Slated (34 page)

‘But you’d remember the twenties, then. When there were all the riots, and gangs, and everyone cowered in their homes in fear and never went out.’

She laughs again. ‘That is one version of events. That was also when mobile phones were banned for under-21s. They used them to organise demonstrations, you see? But it wasn’t as bad as all that. Not to start with. Though it
was
different to today: you had to be careful where you went at night, that sort of thing.’ Her eyes track to the side, to Lorders at the corner. In black with machine guns.

‘Now you just have to watch out for
them
.’

She nods slightly, and I’m surprised.

‘You said it wasn’t so bad to start with. What about later on?’

‘Don’t you take history in school? After the crash – you know, from the credit crunch and economic collapse throughout Europe – when the UK withdrew from the EU and closed borders, there was a period when things did go pretty crazy.’

‘I’ve seen films of the riots.’

‘They show the worst of it. Most of the student demonstrations were peaceful, in the early days. But frustration and anger grew.’

In history lessons it is all out of control mobs, wildeyed teenagers destroying property and killing people. Stunned that Mum would tell me this, I say nothing. She is talking, maybe, to distract herself from where we are going, and what happened there last week.

‘Mum and Dad used to fight about it late at night: I’d creep down the stairs, and listen in.’

‘Your dad was the PM. So he won the argument.’

‘Not to start with. Early on he was just another candidate; there was an election on the way. Mum was a lawyer, big on civil liberty.’

‘What is that?’

She shakes her head. ‘To think you need to ask that question. What do you think it means?’

‘Liberty means something like freedom, doesn’t it?’

She nods. ‘Freedom of speech; freedom of action; freedom of assembly. So Mum had very different ideas from Dad about how things should be sorted out. She ended up campaigning for a new political party, Freedom UK.

‘So they were on opposite sides?’

‘Yes.’

‘But your dad won.’

‘Not exactly. It wasn’t a clear result. The two parties had to form a coalition, though Dad’s party had the stronger position. It made for interesting breakfast times, believe me. So the thing is, Kyla, neither of them won. They compromised. And that gave us you.’

‘I don’t understand.’

She turns the radio up slightly, and faces me. Speaks in a low voice. ‘You have to keep secrets for me to talk about this any more. You told me once that you can’t; I think you probably can. But do you want me to go on?’

The good little Slated should say no, and avoid dangerous knowledge.
But she isn’t in control just now.
‘Tell me.’

‘Well, on the one side you had my dad and the beginning of the Law and Order movement, that gave us Lorders. Zero tolerance on violence and civil disobedience; harsh punishments for law breakers. On the other side was the view that the young – the student demonstrators, the gangs – should be rehabilitated. That often what they have done isn’t their fault. It is where they came from, how they were raised – they might have been mistreated. They deserve consideration and respect as human beings; help, not punishment.’

‘How does this lead to me?’

‘There were these discoveries. I don’t understand the science much. About memories in the brain. They were trying to help people with autism and so on. But they found a bit by accident that a certain procedure took a person’s memories away.’

‘Slating.’

‘Exactly. So it was the perfect solution for the Coalition government. Instead of harshly punishing criminals, they could be given a clean slate – that is where the popular term, Slating, came from – and start over. A second chance.’

I think about what she said. ‘So both sides could say they got what they wanted. Is that what compromise is?’

Mum laughs, but it isn’t the sort of laugh at anything funny, and her face isn’t amused. ‘More like neither got what they wanted, and both blamed the other for anything and everything. They did it then, and they still do it now in the Central Coalition we have today. And that is also where Levos came from.’

I look at the circle around my wrist that runs my life; 5.2 just now. I give it a twist and pain stabs through my temples. I know it will do this, yet can’t stop myself now and then from pulling at the chain of my prison. ‘How does them compromising give me a Levo?’

‘Well, Freedom UK said we must make sure the poor Slateds are happy; the Lorders said we must make sure they don’t slip back to their evil ways. Answer? A Levo. You have to stay happy; you can’t do anything wrong. Both sides are pleased as they got what they said they wanted.’

‘Huh. Obviously, they’ve never had to wear one.’

Mum laughs again. ‘Just so.’

‘Did you take sides? Between your mum and dad.’

‘Mostly I tried to keep peace at home, and sat on the fence. Then.’

‘Then?’

She doesn’t answer for so long, that I think she won’t. Then turns to me, her eyes, glistening. ‘You could say when they died, I got off the fence.’

We are nearly at the search point. Neither of us says anything else. Her parents died when a terrorist bomb hit their car. Whatever she might have thought before that, there is no doubt in my mind which side of the fence she ran to: the Lorders. She must have, after terrorists killed her parents. How could she not?

Yet, while our car is searched, I watch Mum’s face. There are things going on inside her that go beyond her words. As before, the Lorders acknowledge who she is; there is some deference in them around her that I don’t see in their interactions with other people. She accepts it. But she doesn’t like it.

I wonder what she left unsaid.

Dr Lysander taps at her screen, then looks up.

‘I see that during the attack last week, you went to the tenth floor. Then your levels dropped so much, you had to be sedated. Tell me about it.’

Straight to the chase.

‘I tried to go to the nurses’ station like you said. The lights went out. The nurse…’

And I stop. I don’t want to think about that.

‘I know about the nurse,’ Dr Lysander says. ‘That must have been shocking for you to deal with. But you didn’t black out then.’

‘No. I went to the stairs, to the tenth floor. I’m not sure why.’

‘It was your place here, the one you knew best: it makes perfect sense for you to go there. But why do you think you got through it all, and then, just when things were safe, your levels dropped?’

Because of Phoebe
. But I can’t say that.

I shrug. ‘Maybe once I stopped running, it all crowded in on me.’

She tilts her head to one side, considering. ‘Perhaps.’ She doesn’t look convinced, like she knows something else is behind it.

‘Were you all right?’ I ask. ‘I was worried about you.’ And the words are true as I say them. There is no doubt that she would have been a target for the terrorists.

Her eyes open a little wider, her face softens. ‘Thank you Kyla; I appreciate that. I was fine. They took me to a safe place with some other people to look after us.’

‘Why didn’t they take that nurse, as well. Did you know her?’

‘I did: Angela was her name.’ She looks sad. ‘But sometimes choices have to be made.’

‘But—’

‘Enough, Kyla. I have something to ask you. Did you find out everything?’

‘What?’

‘Did you learn what you wanted to know.’

My stomach twists. She knows; somehow she knows. That I looked at her computer. I stay silent, guts twisting in fear. Imagine what the Lorders will make of
that.

‘Yes, Kyla, I’m afraid I saw what you did. There is a little camera, you see? In my office; one that I monitor. Also the computer tracks what files are opened and shut again. So I saw just what you did.’ She sits back in her chair, calmly. ‘But I’ve turned the camera off now, and deleted that sequence. No one else knows. Come on. Pull your chair around, and we will look together.’

My jaw drops.

‘Now, Kyla,’ she says.

I pull my chair to the other side of the desk next to hers. And she goes through the files I looked at, one by one, and explains: the admissions process; my brain scans; the surgery. Then to the ‘Recommendations’ section that I couldn’t get out of my mind.

‘This bit, here: “board recommends termination; Dr Lysander overrules.” What does it mean?’ I ask.

‘The Hospital Board was concerned about your nightmares and control, generally. They felt letting you out of the hospital environment represented a risk to yourself and those around you.’

‘You overruled. You didn’t agree with them.’

‘That is what I said. But they were right. At the very least you were a risk to yourself.’

‘I don’t understand. Why did you let me out?’

She half shrugs. ‘I convinced myself you deserved the chance; I was curious, certainly, how you would do. But mostly I wanted to study you and see what would happen.’

‘Like a rat in a cage.’

She half smiles. ‘More like a rat released from a cage.’

‘But why would you want to study me?’

‘There is something different about you, Kyla. I want to know what it is. Did something go wrong in the procedure? No; every test and scan says it was successful. Yet there is something…. This is just you and me, here. No one else. Can you tell me?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Is there anything else you want to know? Can I satisfy your curiosity; then perhaps, you can satisfy mine.’

I squirm. There are so many questions I could ask, but I should ask none of them.
Ask.

But it is dangerous. I am supposed to be being the perfect Slated girl; I told Ben, I agreed within myself to follow this course of action.
Ask.

‘Who is Slated? I mean, I know convicted criminals are Slated. But who else?’

‘What makes you think anyone else would be Slated? That would be illegal.’

I stare back at her, don’t answer.

She nods her head a few times, amusement crosses her face. ‘You are perceptive. And that is an interesting choice of question. Surprising, even. Why do you ask it?’

‘It is just some people I know who have been Slated I can’t imagine ever having done anything wrong.’

‘Sometimes, life is very painful, Kyla. At times people need help to get through it, and we provide that help.’

‘I don’t understand.’

She hesitates. ‘An example, then: your sister. What is her name, again? I recognised her that day she waited with you.’

‘Amy? Why would you remember her?’

‘It is breaking a few dozen laws talking to you about this, Kyla.’ She taps at her screen. Amy’s face fills it: Amy 9612. She goes to the admission screen. Again there is a photo, but it is very different to mine. Amy is years younger but there is no mistaking her smile: she is full of joy on her way to being Slated. Dr Lysander enters a password to get further: so that is why I couldn’t find out why I was Slated. I needed a password.