I turn back to Spike. She looks me calmly and clearly in the eye, and into my head, as though she were speaking, which she isn’t, she says, ‘Will you help me to escape?’
I said, ‘Did I just hear you?’ She nods. Then I say, out loud, ‘Yes.’
‘Yes what?’ says Manfred, irritably.
‘Yes, we’re restarting the interview.’
I turn back, fully focused on those green liquid-crystal eyes. ‘So tell me about Planet Blue. Tell me everything.’
She says, ‘This new world weighs a yatto-gram …
‘When we approached it, polar-swirled, white-whirled, diamond-blue, routed by rivers, we found a world still forming. There was evidence that carbon had once been the dominant gas, and after that methane and, finally, oxygen, thanks to the intervention of cynobacteria. Oxygen creates a planet receptive to our forms of life.
‘Like Orbus, Planet Blue is made up of land and sea areas, with high mountain ranges and what appear to be frozen regions. We have landed two roving probes on the planet and expect a steady supply of data over the coming months.
‘As you will see from the photographs, the planet is abundantly forested. Insect life, marine life and mammals are evident. It is strikingly similar to our own planet, sixty-five million years ago, with the exception of the dinosaurs, of which we have no record on Orbus.’
‘Ask her when we can start relocating,’ shouted Manfred. ‘We want the human story.’
‘The answer to that question,’ said Spike, carefully, ‘is that we can leave tomorrow. There is oxygen, water, food and every other resource.’
‘And there are monsters,’ I said.
‘Don’t call them that,’ barked Manfred, two strands of his impeccable hair now loose over his violet eyes. ‘Do you want to put people off?’
‘Would you like to live on Planet Blue?’ I asked Spike.
‘I would like to be part of the next exploratory mission, yes.’
‘How do you feel about being dismantled? It’s a kind of death, isn’t it?’
‘I think of it as recycling, which is what Nature does all the time. The natural world is abundant and extravagant, but nothing is wasted. The only waste in the Cosmos comes from human beings.’
‘We can cut it right there,’ said Manfred.
The alarm was going off. It was a red-alert pollution warning. The building would now seal itself and the air-conditioning would pump in pure oxygen.
‘I hate those selfish, greedy, bigoted bastards,’ said Manfred, getting up and coming over. ‘What right have they to do this to us?’
‘I presume you mean the Caliphate and the Pact?’
‘Who else is destabilizing the world?’
‘Well, we’ve done a pretty good job of it for as long as anyone can remember,’ I say, knowing this is the wrong answer.
‘Have you never heard of global responsibility? We are all of us on the planet obliged to tend the planet.’
I don’t bother to answer. We made ourselves rich polluting the rest of the world, and now the rest of the world is polluting us.
‘Carbon dioxide is five hundred and fifty parts per million,’ said Spike. ‘It’s too late.’
‘It is never too late!’ said Manfred. ‘That’s delusional, depressive and anti-science. We have the best weather-shield in the world. We have slowed global warming. We have stabilized emissions. We have drained rising sea levels, we have replanted forests, we have synthesized food, ending centuries of harmful farming practices,’ he glares at me again, ‘we have neutralized acid rain, we have permanent refrigeration around the ice-caps, we no longer use oil, gasoline or petroleum derivatives. What more do you want?’
‘I don’t want anything,’ said Spike, calmly. ‘I am a robot.’
‘If those out-of-control lunatics in the rest of the world would just get the message –’
‘That when we destabilized the planet it was in the name of progress and economic growth. Now that they’re doing it, it’s selfish and it’s suicide.’
‘You think you’re so smart, don’t you?’ said Manfred. ‘But I live in the real world. We did what we did, sure, and when all the scientific data was in place –’
‘When it was too late.’
Manfred ignored me, the way you do a street preacher, ‘– then we took full responsibility, and worked to put it right. Meanwhile, those backward sky-god worshippers and those stupid little slant-eyed clones – those guys are crippling us.’
‘Well, Manfred, you can always put your name down for Planet Blue.’
‘It’ll be decades before that’s viable.’
‘We could go now,’ said Spike.
Manfred started waving his arms like a wind turbine. ‘We need infrastructure, buildings, services. If I’m going to live on a different planet, I want to do it properly. I want shops and hospitals. I’m not a pioneer. I like city life, like everyone likes city life. The Central Power believes that the biggest obstacle to mass migration will be setting up the infrastructure in time. We can’t go back to the Bog Ages.’
‘There won’t be enough time,’ said Spike. ‘Either you go or you don’t.’
‘I’m sorry, but that doesn’t accord with my brief,’ said Manfred, in a voice that ended the matter. He strode over to the window and looked down, frowning. ‘There’s red dust covering the place again. What the hell is that stuff?’
Manfred wasn’t interested in us any more, so I said to Spike, ‘What do you mean, just go?’
‘Orbus has a projected remaining lifespan of around fifty years. The planet will continue, of course, but it will no longer be hospitable to life as we know it. We can continue here for some time after that, cooling our cities, and using developing technology, but the future is not sustainable. Nor is there time to develop Planet Blue in the way that the Central Power desires. Human beings will have to begin again.’
‘With what?’
‘With a pristine planet and abundant natural resources. It might be possible to develop a hi-tech, low-impact society, making the best of our mistakes here, and beginning again differently.’
‘So it really is a second chance.’
‘I think so.’
‘Do people want to begin again? They imagine business as usual but with a barbecue on the beach at the end of the day. They think plasma buildings and genetic Fixing, but with better scenery and no foreigners.’
As the ALL-CLEAR sounded, the lab technicians came back in, and Manfred motioned for me to leave.
‘What time are you through here?’ he asked the men, as they sat down at their screens.
‘Maybe three or four hours, then we’ll run her down. It’ll take all night before her circuits are dead. We’ll send her for dismantling in the morning.’
Spike showed no emotion as she listened to this. Presumably she has no emotion to show.
‘All right,’ said Manfred. ‘We might want to film the last few flickers for the human content.’
‘I’ll come back later,’ I said.
‘No, you won’t,’ said Manfred. ‘You’re done here.’
Suddenly he stood still, listening to his Inner Voice from Central Command. He pointed at the Wall2WallTV and zapped it live. His face was excited. ‘They’ve got the Competition Countdown Winners!’
‘What winners? What competition?’ I said.
Manfred looked at me the way you look at a pre-packed sandwich you don’t want to eat. ‘Billie – are you always out of touch with real life or do I misjudge you?’
‘Manfred, I have been out all day dealing with paedophiles and parking meters – I haven’t got time for real life. Just tell me what’s happening!’
Spike leaned forward. ‘MORE-Life has sponsored a celebrity promotional trip to Planet Blue.’
Red carpet, spinning lights, big band, girls in bikinis throwing blow-up beach balls of Planet Blue into the audience. Down the lit-up centre-aisle crucifix comes Martin Moody, TV host to the stars. The audience goes wild. Moody Media is mega.
‘He is such a performer!’ says Manfred. ‘So real!’
Martin Moody lifts up his hands like a politician –
There were two questions … DRUM ROLL.
There were two answers … DRUM ROLL.
WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE NEW PLANET?
WHAT DOES THE NEW PLANET WEIGH?
TIE BREAKER: If you were in charge of Planet Blue, what would you do first? Tell us and Win!
WIN! And you could be one of the first to visit the new world for the weekend! Sponsored by MORE-Life, on-line on-land, the global company working for you.
Martin welcomes his first live guest. A thick-set man in blue jeans and a white T-shirt blows kisses at the audience. The audience cheers. Martin Moody steps forward – ‘Let’s welcome Derek!’
All right, Martin? My name’s Derek and I’m a cab driver, but my hobby is fuckin’ parrots.
And what do the parrots think of that, Derek? (Audience laughter.)
Aw, Martin, you know what I’m talking about! (Laughter.) I breed ’em, old-fashioned style – no cloning, just let ’em get on wiv it. I got a hundred and fifty, used to have three hundred and fifty. All in a fuckin’ aviary on the side of the front room so the wife can watch ’em while I’m out workin’. There won’t be no cabs on Planet Blue, not to start wiv anyway, so I’m gettin’ my own fuckin’ parrot business goin’, before they start all that fuckin’ licence-exotic-fuckin’-pet rubbish. I’m sayin’, No red tape on Planet Blue! (Audience: Go for it, Derek … Waves, leaves.)
MM comes forward: Vote Derek from Brighton if you say no red tape on Planet Blue. (Laughter.) Next guest, please!
Martin! (Kiss, kiss.) My name is Kingdom Come, and I have my own fashion label – I really think we could get some cool clothes going on Planet Blue.
You said in your tie-breaker that we need to start with retail?
That’s right. Shopping centres, people – it’s holistic. That’s why we call the malls shopping centres.
I never knew that …
Yeah, Martin, that’s why. (Nods wisely.) If people buy a brand they can trust, they feel better about themselves. (Audience: That’s right!) The first thing we gotta do on Planet Blue is get some reliable merchandise out there! I can do that – own-label Planet Blue clothes! (Waves, bows.)
Vote Kingdom Come if you want the centred shopping experience. Next guest, please.
Martin, I can’t believe I’m really here and not dreaming! My name is Mary McMurphy – Pink for short – and I’m a celebrity-chaser, so I’d like to think that on Planet Blue I can get a start-up going – y’know, a celebrity on-line type of thing? I mean, the stars are, well, they’re stars, aren’t they, like you see in the sky? It’s a cute connection. (Audience claps.)
But, Pink, there won’t be any celebrities on Planet Blue at first.
Y’know, that’s why we’ll need an on-line presence – it’ll be like a strong connection with where we’ve come from. People need strong connections. (Audience yaps approval.)
Vote Pink McMurphy for that celebrity connection – don’t fall over, Pink. Next guest, please.
Hello there, Martin. (Double handshake.) My name is Tim and I think that the very first thing we need to get right on Planet Blue, yes, the first and very, is the parking – I’m a traffic-management consultant …
Don’t be modest, Tim – you’re a bit of a guru, aren’t you?
I have my own radio show, Martin – Prime Time Parking (cheering) – where listeners can phone in with news of spaces and places, spots and slots. Without a doubt, parking is the number-one issue facing the world today – not for politicians, I admit, but for ordinary people like you and me. The first thing on our minds when we wake up is, Where am I going to park without getting a ticket? (Audience stomps and drums.)
Vote Tim if you want your own parking space on Planet Blue. Next guest.
My name is Nomad, and I represent all the people who don’t know why we’re here. (Audience silence.)
So, Nomad, if you don’t know why you’re here, why have you come? (Audience laughter.)
I’m frightened that the world is ending. I don’t want to die.
Thanks, Nomad, thanks for your views. (Nomad is escorted offstage.) I think we had a little hiccup there – but let’s move on. Celine …
Hi! HiHiHi! MynameisCeline. IrunaSpeedDatingService. Ispeakfast. It’sahabitofthejob. TheremightbepeopleonPlanetBlue (cough) needingtomeetYOU. (Applause, laughter.)
Celine, you said that we should get a dating service going as soon as we can – before we get any homes or roads or even retail – is that right?
’SrightMartin! Lovecomesfirst! (Audience whoops.)
Vote Celine if you think that love comes first …
Manfred switched the wall-screen blank. ‘Brilliant promotion. That will push the whole relocation to a new level.’
‘I thought we were starting with a Science Station?’
‘We are – but who cares about that? We need real people to keep the interest going. Scientists aren’t interesting.’
‘Thanks.’
‘It’s not personal.’
So when is this next mission, complete with Reality TV winner?’
‘Soon. No thanks to the attempted sabotage – but I suppose you don’t know about that either? The Resistance is back.’
‘Perhaps it never went away.’
Manfred said nothing for a moment. Then he said, ‘Perhaps knowledge is selective – what we know, what we don’t know. What we say we don’t know.’
‘Billie …’ It was Spike interrupting. ‘Thank you for the interview.’
She was speaking to break the moment. I smiled at her; she nodded.
Manfred got up and motioned me towards the door. We walked in silence through the corridors. As we stood waiting for the elevator, he said, ‘Billie, take a few days’ holiday. I would if I were you.’
‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
‘This is a sensitive time. If anything goes wrong, I don’t want it to go wrong from my department.’
‘Are you saying that I am the Wrong that should go?’
‘I’m saying take a few days’ holiday.’
The elevator doors opened. going up. Manfred stepped inside. The doors closed.
I waited. light. ping. going down.
On the streets everyone was wearing their pollution filters. Everyone had the glassy-eyed, good-looking look that is normal nowadays. Even in an air-mask people are concerned to look good. The State gives out masks on demand, but the smart people have their own designer versions.
There was a woman in front of me, fumbling with her mask, coughing. I went to help her, and she grabbed my hand, ‘Getting old,’ she said, and I wondered if I had misheard because we don’t use those words any more. We don’t need to use them: they are irrelevant to our experience.
‘Getting old,’ she said again. Then she pulled off her mask. Her eyes were bright and glittering, but her face was lined, worn, weathered, battered, purple-veined and liver-spotted, with a slot for a mouth, garishly coated with red lipstick.
I recoiled. I had never seen a living person look like this. I had seen archive footage of how we used to age, and I had seen some of the results of medical experiments, but in front of me, now, was a thing with skin like a lizard’s, like a stand-up handbag.
‘I am what you will become,’ she said. ‘I know you haven’t been Fixed.’
‘You don’t know anything!’ I said, angry, frightened.
She laughed. ‘Look at me. When I was your age, was I planning to wind up like this? No. I was political, like you. I thought we should take a stand, like you. And for the last twenty years I have only been able to go out on pollution days so that no one can see my face. If you saw my body, you’d throw up.’
She pulled back the sleeve of her coat. Her arm was bones and stretched flesh – brown, thin skin pulled over bluish, visible tendons. I looked away. One of the smart buildings was flashing one of the usual feel-go
od advertisements sponsored by MORE-Life. Kids, their parents and grandparents, all identically handsome, wearing the same dirt-free nano-clothes, picnicking in the State Park – Best Days of Your Life – For as Long as Your Life.
The old woman was laughing. She had no teeth.
I forced myself to look at her calmly. ‘Why are you talking to me like this?’
‘They know about you.’
‘Who knows about me?’
‘They know you faked your records.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘I’m telling you now. They know who you are.’
The woman pulled down her full-face mask and moved slowly away.
I stood quite still, like an animal that fears a predator. The red dust was blowing through the empty street.
As I stood, not knowing what to do, my phone started flashing Manfred’s code. I didn’t want to speak to him, but he can tell via satellite recognition exactly where I am. I have a personal co-ordinate, like everyone else, and anyone with the access code can access me, whether or not I would prefer to hide.
I take his call. His voice is rammed with anger. ‘The Robo sapiens has escaped!’
‘She’s not a Great Ape. What do you mean, escaped?’
‘You heard me. Did she give you any clues?’
‘No, of course not. I thought you were dismantling her.’
‘The techies went for a break, and when they came back she’d disappeared. She might contact you.’
‘She won’t contact me – why would she contact me?’
‘Her data shows that she has formed a connection with you.’
‘Well, I haven’t formed a connection with her. Manfred, I do not know what has happened to Spike.’
‘If she comes to you –’
‘She won’t come to me – she doesn’t know where to find me. She couldn’t access my data-chip while she was draining, she told me that herself.’
There is a pause. He knows this is true. He had a theory, now he’s not sure. I take my chance. ‘She’ll go to the Border. She must be defecting.’
‘Robots can’t defect. They aren’t made to think for themselves.’
‘This one was.’
Another pause. ‘The Border? You think so? Are you telling me something?’