Evolution (18 page)

‘I understand you’ve become redundant, Heracles.’

‘I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, Durga.’

‘But Kata-Mbula has returned.’

‘To perfect the programme for The Big Event.’

‘Not your bag I take it, this thespian stuff?’

‘I am engaged in a more important project.’

‘What can be more important than The Big Event?’

‘Nothing at this exact moment, which is why I have time to visit you.’

‘My golden warriors are taking part too you know. They practise day and night to reach perfection. Their performance will outshine your amateur dramatics, I assure you.’

‘A bit of competition never hurt anyone.’

She changes the subject. ‘I understand you would like to see the new addition to our sectoid. The first baby born to
a mutant humanoid for nearly twenty years. We are very proud of her.’

‘I hear she is perfect. A complete.’

‘Your information is correct. She has no mutations.’

‘But how is that possible?’

‘Her father, one of my warriors, is a particularly beautiful specimen of humanity and I guess his genes have proved the stronger and cancelled out the mother’s rather unfortunate looks.

‘Come, follow me. I’ll take you to see them.’

Outside the door to Isis’s dormo-cube, Durga turns to me.

‘I want you to know that I haven’t forgotten the time I spent as your prisoner in C99. I promise you that one day you will be the prisoner and I the gaoler.’

If this is a threat, it doesn’t frighten me. She thinks she’s so damned superior, but if she knew what I was planning now regarding the baby she wouldn’t look so smug.

Isis is sitting with the baby in her arms surrounded by several young women, all dressed, like her, in long flowing gowns. It doesn’t take me long to realise that they are all pregnant. There is something about the formation of the group and the gentle expressions on their faces as they gaze on the baby that reminds me of a Renaissance painting I saw when I worked in the histo-lab with Odysseus.

The way Isis looks down at the babe in her arms makes her moon face look almost beautiful and I’m reminded that there was a time when I fancied her. Those days are long gone, but there is something in the tender way she studies the babe and strokes its face with the fingers of her extra little arm that tells me this is not the silly female I once knew. She has grown up. Her serene repose suggests she has found fulfilment. Motherhood suits her. There is no way she will willingly give up this baby, hers or not.

Isis looks up. Do I detect a shade of disappointment? Who did she think her unexpected visitor would be? She soon corrects her expression and looks happy enough to see me, all previous altercations forgotten.

‘Hi Heracles. Come over here and sit next me. Take a look at the best baby in the whole wide world.’

The eyes of the other females are on me as I roll across the cube. An athlete in his prime.

‘Isn’t she a darling? Her name’s Penelope.’

‘Hello Penelope,’ I say somewhat inanely. The child has a round moon face. I fancy I can see the likeness to Isis, but maybe all babies look the same.

Giggles from the audience.

‘Look at her tiny fingers and toes. You can let her hold your finger. Go on. Hold it out. That’s it. See how she grips it? Who would have thought that such tiny fingers could have such strength? Have you ever seen anything like that before?’

I have to admit I haven’t.

‘Isn’t it just cute how she winds them round your finger and clings on as if she will never let go?’ Isis leans forward, releases my finger, lifts the baby up and covers its face with kisses. ‘Who’s a beautiful baby then? You are. Yes you are.’ The kissing continues.

By the law of averages I should be embarrassed by this female mother and baby stuff, but I’m not. Isis clearly loves her baby and is behaving naturally, unconcerned about anyone else who happens to be in the cube. There is something quite touching about her uninhibited spontaneity.

‘Oh Heracles, I never believed that I would ever have a baby. And yet here she is. Mine. All mine.’

There is no doubt that Isis loves this child. I’m convinced it is her baby. I’ll tell Orlando Wolfe he’s made a mistake, that the baby is hers.

How stupid I am. Wolfe already knows that. He invented that story about her taking someone else’s baby to persuade me to abduct it.

No way will I be instrumental in taking this child away from her mother. I give an inward smile. It seems I have a heart after all.

I ask Isis about her time in Hos-sat, how she was treated there and what the doctors and nurses were like.

She answers positively about everything and the other females hang on her every word, no doubt hoping they’ll be permitted to go to this special place too to give birth. ‘I just adored the nurses and they loved me. They were totally fascinated by my little arm.’

‘Did you have many visitors?’

For a moment a cloud passes over the moon-face and one of the females puts her hand over Isis’s in sympathy. Isis soon perks up and says, ‘Odysseus came. And Mercury too. You remember him?’

‘Mercury? Of course I remember him. Did he tell you where he’s living now?’

‘Would you believe it, I forgot to ask him. You’re good on the compu, Heracles. Can you try and find out which compound he’s in? I’d like to keep in touch.’

I promise to do my best and let her know.

‘It must be good to be back home,’ I suggest.

‘Of course,’ she agrees but the cloud returns. ‘It’s not quite how I hoped it would be. I thought Osiris – Dionysus – would be here, that we would be living together as a family. But Durga keeps the warriors separate from everyone else. They live outside in the barracks and spend all their time keeping fit and practising their battle skills. Penelope and I hardly see him.’

Her eyes fill with tears and the female next to her applies pressure on her hand to comfort her. Isis manages a smile and looks round at the other females. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without these good friends. They’ve all been wonderful. Dionysus has only seen me and Penelope three times. I don’t understand it. We were so close before he went off to war. A proper couple.’

‘What about Odysseus? Can’t he find out what Dionysus is thinking?’

‘Oh – Odysseus – he’s totally as bad. He’s Penelope’s grandfather but he’s hardly ever here. Since Athene appointed him as her deputy he’s always in C99.’

Odysseus, Athene’s deputy? That’s news to me. I thought I was her deputy. The devious bitch.

‘If he’s not in C99 he’s transporting himself off to the museum on Oasis, negotiating which artefacts they are going to let him have for Museum Earth.’

I try not to look surprised. I’ve been too busy with my own projects lately to keep up to date with what going on other compounds. ‘He’s still the curator here?’

‘Yes, but he’s got new assistants now. He doesn’t need me any more.’

‘Now you know that’s not true, Isis,’ says the hand-holder. She looks up at me.

‘He’s told her again and again that she can go back to work anytime she wants to. Be fair, Isis. He says there will always be a job in the museum for you, if you want it.’

‘I know Venus. I’m being a silly bitch.’ Isis sniffs through her tears.

‘Odysseus comes to see you and Penelope whenever he can. You know that,’ says Venus.

‘He adores both of you,’ another friend adds.

‘Is he in the compound at the moment?’ I ask. ‘I’d like to see the museum. And him of course.’

‘I’m afraid he’s not,’ says Venus. ‘But we could show it to you. Isis, you and Penelope should come too. It will do you good to have a break from this cube.’

That’s how I find myself visiting Museum Earth accompanied by Isis, a baby and a gaggle of females in various stages of pregnancy.

On the way, the female called Venus grabs my arm and pulls me to one side. ‘I just want to tell you that they say that Dionysus has never been the same since he came back
from Oasis. They say he’s suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s something soldiers get after being in a war.’

There was no war. Dionysus was captured, imprisoned and put on show just as I was. It’s ridiculous. All this post-this and post-that. He sounds a neurotic weakling to me. Isis is better off without him. He’s certainly not taking his responsibilities as a father seriously.

I stop in my tracks. Venus looks up at me. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.

‘Nothing I tell her. Nothing at all.’ I can hardly explain that I am wondering how I will cope if I become a father. Not very well I imagine. I’d better think about using some kind of contraception. Unless it’s already too late.

Thor emerges from one of the store-cubes with two parcels, one long and thin, one bulky.

As we begin our trek back to Compound Creative, he explains that he’s been hiding in the store-cubes waiting for me and has come up with a brilliant idea. In order to enter C98 inconspicuously he will disguise himself as a warrior. He has sorted through a pile of uniforms and found one large enough to fit him. I have to admit that he has used his initiative to good effect, even though I now doubt the abduction to be necessary.

He has also brought a couple of rifles from the arsenal.

‘One to take with me in case of trouble. The other for you.’

‘I thought you understood I wasn’t coming with you.’

‘I do know that,’ he assures me. ‘I was thinking of the guns as a general backup for future emergencies.’

I think about what he has done. It is almost unknown for mutant humanoids to steal from one other. As a no money society we are supplied with anything we need by our brothers
in the sky and, living communally, we’ve not been too interested in personal possessions. In a society based on sharing, locked doors are not necessary. Now we are allowed outside our compounds, changes are bound to occur. There is talk of re-introducing a monetary system on Earth. If that happens personal possessions will become important. Criminal activities such as robbery and even murder are likely to become more widespread. Thor’s thefts may well be only the beginning.

‘Now all I need is the code for the transporter and I’ll be ready to do the job.’ He’s so pleased with himself I haven’t the heart to tell him that I’ve been having second thoughts about going ahead with the plan. I don’t want him to think I’ve gone soft. I’ll wait a day or two before telling him that it’s no longer necessary to do it.

‘I’ll give you the code later,’ I tell him. Without the code he can’t do a thing.

I have managed to resolve the labour problem. I will no longer be using actors as construction workers. Kata-Mbula can continue with his rehearsals day and night as far as I am concerned.

My visit to C98 gave me the idea. Seeing the basic housing provided for the warriors in the barracks made me realise that we could employ migrants – manual workers from other sectoids – to build the city. Their first job will be to build basic living quarters for themselves so there will be no need to accommodate them in Compound Creative. The city will be completely autonomous.

I put my idea about the use of migrants as labourers to Athene and she agrees that it is an appropriate solution. There has been quite a bit of unrest in some of the sectoids with workers keen for a change. She is to select suitable candidates for me. I impress on her that they must be strong, hardworking and intelligent enough to follow instructions.
Thor will be in charge of the day-to-day work as before, a position he was born to fill.

All my communications with Athene have been by pcm and restricted to business, with no mention of anything personal. I don’t question the appointment of Odysseus as her deputy, even though I am far from happy about her cavalier conduct. First she moves Kata-Mbula back to take charge of Compound Creative and now Odysseus appears to have replaced me as her closest adviser.

One thing she has not taken away from me is my plan to build a city. I am making all the decisions regarding its creation. The proposed flats or houses for the construction workers are to be built well away from the residential areas planned for the more discerning city dwellers. I envisage a kind of barrio, a working class area where the workers can establish their own community.

The buildings will resemble those in the barracks, simple, basic structures, nothing elaborate. It will be an area where the workers can rest at the end of the day, but without many extraneous creature comforts. After all, they will be here to work.

When I tell Kat my new plan for building Earth City he is delighted. ‘There,’ he says. ‘Everything is working out fine. I have Compound Creative and you have your own workers, the tower and the city. Not only that but we remain good neighbours, no?’

Kat’s right. Everything does seem to working out satisfactorily. Until Thor drops his bombshell.

He comes to see me in my office in the tower, both his mouths stretched in wide grins. ‘Mission accomplished,’ he says.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask but I already know. The heaviness in my stomach tells me.

‘I thought I might as well do it while I had time before the
construction starts again,’ he says. ‘It all went very smoothly. No one challenged me when I went into C98. They saw the uniform, not the man, just as I intended. It wasn’t difficult to locate the baby or the transporter….’

He starts to recount in detail what happened but I stop him.

‘How did you get the transporter code?’

He gives me a cunning sideways look. ‘Not too difficult. I remembered the code you gave me when you travelled from C99 to Oasis. A few adjustments and I worked out the one from C98. You’re not the only humanoid on Earth with a brain.’

I check my auto-mail. Sure enough there is a pcm from Orlando Wolfe, saying the “package” has arrived safely and, in return more building materials are on their way. He even gives me praise.

Good job, Heracles. Good job. Just let me know what else you need.

Thor stands there like a zombie expecting me to congratulate him.

‘You fool!’ I splutter. ‘I told you to wait until I told you to do it. That was Isis’s own baby you stole, and sent off to Oasis. Her baby. How do you think she is feeling now?’

Thor can’t believe my response. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. I wanted to show you what I could do. That I could use my own initiative, that I’m not just someone who obeys your orders, but a real friend, a colleague with a mind of my own. I thought….’

‘I don’t want you to think. I want you to do what I tell you. Nothing more. Do you understand?’

His mouths quiver, his head drops. For a moment I think he’s going to blub. ‘I’m sorry, Boss.’

‘Sorry doesn’t do it. Don’t you understand? You’ve abducted a baby and left a poor mother totally shattered.’

‘Sorry, I just thought….’

‘Get out! Get out! I don’t want to see your ugly mug again until tomorrow.’

He makes for the door, shoulders and back bent. I almost feel sorry for him and want to call him back. But I don’t. I hear his heavy steps as he trudges down the stairs.

I switch on the compu and search for C98. There it is. I pan round inside the compound until I find Isis’s dormo-cube. The door is ajar. Can I see inside? Ah yes, there she is, curled up in the foetal position on the bunku. I turn up the sound and make myself listen to her sobs. There’s her moon-face, streaming with tears. She sobs and sobs as if she will never stop.

Zeus, what have I done?

I switch off the compu. I can’t bear to watch any longer.

I shall have to get that baby back. I have no idea how I can do that, but know that I have to do it. It’s my fault this has happened.