Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“What for?”

“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The security service was sweeping the slum for drug users and perverts. How happy they must have been to find her. Him.”

“And you?”

“Yes. And me. They took me, put me in a cell. That cell. In the dream.” He stepped back from the screen, his hands shaking. “They gave me a choice, because of my military record. I betrayed him. Mudiwa… Mudiwa would not have been seen again.”

“You mean they killed him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…”

“Barbaric. Yes. I spoke out against the activities of the security services when I was in parliament, but the government barely restrained them at all. They thought it would make them popular. With some people, it did. No one wanted to defend queers.”

“How do you feel about it?”

He shook his head helplessly. “He disgusts me! But… I betrayed him. I left him in Matongu. He became an addict. And then I let the security service have him…” He could say no more.

“So what did you do next?”

He indicated the next few years on the second column: a few scattered memories but very little of any detail. “I do not know. The memories from here… I am not sure what belongs in the second column. There is not much.”

“Were you still in Zimbabwe?”

“No. I kept moving. Many towns. Many jobs. Until 154 — I remember receiving a letter. I do not know how it reached me. I was recalled to the military. I received an exo-skeletal arm support so I could do my job, the finest Chifunyikan technology. We were still short of trained engineers. They put me to work in… I do not know. An installation. I do not remember much.”

“We’re getting close to the end, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” He indicated the first column. “My party won the election in 155. They made me minister of sport — they did not want me getting in the way of real government. I found a way to gain promotion anyway. I proposed a world passball tournament, which had not happened since before the Great War. I almost had agreement to fix a date when they promoted me to stop it getting too far. So in 156, I was made Minister of Culture. I was visiting Chiwikuru when the nuclear bomb went off in Zimbabwe… and you know what happened after that.”

“Escalation.”

“Yes. The presidency was mine but I had no choice in my actions. Jendayi and the children died. I had to defend the nation. It passed beyond my control… and then there was the bunker. And the final war.”

“What about the second column?”

“I do not know. There is nothing I can put there.”

“Can I make a suggestion? You said you were sent to an installation, in the second column. Was that installation the bunker?”

He took a moment to reply. Another thing he didn’t want to be true.

“It is possible. But it could have been anywhere…”

“I think, given you have both these sets of memories, it’s the most likely thing.”

“But I remember nothing!”

“Okay. What about the first column?”

He pointed out the final weeks before the end of the list. “Here is when I armed the device. Here is when the war took place. We heard from the last survivors on the surface here. One of my aides killed himself here. A general did the same here. We waited before we went into the hibernation units. We waited as long as we could. And then we laid down and slept.”

“But there are things missing, aren’t there? At the end?”

“Perhaps. But I do not know what they are…”

There was nothing more on the list. I took a step back. “Well. This is fantastic work… and very brave.”

“It is not bravery.”

“No, seriously, Kwame, I know you didn’t want to do this. I know it was difficult.”

“I…” He really didn’t know how to take a compliment and seemed at a loss.

“But I think there’s still more to do,” I said.

“I do not know what else I can do… this is all I can remember.”

“Well, more might come out over time. This all came in something of a rush, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“But maybe…”

He waited for me as an idea sparked in my head.

“Maybe we can jog your memory a little more. This all started when you saw your dream. Maybe we can put you back there and see what happens…”

He was shocked. “Go back? To my world? That is death!”

“Not for real. We have some very large rooms here that we don’t use. And we can model those rooms exactly the same way you can model yours.”

“I do not understand.”

“We can make a simulation of the bunker. Some of it, anyway. I think we have the schematics on record. I’ll need to get some people in but it’s doable. What do you think?”

He stepped back.

“You want me to go… back there.”

“The bunker’s the biggest gap on this list. I don’t know if it’ll work but it’s worth a try.”

He couldn’t find the words. He was dreading it.

“Or if you’re not ready we can…”

“No!” He found his backbone quite suddenly. “I must. I must know!”

I nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll get everything started.”

It was no surprise that Olivia was angry; I’d long since given up being surprised at how she continually generated new bitterness. But on this occasion, I found myself thinking she had a point.

She came in with her ICT representation already prepared, inconveniently written in pen and ink. She was never keen on using keyboards — she said she was no one’s secretary and never had been so why should she learn to type? This made sense from the point of view of gender relations and historical typing machines, but was more likely a way to avoid any therapy that required her to write something down.

So I had to read the representation she thrust in front of me on a sheet of paper, scrawled in a language that only she and the computer that translated it for me knew. It could be summarised as a demand for the IU to prosecute itself, followed by a number of surly complaints that such a thing would never happen so why should she even bother to ask.

“Okay. I’ll pass that on,” I said.

“Won’t do any good.”

“I’d like to discuss it, if you don’t mind.”

“There’s nothing to bloody discuss. Just give it to them. They can use it as cigarette papers if they want.”

“Why do you feel so hostile about this?”

“Because you left us there to die! And now you come along and you say you’re going to do what’s right and you’re not going to do anything of the sort!”

I nodded. This was going to be difficult; I didn’t have anything new to give her.

“Well, I’ll certainly pass it on. And I do hope they do something about it…”

“They won’t. They won’t do anything for poor old Pew either, and his troubles are a damn sight worse than mine…”

“Actually, that’s a good point. It might be worth connecting the two cases, given that they’re both about negligence…”

“And what good’s that going to do?”

“Even if you can’t get some prosecutions out of it, it might change IU policy.”

“What rubbish.”

“We can’t go back and save your world, but it might save another species in the future.”

“And what good’s that to me? Or Pew?”

“You’re right. No good at all. So what do you want? I mean, what’s your goal here?”

“I want someone to pay for letting us all die.”

“Okay. But who’s ‘us’?”

“My species, who do you bloody think?”

“I mean something a little more concrete. If you keep it vague, they could just say they had no proof of survivors and had to follow health and safety procedures—”