Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“I had a drill instructor like you once,” said Elsbet to Olivia.

“Yeh?”

“He was a miserable arsehole as well.”

“That’s not very nice…” said Pew, confused.

Olivia laughed. “Leave her be. She’s all right.”

“You are a soldier,” nodded Kwame, understanding.

“Yeah. You?”

“Once.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.”

Pew spoke up. “Olivia was kind of a soldier too…”

Elsbet looked at Olivia. “That true?”

“Coroner Corps. We killed dead people.” She looked round at everyone else. “So the rest of you were locked in as well, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anybody know why yet?”

“I’ve heard nothing,” said Iokan.

“Where’s Liss?” asked Pew.

“Who’s Liss?” asked Elsbet.

“The other member of the group… ah,” said Iokan, realising something.

The door opened. Veofol and I entered the room and sat down in the circle. “Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late. I imagine you’re all wondering what was going on last night…”

“You locked us up!” exclaimed Olivia.

“I’m afraid we had to lock down the centre.”

“You had us in there for six hours!”

“There was a security alert. I’m sorry, but we didn’t have a choice.”

“Security alert? What bloody security alert?”

“Perhaps we should wait for Liss?” said Kwame.

“She won’t be joining us,” I said.

“You’re not answering my question!” said Olivia.

Iokan sat forward. “It was Liss, wasn’t it?”

“What?” asked Kwame.

“Liss was the security alert. Or else she’d be here,” said Iokan.

“She was involved, yes,” I said.

“Was she hurt?” asked Pew.

“I can’t talk about the details, but she wasn’t hurt.”

Iokan’s look drifted as he analysed the situation. “No… if she’d been killed or injured, you’d have told us.” He snapped his look back on me. “She caused the alert. Didn’t she?”

“Well…” I sighed. I’d been hoping to defer this discussion, but that clearly wasn’t going to be enough. “I suppose you deserve to know. Liss left the centre without permission.”

“What…?” said Kwame.

“You mean she escaped?” asked Iokan.

“That’s not the word I’d use,” I said.

“How the bloody hell could Liss escape?” asked Olivia.

“I take it she’s not what she seemed to be,” said Iokan.

“As far as we can tell, she was something like a police officer. She was investigating the genocide on her world,” I said.

“She thinks it was done by people from another universe?”

“That may be the case, yes.”

“And where is she now?” asked Kwame.

“In custody. Security are interviewing her. That’s really all I know.”

Liss wore the shapeless paper overalls given to prisoners, re-issued every day so nothing could be hidden in them; they were also designed to fall apart if the wearer started doing anything stressful (like escaping), which dissuaded most people from attempting to break out.

She slumped into the chair opposite me, and the AI warder, wearing one of the standard robot shells, chained her to the table. She didn’t look at me; she kept her eyes down, pretending disinterest.

“She’s secure,” said the warder, though not to me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to chain her legs as well?” I asked. It didn’t get the smile from Liss I was hoping for. The warder looked down at me through artificial eyes.

“If you have any difficulties, hit the panic button.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know.”

It left us. The AI warder was probably filling the role as part of the policy to encourage humans and AIs to get to know each other better. Most of the others were human, and would have worn power armour, but even so, they were more like concierges than jailers. Liss would have been treated well. But people like complaining, so I thought I’d give her the chance.

“How have they been treating you?”

She didn’t reply.

“Liss. Hi? It’s me. Asha?”

She flicked a look up at me for a moment, but that was all.

“They tell me they’ve been questioning you.”

No answer.

“They didn’t tell me what you said, but they seem to be satisfied you’re not a threat. They might let you come back to the centre.”

Still no answer. Still no eye contact.

“Olivia doesn’t believe you’ve been arrested. She doesn’t think you’ve got it in you.”

That got a derisive snort.

“None of us knows who you really are, do we?”

“No.”

“Well. You didn’t treat Mr. Dorje very well, did you? Do you remember? The man you attacked?”

“He’s a criminal.”

“Liss, he smuggles in fruit . He’ll be prosecuted for that and he might lose his business licence. Do you really think it merits a beating?”

“Still a criminal.”

“Did you know he comes from the same world as me?”

She looked up, and our eyes met.

“His whole country was destroyed. When we did a census after the evacuation, it turned out he was the only one left who came from there. Take a look at this…”

I pulled out a pad and showed her images of old Tibet: monasteries in high mountains, prayer flags in the breeze, smiling faces of children, monks in orange robes.

“That’s all gone now. They were starving at the end. With the glaciers all gone there was hardly any water for their crops. Then their cities were nuked when India and China had their war. And now he’s the only one left.”

Liss received this like a burden on her shoulders.

“He’s like a lot of people here. He could have gone on to the colony world, but he stayed on Hub instead. That bar of his? That’s the last piece of Tibet anywhere. It’s unique. I’ve been in there a few times. He’s got a terrible sense of humour, but he’s so proud of that place. And now he might lose it.”

I showed images of Dawa Dorje in his bar. Some publicity shots: prayer flags on the roof, the traditional interior. Dawa looking so obviously proud. And one that Bell had taken of Dawa posing with me, friendly grin all over his face. Liss closed her eyes; I hoped I wasn’t piling on the guilt too much, but she needed to know what she’d done.

“This is us, Liss. This is who you were investigating. This is Hub. Most of the people here came from dying worlds. If anyone in the multiverse is going to sympathise with you, it’s people like this.”

She put a hand to her eyes. Were those tears? Yes. She wiped them back.

“Do you want me to talk to him? I think he’ll understand if I explain.”

Liss couldn’t stop the tears this time, and I couldn’t cross the barrier to comfort her. “I’m sorry…” she said. “I’m not like this…” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and of course the paper tore as soon as it got wet.

“We’re all like this,” I said. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No. It’s rubbish. There’s no way that woman could fool a turnip!”

“She fooled us all, Olivia,” I said.

“She might have fooled you …”

“She did, for a while.”

“Do you really think she’s some kind of master criminal or something?”

“No. Quite the opposite, I expect.”

“All right, let’s say for a moment you’re not talking rubbish. So you’re seriously telling me you found her on a dead planet with corpses all over the place—”

“Um. It wasn’t corpses,” said Pew.

“Fine. Piles of ash everywhere, same thing. You find this woman still living there, still going about her business as though nothing’s happened, and you didn’t check? You didn’t look in her head with your doohickeys and your whatnots to see if she had anything to do with it?”