Threader (20 page)

The balcony outside is covered in blue tiles and ivy that crawls around the building in lush clusters of emerald green leaves. A table stands at one corner, with an open bottle of champagne inside a glass chiller. Long-stemmed glasses sit to one side of the table and curiously, a plain wooden box sits on the other. Something about it catches my eye, but I can't put my finger on why. Eckhart pulls the heavy curtains closed and shuts the balcony doors.

‘How are you holding up?' he asks, pouring me a glass of champagne.

‘Fine, thank you.' I accept the drink and sip the sweet liquid, bubbles tingling my nose. My eyes keep darting back to the wooden box on the table, and I have difficulty concentrating on what Eckhart is saying as he pours himself a glass.

‘I could sense your nerves in there,' he says. ‘But I think you did just fine.'

‘Thank you,' I murmur.

Eckhart lifts his champagne glass to his lips. ‘Tell me, Josie. Is your uncle a religious man?'

‘Sorry?' The topic is so unexpected that I have trouble following.

Eckhart's glass hovers near his twisted lips. ‘I'm asking if you were raised to believe in the existence of God.'

‘I never really gave it much thought,' I say, stumbling for an answer.

Eckhart takes a sip, then lowers the glass and stares into it. ‘My own mother was quite devout. We attended church every Sunday, without fail.' His gaze swings to me and there's a mocking look there. ‘She used to tell me that all things were His design, His will.'

I swallow another mouthful of my drink, wondering if this is some sort of test.

‘Your mother, Alice, once told me she wasn't sure about the existence of an actual God,' Eckhart continues, ‘but rather a balance of things. A divine sense of justice. Very quaint, really. Of course, we never agreed on much anyway. For one, I think the universe is inherently unfair. A good thing, I suppose. After all, how horrific would it be if everything bad that happened to us, occurred because we deserved it.' He gives me a lopsided smile. ‘I think I take comfort in the random cruelty of life.'

My breath is shallow as I wait for him to reveal more. Now.
Tonight
. I'll finally learn about what drove my parents away from Helios.

‘I understand back in your hometown you did some work for a low level TP that wasn't quite legal.' Eckhart sets his glass down on the table and I struggle to connect the dots between God, my mother and my neighbour Karla, but come up empty.

‘I needed the money.' My answer is defensive and I hope Eckhart isn't going to mention the trouble it got me into.

‘According to the police report, the TP claims you helped swindle her clients.'

I'm too shocked to reply, then mentally kick myself for not realising it sooner. Karla was the one who gave my name to the police. Not for the first time, I'm grateful I'm far away from home.

‘Why did you never tell the TP you were a threader?' he asks.

‘I don't know.' But I do, and from Eckhart's expression, he knows I'm lying.

‘You didn't tell her,' he says, ‘because you understand that knowledge is power. Something I'm sure your uncle taught you. To never show anyone, friend or foe, the full extent of your powers.'

‘Karla wasn't my enemy,' I say quickly.

Eckhart dismisses my words with a wave. ‘If she had full knowledge of what you can do, she could have been. Trust is a valuable commodity. Not something to be given freely.'

Words that sound like they could have come from Bobby himself. I think of the friendship I'd formed with Cora and Darsh. They don't care what I can or can't do. They want to be my friends, despite knowing what I am. A small tendril of doubt unfurls through me, wondering if they really trust me. Just how far do friendships extend? How do you measure them? I'd never had real friends before. There were people I could hang out with, sure, but no one I'd call close. And boyfriends had been an extreme rarity.

‘Have you ever used your talents on others without their knowledge?' Eckhart's question is blunt.

‘No.' I see the scepticism in his face and quickly add, ‘I've never threaded with anyone before. James didn't like me using my talents.'

‘A fact I have trouble understanding.' Eckhart doesn't look convinced and I don't blame him. I wouldn't believe me, either.

‘Your talents are strong individually,' he continues. ‘Are you telling me you've never even thought to use your TP to enter someone's mind and give it a nudge in a direction that would have benefited you?'

‘No.' My voice is firm, but a nagging thought brings up several times in my past when I had used my TK to help me, or the casual TP flick through someone's head. They were never serious breaches of the code of abstinence James had preached, but I know he would have disapproved, nevertheless. ‘I mean, I've scanned people telepathically sometimes. It's hard not to. But I've never influenced anyone.'

‘That shows amazing resilience,' Eckhart says. ‘And I'm sure you made James proud.' He crosses the balcony to the table and picks up the wooden box, holding it out to me. ‘I'd like you to do me a favour and try to open this, if you could. And if you're wondering, yes, this is a test.'

I put down my glass and take the box. The wood is smooth and a faint smell of eucalyptus drifts up to meet my nose. When I search for the lid's seam, I can't find it. Old memories tickle my mind and I listen as the box whispers to me, so faint I can barely hear it.

‘There's a latch somewhere there,' Eckhart says. ‘Try to find it.'

Familiarity drifts over my thoughts. As if I've been here before, holding this box in my hands. My fingers locate and push a hidden lever. There's a click and a segment slides open. I shift it around, moving without thinking, finding the mechanisms to open a box that I seem to know so well. A moment later the lid springs up, revealing nothing inside. Eckhart pries it from my hands with difficulty.

‘A wonderful job.' He sets it back down on the table. ‘Exactly as I'd hoped.'

My hands shake as I pick up my glass, and I manage to take a sip without spilling anything down my dress. Eckhart pulls a cigar out of his jacket pocket and lights it.

‘There's nothing inside,' I say pointlessly. What I really want to ask, is who gave him the trick box, because I'd recognise James's workmanship anywhere.

‘Allow me to explain.' Eckhart exhales a cloud of smoke and strolls over to the edge of the balcony, staring out into the darkness that blankets the valley. ‘One of the projects James and Alice worked on was the Ciliary Gate. Did James ever talk of it?'

‘No,' I say, which isn't a lie, since it was Darsh who had mentioned it to me, but I keep that fact to myself.

‘Half the Executive Board tried to shut the project down before it even started. Some had the misplaced fear we might rip a hole into the shadow biosphere and contaminate ours. As if I was too stupid to not take steps to ensure that didn't happen.' He glances at me. ‘That box was a gift from James and Alice. A demonstration, if you like.'

‘I don't understand,' I say. ‘How does a trick box relate to their work?'

‘Because in order to protect their secrets, your parents devised certain safeguards. That trick box, as you called it, was an early prototype of the safety measures they used. A demonstration of a complex technique that wasn't a firewall or defensive program, but an impenetrable physical barrier that protected their work inside the gate.'

I join him at the edge of the balcony, trying to focus on what he's saying, but my gaze keeps going back to the box with its hidden panels and levers that remind me so much of the cherry wood puzzle-chest deep inside my mind.

Eckhart makes a grand gesture over the valley. ‘The shadow biosphere, and finding out the secrets it holds, was their obsession.' He puffs on his cigar and plumes of smoke twist into the night sky. ‘Exploration was in their blood, you might say. And there was plenty of commercial interest, with plausible theories that the biosphere contained valuable gases and minerals, just there for the taking. The Ciliary Gate project was supposed to provide us access.' Eckhart takes the cigar out of his mouth, examining the lit end. ‘It was supposed to be the discovery of a bold new world. But when the gate opened, it became unstable and there were some deaths involved. Alice never recovered from the guilt. And one day, they were both just gone.' He turns to me. ‘That's why they left. Because of that project and its setbacks. And they not only left, but they disappeared so that no one could find them again.'

A piece of my past falls into place with an almost audible click. Of the cabin, hidden so deep in the woods, so far from anyone. Of James, never wanting me to reveal my talent to anyone. Did he fear that I would hurt people, like he and Alice had? Did they think their talents had been contaminated by what had happened, passing some sort of defect on to me?

‘Once we isolated the cause of the failure,' Eckhart continues, ‘we put other threader and technopath teams on the project, but no one yet has been able to move past the first security measure your parents put in place. No one has had the intuitive thread required to unlock its secrets.'

‘How many people died?' I ask, thinking of the guilt my parents must have suffered. How many lives were broken by their hands.

‘Enough,' Eckhart says gravely. ‘But it is a mistake that is in the past and it has nothing to do with you. When you established contact with Helios and we realised who you were, I knew it was a sign. That you might hold the answer to the gate's secrets. That you can be our future.'

‘But I don't know anything about this gate,' I say.

‘Of course not,' Eckhart says. ‘But you knew a little of your parents. Tell me, what do
you
think drove them in their attempts to explore the shadow biosphere?'

I think hard, because I know it's important. Not just to Eckhart, but to me. But there are no revelations now, and all I can think of is how kind and gentle my father was, and the memory of my mother gently smoothing my hair as I fell asleep.

Finally, I say, ‘I don't know. I couldn't even guess. Maybe they just wanted to discover new worlds?'

Eckhart nods. ‘James and Alice often talked about wanting to change how we looked at the universe. With the gate, they considered themselves on the verge of great discoveries. James often talked with me about the possibilities. Of maybe finding a new direction for chemistry and physics, or new cures for diseases.'

‘Maybe they wanted to discover a way for everyone to live like Citizens?' I blurt out, then wonder where such a strange comment had come from. I'd spent so long wanting to become a Citizen, I hadn't ever entertained the thought of wishing society would change instead of me.

‘Of course!' Eckhart exclaims. ‘Improving the human condition for all is what we are about at Helios. Considering the effects minute leaks from the shadow biosphere had on human genetics, the possibilities are there for great advancements in the genetic science arena. And now, after studying their work, I have the appropriate measures in place for you to inherit their legacy and help realise their dream.'

He nods to the trick box. ‘No threader in the past has been able to open that, but you did it in under a minute. I think your parents passed on a genetic memory to you. An instinctual feel for how their work was constructed.' He gives me a crooked smile. ‘You're the miracle I've been waiting for, Josie.'

I briefly debate confessing about my own puzzle-chest, then dismiss the idea. I'd thought its construction had been my own creation, but now I've discovered maybe it was something else. Maybe it was a memory my parents gave me. The design of it a fragment of my childhood, a final gift from them.

We say nothing more as we listen to the sounds of the party below, the hum of conversation drifting around us. A light wind tosses my hair about and I tuck the strands behind my ears.

‘It has been my dream for the past twenty years to see that project revived,' Eckhart says finally, breaking the silence. ‘And with this being my last year as director of the Helios Academy, finding
you
has made me sure I can succeed now.' He lowers his cigar. ‘That we can succeed and realise your parents' dream.'

‘I'm not sure.' I don't know how to explain the dark river of terror trickling through me at the idea of working on the project that broke my parents. Why Alice thought the only peace she could find was at the bottom of a river, why James never told me about his own talent. I reach for stark honesty in an attempt to explain why there's no way I can help Eckhart with the Ciliary Gate. I'll do anything else he asks. But not this.

‘James never wanted me to follow in his footsteps,' I say in a halting voice. ‘He wouldn't want me to do this. Alice wouldn't want me to either.'

Then words fail me and I stare at my feet miserably. If Eckhart pushed, I'm not sure what I'd do. What I'd say. Confusion courses through me, misery and expensive champagne churning in my stomach. This is what I've wanted for so long: to be at a place that respects my talents. A place that can offer me opportunities. But now the cost is suddenly steep and I'm not sure about Helios anymore. A sly thought pops into my head, that there are other corps out there, ones that won't ask such a thing from me.

Tensing, I look up and see Eckhart watching me, puffing his cigar. Then he says, ‘You seem worried, Josie. I understand. It would be dangerous, yes. But I can't think for a moment your parents wouldn't be proud of you for finishing their work.'

‘They wouldn't be proud,' I find the courage to say. After all, this is the man who holds my future in his hands. ‘They wouldn't want me to do it, I know.'

Eckhart heaves a deep sigh, but before he can say anything further, there's a click behind us. I turn to see a man join us on the balcony. So much has happened over the weeks that it takes me a second to recognise Allen Schmidt, the lawyer who first talked to me in the hospital. When he sees me, he smiles, showing off his oversized teeth.