Authors: Oliver EADE
“Um… well…
kind of, I suppose.”
What a hopeless liar!
Beetie grinned.
“You’ll get
used to it.”
“Beetie, this
‘Hatcheries’ business… have you
any
idea what’s going on there? Erasing
memories and all that business?”
Beetie
shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s where I
came from. That’s all I know.”
“Don’t you
learn about natural birth? How babies are made?”
“
Babies
?”
“Well… sex.”
“
Sex
?”
Her face told
him she hadn’t a clue.
“So you
remember
nothing
whatsoever about the Hatcheries?”
“Only getting
on a shuttle-bus and ending up near the entrance on the surface above the
tunnels. With Blinker.”
“And the
Retreat? What led you to this place? And is
Arthry
your boss... or is
God?”
Beetie
chuckled.
“Too many
questions at once, Gary!”
“Sorry!”
“We Retreat
people can tell by looking at each other. From the eyes. Like I realised
immediately you were one of us.”
“Do my eyes show
okay with these funny specs on?” To think, if he were to remove them again she
might be gone forever.
“Brown!”
Beetie exclaimed, and giggled. “Of course they show, silly! They’re… well...”
She looked bashfully at the ground. “They… um… make me feel good. I think…” She
looked up at Gary.
Please touch
my hand again,
his brain begged as that ‘thing’ trapped between his crossed
legs swelled even more.
Please do!
She didn’t.
“Your eyes are
the most honest I’ve ever seen,” she added quickly.
“
Gary
, something
terrible’s about to happen.
We all sense it. You must help us!
God’s kind of warned Arthry.
Yeah, he
is
my boss… and
the most wonderful person you can imagine.” A pang of jealousy pricked Gary
so sharply he felt tempted to say he’d already witnessed the man stab her to
death. “Arthry said God’s trying to get hold of something he thinks might save
us all. We thought this was why he sent
you
, Gary.
Perhaps you’re a sort of link?”
“The missing
link, huh?” Beetie appeared puzzled. “Er… missing from the past… kind of!
Tell me, how come Blinker got let into the Retreat? Or did he change?”
“Tagged onto
me, I guess. Never liked him,” replied the girl. “And it was Arthry who met us
at the shuttle-bus stop.”
Gary
frowned. He couldn’t bear the idea of
any
one ‘tagging on’ to Beetie.
“So how long…
I mean when did you both come out of the Hatcheries?”
“Last year.”
“And you
remember nothing from before? Your whole childhood wiped out?”
“
Childhood
?”
Gary
thought about those streets on the surface. He’d not seen any children or old
people. So strange! All the surfacers were young adults. Even in the Retreat,
Beetie and Beefor were the only teenagers. Little point in asking the girl her
age, but Gary reckoned about
sixteen, like himself and Mike. Poor Beetie… her whole childhood erased!
“Gary?”
“Yeah!”
“Something
else! And I think Blinker is in on this. There’s
another
God.”
Gary
laughed, mindful of multiple religions across the world, each with its own god
or gods. On seeing Beetie’s discomfort he stopped.
“No,
honestly!
An impostor!” insisted Beetie, her upset at his mirth clouding
her pretty face.
“I’m really
sorry,” apologised Gary. “Afraid I
still can’t think of God as a person.”
“Someone’s
pretending to be God and going around saying
our
God isn’t the
real
guy,” continued Beetie. “From The Agenda. One of
them
. I’m
certain. I think Arthry worried…” Jesus, when Beetie gazed into Gary’s
eyes she gave him stomach-butterflies the size of flipping swans. “Maybe for a
moment he thought
you
could be a guy sent to kill the real God. Because
of the time-specs… and you’re so different. You’ve got a funny name, too. See,
we reckon The Agenda has the other pair.”
“
Other
pair?”
“God made a
second pair of time-specs. For someone special, he’d told Arthry. After they
went missing I realised there had to be a spy. You know, God hasn’t been back
here since Blinker and I arrived last year. Too dangerous! Arthry only meets
with him at secret locations...”
“Teeth!”
interrupted Gary.
“What?”
“The little
rodent-toothed man who tried to pinch my specs in the past. Who vanished when a
taxi ran into him. He had similar specs on in Regent’s Park but not when I saw
him here.”
Beetie stood
up, as if something had just occurred to her.
“But why?” she
began.
“To pinch my
time-specs and keep God in the past. Stop him finding out what The Agenda’s up
to. Stop me from returning...” Gary
paused. The way Beetie was looking at him caused his confidence to soar like an
eagle. “...
from
returning to you?”
“Gary,
this is so important! I’ll tell Arthry straight away. We must get rid of
Blinker’s stuff here. Even the smell of it reminds me of him. I’ll fetch you a
green suit and… and...” The girl seemed unable to contain her excitement. “Oh,
it’s gonna be so wonderful to have him out of here...”
Not quite
the same as ‘wonderful to have you in here’,
thought Gary,
sadly.
“First I’ll
show you the bathroom and… um…”
“Beetie?”
The girl
glanced at him. Dare he ask?
“Beetie, did
Blinker ever try to kiss you?”
“
Kill
me?” Her eyes widened.
“No, silly,” beamed
Gary. “
Kiss
you.”
“Dunno what
you mean,” she replied shrugging her shoulders.
“Never mind!” Gary,
doubtful a girl as beautiful as Beetie could be so totally innocent, added:
“One thing... the lights… the electricity? How
d’you
get your power in the Retreat?”
“Yeah!
Electricity! Invented by God, too.”
Might’ve
guessed
, thought Gary.
“The sea.
Water pours down long tubes and... well... this
makes High Joe electricity.”
Gary
chuckled:
“
Hydro
electricity!”
“If you say
so! But how come…?”
“Oh, we’ve got
it in the past. Not invented by God, though!” Nevertheless, he reckoned God
must be quite a guy.
Beetie showed
him to the bathroom. For a moment he thought he’d stepped backwards into his
old life, until he noticed the water coming from the taps: brown and murky and
sweet-smelling. The girl gave him her key and he returned to the cell to await
her return. He hated her being out of his sight for his mind kept flicking back
to the scene in Arthry’s office in some other dimension (
had that particular
future already passed without happening?
) when Beetie had been so willing
to risk her life for his. Now he trusted Arthry… but did the man trust him?
Back in their
tiny cell he surveyed the Spartan furnishings. How odd that the few remaining
sentient humans on earth lived in ‘prison’ cells. He thought of the surfacers,
walking, zombie-like, all day long; he wondered about the Hatcheries and their
hidden secrets, about The Agenda and the Terminus. What had God been up to
there before The Agenda banished him? He envisioned a priceless apartment block
for their elite in the Terminus with a pent-house suite at the top for the
nameless big boss. The guy pretending to be God?
Teeth
?
The glowing
computer screen on the shelf distinguished the cell from a prison of past. Not
difficult to guess who had invented that! He was eager to meet God, what with
science and mathematics being his favourite subjects at school. Mike forever
pulled Gary’s leg for regularly
coming top in these subjects:
“A bloody
walking brain-box!” his friend once complained. “Pity those legs of yours can’t
kick straight, though!”
Gary
missed Mike. He vowed to bury the hatchet next time, and thinking of Mike gave
him an idea. He’d share this with Beetie when she returned, for it seemed the
only way forward for all of them. Meanwhile, he opened the cupboard and peeked
inside. On Beetie’s side, girl’s clothes of the future… notably a flimsy,
white, see-through garment he took to be a nightie and which re-aroused his
privates.
Oh God!
How on earth would he get through the night alone in
his own bed knowing Beetie was on the other side wearing that nightie?
The door
opened. Beetie reappeared, bright and cheerful!
“Here, Gary.
Should fit! You’re G37917!”
“Why not
‘007’?” the boy joked.
“What?” Beetie
frowned.
“A joke! From
the past.”
“And I’ve
gotta do something about your funny hair if we’re going up on the surface.”
“It’s
not
funny!”
objected Gary, smoothing down his
tousled, dark brown mop. But the girl grinned, and he had a change of mind. His
hair was all hers! “Okay! Sure! Sort it out… please do!
”
he added.
As Beetie
carefully shaped his feral locks with a comb and a pair of scissors, Gary
explained his plan. Talking helped him control the excitement a crucial part of
his anatomy experienced every time the girl’s fingers brushed against his neck
or his cheeks.
“Beetie, we
must
get hold of those other time-specs from Teeth. You see, I want you to come back
with me. To the past. I’m sure it’s what God intended. Maybe you’re the special
person for whom the other time-specs are intended. And there’s gotta be
something in the past that’s the key to this whole thing. Explains why he
stayed on there and sent me to get you… and bring you back. He needs both of
us, Beetie. D’you understand? He used
me
to get to
you
!”
Beetie stopped
the trimming and rested a hand on Gary’s
shoulder.
“What
are
you saying?” she asked.
“He’s
attempting to change the future... from the past. Because of what’s going on in
the Terminus now. He reckons you’re sort of... well… you’re… oh man!”
Gary
stopped. Beetie’s face so close he felt her breath on his. Her lips parted as
she waited for him to continue. Unable to stop himself, he kissed those lips.
It was the first time he’d ever kissed a girl and proved more wonderful than he
could possibly have imagined. She kissed him back and, when he took her in his
arms, they sank together into the softness of the kiss. The comb and the
scissors clattered to the floor and he wished God’s time-specs had the power to
freeze them, lips together, for all eternity. Instead, their two fates became
kiss-sealed as a single destiny.
Gary
wasn’t bothered that he resembled a poncey prick in his tight-fitting, green
tracksuit and neatly-trimmed, pudding-basin hair-style whilst wandering freely
about the Retreat as G37217. Having Beetie always at his side, he couldn’t care
a damn about his appearance and no one gave him a second glance. They were too
busy with computers, poring over data passed on by Arthry. He soon mastered the
listening screen in their cell, a world away from his Dad’s I-pad. He wondered
about hacking into The Agenda’s system, but he learned there was no internet
here in the future. Anyway, The Agenda infiltrating the Retreat’s own network
would have posed a deadly risk. God had surely thought of this.
The afternoon
was spent planning their journey to the surface for the following day. Gary’s
next meal of salted gee-rat meat, veg-eatables and treated sewer-juice went
down more easily; he actually enjoyed the intimacy of a shared snack in their
private cell before going to bed.
Bed?
Oh my God, whose bed?
Gary
both relished and dreaded the thought of sharing the night with Beetie within
the confines of the tiny room. They’d already kissed and she had responded – at
least as far as he was concerned, this being his first time.
Christ,
that nightdress!
The blue tracksuit’s revealing enough... but, oh the
nightdress…
Sadly, it
turned out to be a big disappointment. No Beetie in a nightdress, no private
strip show, no good-night kiss. Without warning, Beetie simply turned off the
light and wished him luck the following day.
“Good night,
Beetie!” he mumbled, deflated.
He heard a
girlish giggle.
“Good
what
?”
she asked in the dark.
“Night! An
expression from the past!”
“Oh! All
right! Good night! What’s it mean, though? Why ‘good’?”
“Beats me!” Gary
exclaimed.
“
Beats
you?” she queried, giggling again.
He reckoned
he’d need to teach her more vocabulary of the past before getting hold of the
other pair of time-specs and journeying back in time with her.
“Not
literally! Means I dunno!”
“Weird!”
Gary
removed his green tracksuit, climbed into bed in his underwear and closed his
eyes. He heard Beetie moving around and opening the cupboard door. Ashamed of
the images his mind formed of the girl undressing and slipping on the
nightdress, he listened to her getting into bed and to the sound of her turning
over as she sought a comfortable position. He tried to stay awake until he was
sure she was asleep, for perhaps he snored and he couldn’t bear the thought of
her hearing him snore. For Beetie to have
any
reason to dislike him
seemed unbearable, and when he finally drifted off his mind was still relishing
the memory of the soft touch of her warm lips against his own.
***
“Good night!”
Gary
opened his eyes, startled. To his profound disappointment, Beetie was already
dressed, standing over him and grinning.
“Er... ‘Good
morning
!’
this time, Beetie,” he corrected.
“Oh! What
strange phrases you lot have.”
“Yeah, well you’re
gonna need a few lessons.”
“And today?
Where do we start?” the girl asked.
Funny how she
was turning to
him
for answers in her own world, but he liked it.
“I was
thinking last night I’m certain I’m right about Blinker. The spy has to be him.
Bet he’ll lead us to Teeth. Somehow we’ve gotta trail him without arousing
suspicion.”
“Difficult!”
Beetie said. “Blinker’s as sharp as a gee-rat.” Gary
had never thought of rats as being particularly bright. “He’s got his friends
who watch out for him, too,” the girl added.
“Who
are
they?”
“Oh... a
couple of creeps!”
Yes!
Gary
thought
. Please think of all other guys as creeps!
“Better them
thinking we
think they’re on our side,” he suggested. “They’ll be our
only link with The Agenda and Teeth, and we need those other time-specs more
than they wanna get hold of mine. Or God’s, rather. I’m certain The Agenda
thinks leaving the specs in our hands is a risk to whatever’s going on in the
Terminus. The specs… and the thing God’s seeking from the past. They’ll have
sussed out he’s onto something... in the past
and
the future.”
Gary
sat on the edge of his bed and Beetie on hers, each staring intently at the
other, hoping one would get a flash of inspiration… each remembering the kiss.
“Beetie?”
“Uhuh!”
“Do people in
the Retreat have separate roles? Such as catching gee-rats, taking care of the
yucky water, sorting out the electricity, being in charge of computers and
whatnot.”
“Sure!”
“And you?”
Beetie
blushed.
“Guess!”
With her
looks, only one thing came to mind.
“Beautician?”
“What?” she
giggled.
Gary
’s turn to
blush.
“Checking
people are sort of… um… well... good-looking. Girls, I mean.”
“Not far off!
My job’s to make sure everyone’s hair’s okay for going about on the surface. So
no one stands out.”
“Cool! A hairdresser!
But who does that for those zombies up there?”
“The
surfacers?”
“Yeah!”
“No one!
Robots, I’m told. In the eating halls. As they chew on their gee-rat steaks and
veg-eatables. Gets picked up by a sensor if their hair’s a mess and this robot
on wheels comes up and sorts them out. Surfacers never complain, of course, or
they’d end up on the next shuttle-bus to the Hatcheries for recycling. Our
greatest fear, both on the surface
and
down here.”
“Recycling?
And what about Blinker?”
“Works for the
medicines team.”
“Like a
doctor?”
“A what?”
Beetie asked.
Blinker was
way too young.
“Never mind.”
“There’s a
contact on the surface who gets us medicines,” the girl explained.
“Smuggled
medicines?”
“Not sure, but
whoever it is would end up in the Hatcheries if The Agenda found out. Blinker
and his two friends collect all we need.”
“Anyone in the
Retreat with epilepsy?”
“Epi... what?”
“Epi...
lepsy
.
Like a boy at my school. Took a fit in class once. Jerked about and blew
bubbles.”
“Definitely
not!”
“Good! I’ll
fake a fit and you tell Arthry I suffer from epilepsy and desperately need
special medicine. This boy took pills and stuff. Ask Arthry to make
Blinker go and get some for me. Bet if we’re right Blinker will take the
opportunity to meet up with Teeth… keep him posted. We’ll follow him. Somehow I
don’t think Teeth will expect
us
to go seeking
him
out!”
Beetie reached
forward and patted his knee.
“You’re
brilliant, Gary! I can see why God
chose
you
to help us!”
Gary
took her hand and held it up against his lips and the girl’s smile told him
this was the right thing to do.
“Remember…
epi-
lepsy
! Okay?” he checked as she followed him along the corridor
towards Arthry’s office.
“Epi-
lepsy
,”
she repeated, slowly. “Got it!”
“Now!” Gary
whispered.
He emitted a
low grunting sound, fell to the ground, rolled his eyes upwards and began to
violently flail his limbs about.
“EPI-
LEPSY
!”
screamed Beetie. “EPI
-LEPSY
!”
He heard her
hurry off in the direction of Arthry’s office as he continued to twitch and
jerk and throw himself around – far more so than his epileptic classmate – but
he needed to create a disturbance. Soon Blinker’s voice joined those huddled
around as he writhed on the floor. A door opened and Arthry boomed out:
“BLINKER!”
“Arthry?”
“Blinker, quick!
Get some special medicine for Gary…
otherwise he might die. This epi… er…?”
“Epi…
lepsy
.”
Beetie’s
voice! How sweet it sounded with his eyes closed!
“Yeah!”
affirmed Arthry. “Could be dangerous! Hurry! Stop at nothing. Okay?”
Gary
guessed The Agenda would want to keep him alive for the time being since they
needed God and what he sought from the past. Somehow his and God’s fates seemed
as intertwined as his and Beetie’s. Perhaps The Agenda would rely on him, a boy
from the past, to lead them to God, and when they’d got their hands on what the
man was seeking, they’d execute the one person who remained a threat to what
went on in the Terminus. Then they’d kill Gary.
He heard
Blinker run off down the corridor. He cut the jerking and opened his eyes. Beetie
was standing protectively beside him; gently, she laid an arm across his
shoulders (
heaven!)
whilst helping him sit up. The massive figure of
Arthry stood behind her, arms folded, his face revealing genuine concern.
“I’m okay.
Only a little turn. Might get worse without special pills, though.”
You
hopeless liar!
“Blinker’ll
sort things out. Our contact never fails us. He supplies The Agenda who make
damned sure they’ll not want for anything. Okay, the rest of you (he turned to
those who stood gawping at Gary).
Back to work!”
Gary
noticed him wink at Beetie. He was in on their deception.
The boy limped
off, savouring the experience of having Beetie’s arm around him. No way was he
going to tell the girl that the guy who took fits at school always got up and
went straight back to what he was doing!
“Any idea
where the contact hangs out?” he asked.
“Yeah! Arthry
told me. We’d better catch up with Blinker!”
Freeing her
arm from Gary, she ran on ahead,
the boy hurrying after her.
“Got one of
those mag-stun-thingies for the gee-rats?” he shouted out.
“’Course I
have!” She waited for him to catch up. “So do you. In your side-pocket.”
Gary
patted his tracksuit and came across something like a mobile phone.
“Hope I’ll
never need to use the thing!”
“Oh, you will!
One day! Remind me to show you how some time!”
Funny how
Beetie assumed he was there to stay, but this also reassured him he’d not lose
her again. Already he wondered about the next kiss... when... and how to
prolong the experience.
They left the
Retreat, heading towards the station. Voices echoed in the darkness. Blinker
and his buddies? Would they be armed with spears again? Now holding hands, he
and Beetie slowed down to soften the sound of their tread on the gravel. Soon
the tunnel ahead showed light, silhouetting three running figures. Beetie
jerked his hand, pulling him to one side. Staying close to the wall, they
hurried on to the station. It was empty.
“Follow me,”
the girl whispered.
Trailing
Beetie along the platform, more tunnels, up the familiar stationary escalator
and out of the station, he then merged with the crowd to avoid suspicion. Gary
thought about her words: ‘follow me’. It’s all he wanted to do now, follow her,
be with and protect her, and all he wanted to look at were the curves of her body
and that beautiful face.
Up there,
under the scrutiny of the security cameras, the girl’s face was changed. She
wore the same dead pan expression as all surfacers, and the boy attempted to
mimic her. Curious about the absence of older people, he whispered: “Where are
all the oldies?”
“Returned to
the Hatcheries! Surfacers are unbrained and recycled when they look old
enough.”
Unbrained?
Recycled?
How on earth do you recycle a person? As for ‘unbraining’, he
couldn’t begin to imagine, but the more he learned of this future London,
the greater his horror of the place. And what the heck
were
the
surfacers doing wandering about so aimlessly? Fed in ‘eateries’, where their
hair would be styled by robots, they presumably slept in the lifeless, towering
blocks, with no jobs to do since everything was laid on by The Agenda.
So why that walking about?
In fact, why did they exist at
all? Would the Hatcheries provide the answer?
Gary and
Beetie mingled amongst the surfacers, retracing the route of Gary’s
previous escape from the future. The street led to the shuttle-bus run. They
kept close to the buildings, passing beyond the spot where Blinker had saved
his life. Gary spotted him...
Teeth
!
He gently ushered Beetie into a doorway.
At first
glance Teeth seemed to be on his own, talking to himself, but Gary
soon recognized Blinker and his two friends standing beyond the man, facing the
other way but clearly in conversation with him. The ugly little fellow listened
intently, apparently paying no attention to his surroundings. He held something
that sparkled even in the dim light and now was their chance. When he squeezed
Beetie’s hand three times she peered up at him; he nodded and winked – their
coded communication. Three squeezes signified Teeth had been spotted, a nod,
that he had the other time-specs and a wink meant for her to wait.
Blinker and
his friends moved on to seek out their medicines contact. Teeth now stood by
himself. Gary gave Beetie the
thumbs up and she went ahead alone, in the direction of the man and totally
expressionless. Passing him, she stumbled, her foot catching that of a
surfacer. The two fell to the ground at Teeth’s feet. Gary
sprinted forwards, dodging other meandering folk, and snatched the second pair
of time-specs from his hand.
Two can
play this game,
he thought, reaching for Beetie’s arm to help her up... but
someone else was too quick for him. A blue-sleeved arm shot forwards and yanked
her away.