The Paper Eater (9 page)

– Catch you later, he said, sauntering off ahead of her.

Just a boy really, she thought, seeing the way his jacket hung limp on him.

– Hi, people person! Leo Hurley greeted her hoarsely.

Hannah started, jolting her tonic water. Some splashed out and fizzed on her wrist, and she reached for a napkin. It had the Festival logo on it – a big square with a bold cross in it, the Bird of Liberty flying above. She always felt ill at ease at these functions. Leo had a crisp-crumb stuck to his beard. His hair was dishevelled, and there was something restless about his eyes. They were gleaming, like he was asleep, and she was the nightmare.

– How are your Munchies? he asked. Hannah sensed he was just making small talk; his glance kept shunting about the room. They were standing in a corner, away from the throng that crowded round the stainless-steel bar. The place was rapidly filling.

– Irritating, replied Hannah. If I hear one more faked suicide, I’ll scream.

– Fleur told me about one today, threatening to kill his whole family with dry-cleaning fluid, said Leo, still scanning the room. But there must’ve been a programming error, or a mis-route, because Dolly kept asking him about brands. What brand of dry-cleaning fluid he was planning to use. Whether he’d like it delivered, or would he be going to his local parc. Was he aware of the loyalty discount.

This wasn’t new.

– So what happened?

– Don’t know. He hung up. Leo gave his barking laugh. He said it was like talking to the wall. He –

Hannah followed the line of Leo’s eyes.

The room had hushed.

Wesley Pike stood framed in the doorway. Some people have a magnetic presence. They inch their way into your subconscious and you think about their bodies more often than you’d like to.

He was taller than almost everyone else in the room, but not only taller; broader, bigger. It was as if he were built on a different scale, out of different materials – not banal gristle and blood, but something more potent, more valuable. Just looking at him – he’d begun working the room now, up and down, like the shuttle of a loom – made Hannah blush. It was unnerving that she could so easily picture his torso beneath. Hairless, muscular. He spent about twenty seconds on each interchange, clutching an arm just above the elbow, patting a shoulder, gripping a hand for a tight, stimulating second. It was like receiving a small electric charge – one that was weirdly prone to trigger a sex thought. He flashed his smile like a fat wallet. It made you feel special. She knew she wasn’t the only woman to feel violently attracted to him. Men were too, apparently. Even those who weren’t usually that way inclined.

– He uses a pheromone spray for sexual charisma, murmured Leo, picking up on her train of thought. Someone saw him in the Mens’, once, doing his armpits.

She laughed, then cupped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed. The idea was bizarre, ridiculous.

– Why would he do that?

After all, Wesley Pike was famously celibate. The only rumour about him that remained consistent was that he had a relationship with the Boss herself. Not a physical relationship, obviously. Something more mysterious. Almost spiritual.

– Just for the hell of it, said Leo, smiling crookedly. It’s the only power he’s got really, when you think about it.

He didn’t look powerless.

He was making his way to the small platform now. As the
chatter dipped and faded to a respectful hush, all eyes rested on the Facilitator General’s flat, smooth face.

– Well, he began, smiling. A big wide smile, and at the same time he stretched out his arms as though to embrace them all. The customers have spoken. Euripides said – he signalled quotation marks – that mobs in their emotions are much like children, subject to the same tantrums and fits of fury. He might have added that when they’re pleased they’ll shout it from the rooftops.

A small cheer and a bubble of murmurs.

– We at the Liberty Corporation are honoured to have been chosen to service this island for a second ten-year term. None of us is surprised by today’s result.

He gave another wide smile. The room seemed to froth with the chemistry of it.

– But it’s gratifying nonetheless. He paused.

Hannah wondered whether he was about to get lyrical. He was capable of it. Sceptred isles, enchanted paradises and whatnot. Might he choose this moment to voice the word that hung at the back of Atlanticans’ thoughts, more and more? Or was it too early, even after ten years, to talk about Utopia? No; instead, he was praising ‘the organic hermetics’ of the Liberty principle. What other service had gone so far in pleasing all of the people, all of the time? You only had to look at history. The system was nothing more than a blueprint for freedom. Freedom
within
freedom. Freedom
to
and freedom
from
. Freedom
that nourishes itself
.

– We take pride in our customer-care programme, he continued. Those of you who work in Munchhausen’s will know just how valuable our customer feedback is. The customers like to see those figures published.

He smiled.

Yes; they liked to see those simple graphs. Up for good, down for bad. She’d heard it all before – about how it made the customers feel safe, to know that what they said
counted. About how feedback helped keep Marginals off the streets, put hard-core losers offshore, didn’t threaten the fragile physics of the eco-climate. Et cetera et cetera.

– People need a system they can trust. A system that doesn’t let them down, Pike was saying. With Libertycare, what you see is what you get. Which is why other nations – he paused, looked meaningfully around the room – are now beginning to take an active interest in adopting the software.

More cheering. People were getting quite drunk, Hannah noticed. There was a feeling of well-being, relief, joy even. Life at Head Office had its moments.

Wesley Pike was grinning now, the pleasure radiating out, blessing them all with its warm glow.

– So this is an important victory for what may one day become – why not? – a new world order. And I’m sure if the Boss herself could join us in a drink – a smile quirked at the corner of his mouth – she would.

There was laughter. Yes; people were genuinely happy, thought Hannah, relaxing slightly. We’ve worked hard for this.

– So I’m going to propose a toast to Libertycare, he finished, raising his glass. And the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number.

A cheer went up, and Hannah caught sight of Fleur Tilley, sozzled, lifting her glass. Soon the room was awash with babble.

– Listen, Hannah, said Leo. He was easing her towards an area of the room where the crowd was thinner. Still darting his eyes about, as though looking for someone.

– There’s something I found out.

Hannah wondered what was different about his eyes. They seemed to sit at a tilted angle in his face. Uneasily, she felt for the strip of bubble-wrap in her pocket, and popped two blisters.

– What?

– It’s a … gossip thing.

A gossip thing?
Leo didn’t gossip.

– What d’you mean? What’s up?

– I was on the top floor earlier, with the Boss, and –

But suddenly he was gone.

When she turned round she saw why: Wesley Pike was heading towards her, smiling and purposeful. He moved like a car. A big smile; next thing, he’d parked and his hand was on her shoulder, thrilling and frightening.

– The Boss is pleased with you, Hannah, he said. Your Profile’s up.

Hannah felt her face redden and she reached for her bubble-wrap. More than anything else, she wanted to pop another blister. His hand on her shoulder felt like a heavy sexual moth.

– Go ahead, he said. If it makes you more comfortable.

He noticed everything.

– It’s a bad habit, she muttered, shoving it back in her pocket.

– There are worse ways to deal with tension, he said.

She followed his eyes. Fleur Tilley was already well past the tottering stage.

– At least we won’t have to send
you
to rehab, said Pike.

He had made a joke, Hannah realised. She tried to make a noise like laughter. Then gulped at her tonic water.

– Anyway, I have good news for you, he said.

His eyes were grey, clear like glass. She wondered how he could see through them. She felt the sweat prick her armpits. He smiled, his glance whizzing expertly across the room, then returning to her and resting – surely just for a brief, flickering moment, actually resting on her breasts? She felt a burning sensation, low down.

– The Boss has decided to move you.

Her heart caught, and she moved her weight from one foot to the other.

–
Reward success, questionnaire failure
, he said, smiling at the quotation. She was being praised as well as flattered, she realised suddenly. She stared at his chest and pictured running her hands all over it, like a blind person feeling a wall.

– There are going to be some changes. Now that the Festival’s behind us.

– Changes? She immediately felt stupid, echoing him like that. But what did he mean? What was she supposed to say?

– You’ll be part of a new venture. A short-term project. It’s beyond your normal remit, but the Boss reckons you can cope. He smiled. Big, broad. – So how d’you feel about doing some people-work?

What?

She felt panic rise within her like vomit. She clutched her bubble-wrap fiercely, feeling the air-pockets strain with the pressure. She felt trapped, conned. No, she thought. Not that.
Reward success
, you said.

– I don’t have the experience. I can’t –

– At Liberty, there’s no such word. He smiled, his eyes floating over her.

– But my Block –

– It’s nothing threatening. You’ll find it interesting. What do you know about Multiple Personality Disorder?

Not much, thought Hannah, trying to focus. Almost nothing.

– It’s quite rare, she said, searching her brain for stray knowledge. I mean, hardly anyone gets it. It’s a – she fumbled for the words – a rare delusional thing. That’s all I know.

– Well, you’ll be discovering a lot more. He paused. – It’ll stretch you, socially.

Hannah felt herself not stretching, but shrinking. She supposed that she felt flattered, deep down, below the inappropriate sex thoughts and the panic.
Reward success
. So why did it feel like a punishment? She looked into her glass. At the bottom was a lonely sliver of lemon.

Multiple Personality Disorder. That was when a person thought they were lots of other people. Ran several identities in their head at once. She couldn’t remember the statistics, but it was an unusual condition. You had to be pretty disturbed. There was a proxy version too, where you imagined the people were semi-independent of you. Orphans were prone to it.

– I’d better say yes, then, she mustered.

It came out gobbly and savage, like the noise the turkey made.

Leo Hurley must have been waiting, because as soon as Pike had powered off he was there next to her, clutching his drink, the crisp-crumb still sticking grimly to his beard. Hannah was popping the bubble-blisters, one by one, not caring now who saw her, her mind churning miserably.

– What’s up?

She gulped air. Forced herself not to look in Pike’s direction, so as not to stoke it up again, that awful invasive thing he’d done to her.

– Nothing. I don’t know. Some new project. I’m off the Munchies. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s people-work. The words tasted like poison. – You said there was gossip.

Leo’s eyes slid sideways, and he coughed, then turned his body to shield them both from the rest of the room. The tall handsome man from the lift came to the table to reach for a drink. Odd, thought Hannah, the way he wore headphones at a party. Perhaps it was a field-associate affectation. The young man nodded distractedly at Hannah.

– I was in the Temple earlier, said Leo. His eyes were gleaming again. He looked slightly mad. – Just after the Festival.

The Temple was where the Boss was housed. On the top floor.

– And?

Leo lowered his voice.

– You mustn’t say anything. But she’s switched modes.

– How d’you mean?

Hannah wasn’t aware the Boss operated in modes in the first place.

– Altered focus.

– How? What to?

– Well, the last ten years, she’s been running in default mode. Democratic auto-pilot.

– And now? Hannah realised what had happened to his eyes, now. They were frightened.

– A new code’s kicked in. He licked dry lips, and swallowed. – I’m pretty sure she’s switched to damage limitation.

And then he was gone.

Damage limitation.

Next to Hannah, closer than she’d thought, the pale man with the headphones was pouring himself a drink.

– More tonic water? he offered Hannah.

– No thanks.

She’d popped all the bubbles by now. She’d have to go back to her apartment, and cut another strip from the roll. Or better still, go back to her apartment and climb into bed and try not to think about what Wesley Pike had said.

– We meet again, the man said, holding out a hand to shake. Benedict Sommers.

He’d got rid of the green gum somewhere. His eyes were the palest blue. Like swimming-pool water, the shallow end. She hated this. Leo understood, only because he was the same, or sort of. But no one else did. Benedict smiled, and held out a packet.

– Gum? he offered. Hannah shook her head.

– No thanks.

He put the packet away.

– I’m sorry, she blurted. But I can’t talk to people I don’t
know. I just can’t do it. I have a sort of – allergy. It’s not you. It’s – me.

– Hey, he said. It’s been a long day. I understand.

And he flashed her a rueful smile. Hannah couldn’t think of anything to say, or any reason to say it, so she turned and walked off.

Benedict Sommers watched her.

Everyone knew about Hannah Park. The brilliant mind, blocked by the antisocial personality, and trapped in a body she hadn’t a clue what to do with. Not a bad body, in actual fact, he observed. But she wheeled it about like it was a trolley for her head. An interesting case, but not so unusual in Head Office. The Boss had a talent for targeting the right brains to fit the right task. The Munchies, in Hannah’s case. Her mother had used her as a proxy all through her childhood, apparently. There was something pitiful about her.