(The sequel to "Dizzying
Highs and Abysmal Lows" )
25
Saturday.
Technically,
Kyra's scheduled rest day. Except she was anything but rested. Her
pillow was damp with sweat- or tears - but she couldn't recall her
dreams, only the echo of sorrow and a sense of helplessness which made
her feel sluggish. The rain tapped softly against the window, calling
her to admire the result of its collaboration with the newly risen sun.
Kyra
rolled off the bed and crossed the grey tiled floor. Very carefully she
peeled off a 30cm square of the translucent skin covering the
south-east facing window. Her gaze roamed over the over the waking City
and she had to admit, the rain and sun had created another breathtaking
morning. Even the ever-present zeppelins, delivering Father's
evangelical propaganda from on high, were bathed in the ethereal light,
framed by the radiant curves of a resplendent rainbow. Kyra grinned.
Pure EC-10. Evidentiary would have a hard time cataloguing a sunrise
like this! Unwillingly, she smoothed the square back into place.
For a
short while, Kyra busied herself with mundane matters, disposing of the
small amount of accumulated rubbish, folding cleaned clothes and making
a note to inform Complex Maintenance about another broken dryer in her
Floor's Laundry. Although she considered that she was not really cut
out for domesticity, ingrained habits were difficult to break and her
small Unit soon sparkled. She'd even polished the huge viewscreen. When
she was fully-dosed, she would have either sat dutifully in front of it
and absorbed Father's platitudes, or read several chapters of the
Manifesto, now gathering dust in a drawer.
Instead,
once she'd replaced the cleaning materials under the sink, Kyra decided
her muscles were a little sore after her tussle with Harrison and she
needed to restore her flexibility. She pulled out her exercise mat and
hand weights and went through some rigorous callisthenics. Half-an-hour
of working her upper and lower abs and obliques, adding some
biceps/triceps combinations and finishing with lower body stretches
left her dripping, but exhilarated.
After
a well-needed shower, she changed into her uniform for the weekly
scheduled trip to the Nutrition store across the square from her
Complex. It wasn't that she didn't have a set of informal clothes, just
that her black Tetragrammaton uniform tended to afford her some
personal space. Foodwise, Kyra still didn't care what she ate, despite
the improvement in her sense of taste. There again, the food was so
bland, it rarely tasted of anything. On the way out, she plucked her
Personal Allowance card from the little notice board by the exit.
Providing the lines were reasonable, there should be time to store
everything before her afternoon meeting with the Vice-Council.
The
ground was drying up as Kyra strode by the monumental Equilibrium
Centre, which served her Sector of the City. She suppressed a shiver,
knowing she would eventually have to venture into its brooding interior
to collect her replacement pack of Prozium - a seriously risky few
hours. She avoided that disagreeable subject by thinking about another.
With the line at the Nutrition store typically slow, Kyra shifted her
brain into neutral and let her thoughts idle.
Now
that Harrison was in the clutches of the Technicians, her task was
essentially completed. She had been up until well after midnight,
finishing her report. Yet many aspects of the last few days still
troubled her. Mentally, she split them into two columns. In the first,
she placed all her concerns about the Vice-Council. He still hadn't
explained how he had known to move the barrels. Then there was the
issue of his telling her to take Enforcement officers when she
apprehended Harrison. DuPont recognised the name on her list instantly,
yet offered nothing. And what the hell was he doing with Mary O'Brien's
personal items? And why was the odious Cleric Brandt skulking around
the upper floors? Too many questions, here.
She
turned her inner eye to the second column. There was just one entry
there. Preston. Kyra wondered whether she had her emotional control
sufficiently secure to deal with any thoughts about him. She was
debating this when a police car drew up and an officer climbed out. It
was interesting that a few Citizens around her shuffled uncomfortably
at the police presence, so Kyra took the initiative and stepped out of
the line. The officer nodded to her.
"Administrator
Flynn. The Vice-Council requests your presence, directly. We will
escort you."
"Thank
you, Officer..." Kyra inspected his ident. "...Mason. That will be most
convenient." She slid into the back seat for the 20-minute ride. That
the Tetragrammaton knew her Nutrition store times was of no surprise.
She wondered what was so urgent.
Before
picking her up, the two officers in the front had obviously been
reviewing an incident and they continued their discussion. Mason had a
theory.
"It
must've been a whole group of them, Devlin. No-one person can take out
that many Sweepers."
"Yes,"
replied his partner, nodding in agreement. "Still, if these terrorists
are escalating their attacks, we'll have to be more vigilant."
Kyra
thought rapidly. This didn't make sense. She asked the officers, in an
official capacity, to brief her on the event. No-one was sure how or
why at this point, but an entire team of Sweepers had been murdered -
their words - in the Nethers sometime last night. Perhaps the
Vice-Council would make some reference to it. Kyra experienced a deep
sense of foreboding. More shifting sands. She wished she could talk to
John. Throughout the last two years, she realised he had always been
her fulcrum, the one stable point, no matter how much the world was out
of balance.
26
"I am
most impressed with the outcome, Administrator. In fact, Father and the
Council have agreed that you be given a special commendation, in
recognition of your efforts."
They
were not in the Vice-Council's office, but in an annex to one side.
There was a central area populated by desks and Clerks, busily engaged.
At the far end, Kyra could see a corridor, with glass-walled offices on
each side.
This
turn of events troubled Kyra, but she maintained her equilibrium.
"Thank
you, Vice-council. I am honoured, although I must state that I was only
doing my duty, Sir."
"Indeed.
But even duty deserves its just reward."
As he spoke, the
Vice-council motioned her to follow him. They stopped at the first of
the offices. Inside, Kyra could see a standard desk, laptop terminal
and the usual accoutrements. Then DuPont dropped the bombshell.
"I have decided that your
particular skills are more suited to the analytical nature of the work
in my Office. As of now, you are officially transferred. This will be
your designated workspace."
That she was able to
respond with perfect equanimity was probably due to the shockwaves that
pulsed through her system, shutting down the emotional connection
between her brain and her senses.
"It will be a privilege to
serve you, Vice-Council."
"Good. Good." DuPont's
eyes travelled over Kyra's shoulder as footsteps approached. "Ah!
Lisle." He did not sound overly welcoming.
Kyra blinked, as a tall,
lean-faced man sauntered across the room. She had never seen anything
quite like him. He was dressed in a long black coat, similar to her
uniform, but open to reveal a black suit complemented by a dark shirt
and tie like the Vice-Council. Although he stopped stood a respectful
distance from DuPont, Kyra felt he radiated arrogance.
"Lisle is one who brought
you Vasily, Administrator," advised DuPont.
Kyra nodded briefly, then
her lips parted slightly as she made the association.
"Lisle. Ellis. Of course,
there had to be someone on the inside."
"That was fast," observed
Lisle, condescendingly. "And you gave us Harrison. Pity the little
cripple didn't die in the Infirmary, where I put him in the first
place. Serves him right for what he did." Lisle indicated the scar.
"Quite," warned DuPont,
raising his hand. He turned to Kyra. "That will be all for now,
Administrator Flynn. Until tomorrow." Fingers on the still raised hand
gestured to Lisle to follow as the Vice-Council walked towards his
office.
"Maybe we'll be working
together again soon, Administrator Kyra Flynn," drawled Lisle. As he
moved away, Kyra experienced a truly nasty sensation as his hand
trailed from her shoulder to her elbow.
She managed to hold
herself rigid until he had disappeared, then walked as quickly as was
prudent to the nearest Personal Room. Locking herself in one of the
cubicles, Kyra harshly rubbed her left arm. Her skin crawled where
Lisle had stroked it. She felt nauseous and profoundly angry. The man
was abominable! There was no way in Hell he was dosing! The question
was, how was he hiding it from the Vice-Council?
The answers crept slyly
into her conscious reasoning. More cracks in the framework of her
already highly unstable reality. Something Partridge said came back to
her:
"What makes you think that those who
control the system necessarily live by its rules? And would they
themselves not tolerate and even exploit the seemingly aberrant
behaviour of others if it served their purpose?"
The ramifications chilled
her. Did DuPont know she had ceased her interval. Was she
serving a purpose? She could send herself round in circles or she could
accept the situation as it was. Always the pragmatist, she chose the
latter.
On her way back to her
Unit, a stray thought meandered through. What if Lisle had killed those
Sweepers?
Day VII - Sunday 
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