Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

I headed off towards the elevator but stopped at the door to the apartment next to mine, room 902. It would be unoccupied, turned upside-down if the occupants were dead but still in residence, and removed completely once the corpse was removed. This room, I knew, was vacant. And since most ninth-floorers seemed to have blue-Buicked in some form or another – Moody, Roscoe, Suzy Watson, Birgitta, Porter Lloyd – it seemed prudent to have a look inside. Unaccountably, I suddenly felt a nervous knot that sat low in my stomach. A portent, if you like. The same thing I’d felt when going to repo Mrs Tiffen.

My Omnikey turned easily in the lock and the door opened on well-oiled hinges. But it wasn’t unoccupied, it was abandoned: the blinds were down, the mattress rolled up and tied with a cord. There was no furniture, blankets, food or carpets. The only thing in the room was a large steamer trunk pushed against our shared wall, the sort of thing roving hibernators used when travelling away to Longsleep. Unusually, the lock was pre-Omnilock, which dated the trunk from before 1931. Not illegal to own, as it was pre-legislation, but unlawful to lock and unlock – a legal peculiarity.

I walked into the bathroom and looked around but there was nothing here, either, just a single toilet roll and two empty coffee mugs. I was just about to leave when something caught my eye. Folded on the edge of the sink was a face flannel. I pressed a finger against the material, and instead of being hard and dry as I expected, it was soft, yielding and damp . The room had been visited recently.

The strip-lights in the bathroom flickered and the Charles I’d been in the dream remembered something new: I was in a lab somewhere, the smell of ozone in the air, blue light flickering from cathode tubes, myriads of flickering lights, the hum of machinery. To my left was a large inverted copper cone, similar to the one that I’d seen through the window of the lab at HiberTech, when Goodnight warned me about curiosity and what it did to the cat. I felt the sharp tip of the cone against my temple, a searing pain, and then the image was gone and I was once more alone in the bathroom.

I sighed, then washed my face in the basin using the flannel, and once I had, a thought struck me: just what, precisely , had Aurora been doing in the Siddons this morning? I didn’t suppose it was solely to see me – and it also occurred to me that when we led the three nightwalkers out of the basement the previous morning there had been fresh snow on Aurora’s command car, yet the morning had been clear and bright. She’d been at the Siddons at least part of the night on both occasions. And since she didn’t sleep, she must have been here on business. HiberTech business.

Aurora was right: life in Sector Twelve is rarely what it seems.

It was just getting light when I went downstairs. Reception was empty, and a glance at the lobby thermometer revealed that the building was three and a half degrees up on the previous evening. It was usual to add heat prior to a cold snap, but adding too much too early could trigger an awakening, a false dawn. Heat management was considered more an art than a science. I hoped Lloyd knew what he was doing.

I walked into the dining room. Of the thirty or so tables, only four had been laid, each in a separate corner of the room.

‘Good morning,’ said Lloyd, who had a waiter’s apron tied around his waist. ‘Kip tight?’

‘Like a dormule. Tell me, Mr Lloyd, who is in room 902?’

A flicker of consternation crossed his features but it was soon gone.

‘It’s currently empty. We’re not at full capacity, so much the pity.’

‘Has it been used recently?’

‘Not to my knowledge. But I have many duties, and nearly all of them take me away from the front desk.’

‘May I ask you something you can’t repeat?’ I asked, suddenly having an idea.

‘Of course,’ he said.

‘I need extra food over and above Daily Requirements to bulk myself up. Would you know someone who might be able to assist, but with no questions asked?’

The porter nodded his head slowly.

‘Canned or powdered?’

‘Canned. Fruit, rice pudding, beans – that sort of thing.’

‘Risk and rarity quadruple the price tag,’ he said after a pause. ‘You’re not the only person hungry. Forty euros a can, ten per cent discount for twenty or more.’

It was ten times the Summer price, but I wasn’t in a position to dictate terms. I swiftly ordered a hundred cans, mixed contents. Thirty-six-hundred euros.

‘It may take a few days to arrange a wire,’ I said, pretending that I had the funds somewhere. I didn’t, of course. I barely had five hundred in cash. But it was a plan. Or rather, it was the start of a plan.

‘Listen,’ said Lloyd, ‘if you want to earn some food from me, I’ll pay four cans of Ambrosia Creamed Rice for every new guest you can recruit.’

‘Even winsomniacs?’

‘ Especially winsomniacs. I can bill their stay to the Winter Asylum Office. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

He smiled and we shook on it.

‘While we’re speaking privately,’ continued the porter, lowering his voice and shifting his weight uneasily, ‘I know about her.’

My heart missed a beat. Porters could always be bought – it was part of their job, pretty much – but continually keeping the information about Birgitta quiet would cost several busloads more than I could ever afford.

‘How long have you known?’ I asked.

‘About half an hour.’

‘You’ve been up to the ninth?’

‘No, she came down here.’

‘She did?’ I said, looking around. ‘Where is she now? Did you put her in the basement?’

‘Look, I know it’s none of my business,’ he said, ‘but can I offer you some advice of a fatherly nature?’

I swallowed nervously, visions of a declaration of disgust followed by an impossibly large bribe looming in my mind.

‘Go on, then.’

‘You seem a sensible person, but you must be out of your tiny mind to be bundling with Aurora, especially when you said you wouldn’t. What will the Chief say when she finds out?’

I breathed a sigh of relief. Birgitta was, for the moment at least, safe.

‘From yesterday?’ I said, thinking he was referring to my lie. ‘This is old news.’

‘No, just now. I’ve been portering a while and I can recognise a jaunty step when I see one. She also told me to give you a double breakfast on her account and wasn’t being subtle, so I’m not sure she’s intending it to be a secret for long.’

‘Nothing happened,’ I said, ‘she just dropped round to see how I was.’

‘The head of HiberTech Security? Dropping round to see if a new Deputy is okay? C’mon, Charlie. It doesn’t sound very plausible.’

He was right – it didn’t. Aurora was playing me off against Toccata; perhaps forcing me to come and work for her – and pissing off her other self in the process.

‘It’s okay,’ said Lloyd, laying a friendly hand on my shoulder. ‘If this gets out – and it will, mark my words – it’s not through me.’

I sighed. Sister Zygotia had once told me that lies begat lies: ‘You start off by one small lie, then have to tell a larger one to cover that and before you know it, your whole life falls apart and there is nowhere to go but a downward spiral of self-loathing, despondency and despair.’