen them since. I’m all alone, Michael. Can you do something to help me?’ Her eyes widen but look a little less blue than usual.