Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

Elsbet hadn’t spoken yet, and I hoped a little prodding would bring her into the group. “Elsbet. Do you have an opinion?”

She frowned. Something occurred to her, something she couldn’t quite articulate — but then it snapped into place. “She was an infiltrator.”

“Could you expand on that?”

“I don’t really know her…”

“Of course, but what do you mean by ‘infiltrator’?”

“Well… that’s what she did? Right? She pretended she was innocent, but she was running a covert operation. That’s… like espionage. I don’t know. I wasn’t here.”

Iokan gave me a significant look. He was no fool. He’d figured out the parallels to Elsbet’s own situation as fast as I had: someone hidden in the shell of an entirely different person. I decided to risk the obvious question.

“Is this something you had experience of, in your universe?”

“No. There was no way the machines could have got someone in with us.”

“And you never did the same to them?”

She gave me a reproaching look. “Do I look like I could imitate a machine?”

The group shared surreptitious glances. She didn’t notice.

“No, of course not,” said Iokan.

“Well, shut up about it then.”

“Is that all?” asked Kwame.

She looked back at him, confused at everyone’s sudden interest and covering it with aggression. “Yeah. Why, what else do you want?”

I decided it wasn’t the time to press her further. “Nothing,” I said. “Let’s move on.”

“So we knew the bad guys were from another universe. We researched everything the superbrains knew about that kinda stuff. Turns out all the ones who went into that field died young — lab accidents, mostly. None of them made it past twenty-five.”

“You think someone was suppressing the technology?”

“Hell, yeah. Someone didn’t want us seeing other universes. We could have done it, of course we could. All of the things the superbrains were doing, and they can’t go to other universes? That doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like going to another star system.”

“Did you find anything else?”

“There was enough in the research for us to set up detectors to see if anyone else came through. And the only bait we had left was me. The idea was to set up shop and make it obvious someone was still alive, and then… well, there were lots of things we could have done. We only did the undercover thing because you seemed friendly.”

“So when we turned up, you really thought it might have been us?”

“What else was I supposed to think?

“Okay. I can understand that. How did you do it?”

“Preparation. We set up an apartment, made it look lived in, created the electronic trail in an office and shops and everything. I had to have acting lessons as well.”

“How—?”

“Interactive software. I wasn’t very good. I ended up pretending to be someone from work.”

“I see…”

“There was this woman called Galts. She was so annoying… everyone in the office could do an impression of her, she was such an idiot. I shouldn’t talk like that about her, I mean she’s dead but… well, she was an idiot.”

“If it’s any consolation, we believed the performance.”

“Huh.”

“You fooled everyone. The clothes were a very nice touch as well. Perfect distraction.”

“That’s nice. Do I get an award?”

“We’re still looking at whether or not we can bring you back to the group.”

“Oh, great.”

“I think, in conclusion,” said Iokan, “We don’t know enough about Liss to really judge her.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Olivia.

“I believe, however, that she is acting from an honest wish to do good.”

“So you don’t think she is on a quest for revenge?” said Kwame.

Iokan looked at him. “She may be.”

“And you count that as ‘good’?”

“If that’s what needs to be done.”

“Is she coming back?” asked Pew.

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

“Is it even possible?” asked Kwame.

“It may be. How would you feel about that?”

“Huh. Bloody good riddance, that’s what I say,” said Olivia.

“You’re assuming she’s who you thought she was,” said Iokan. “What if she isn’t?’

“Then she can bloody well go to prison for messing us about.”

“Don’t you want to know what she was up to?”

“Couldn’t care less.”

“I want to know,” said Pew.

“And I also. I would like to have a very long talk with her,” said Kwame.

“Dirty old man,” said Olivia, getting an irritated look back in return.

“Olivia. Please,” I said. She huffed and folded her arms. “Elsbet? How would you feel if Liss returned?”

She was still submerged in her own worries. “I don’t know… why do you need to ask me?”

“You’re a member of the group.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. We’d value your opinion.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.

“Okay. Iokan?”

“Of course. I’d love to see her come back. I think she needs us. It’s a terrible strain to work undercover like that. She needs our support.”

“Do you want to come back?”

“Is there anywhere else to go?”

“Only prison. We’d like to have you back, if you’re willing to come.”

She sighed. “What do they think?”

“They’ve agreed to it. You’re one of them.”

“I’m not.”

“They’re the only people who’ve been through anything like what you’ve been through. I said this when we started the group: you’re not exactly the same, none of you are. But you all have more in common with each other than anyone else.”

She didn’t reply.

“So do you want me to put things in motion?”

Grudgingly, she nodded.

Liss waited in a holding cell while Security went through their procedures to decide whether or not they’d let her come back to us. I visited Dawa Dorje to explain what Liss had been through, and that she too was the last survivor of a dead nation. Dawa had, as a young man, harboured his own fruitless desire for revenge against those who destroyed Tibet, and withdrew his complaint against her. The Refugee Service offered generous compensation for the damage to his bar, and he was even allowed to keep his business licence on condition that he named his smuggling accomplices and agreed to thorough surveillance to prevent any relapse. Security were left with only the criminal charges to hold Liss on, but since psychiatric care was one of the prescribed sanctions for this sort of crime, it seemed likely she’d be back with the group fairly soon.

The summer went on at the centre. The colours of the forest grew richer while the rain dried up. The trees could cope, but Olivia wasn’t happy with the damage a couple of weeks of drought did to her garden. She spent ever more time among the shoots with a watering can, or plucking out the weeds that kept creeping up even when other plants were suffering.

The forecast for evacuations stayed quiet, though a new world had been added to the apocalypse watch: three commercial factions on the recently discovered world of Kreg were fighting a war that had been going on for centuries, and around which their entire economy revolved. They treated our emissaries with contempt, but were running out of resources to prosecute their pointless war. Their world looked grey and battered from space, the seas an oily poison. Even so, it might be decades before they finally faced up to the inevitable, and no one in the Refugee Service seriously expected an evacuation in the near future. I still had the time I needed to work with the group.