Dominions

30

30

- 30 -

The doors sealed and the lift descended. Rodin stood to one side, Paskia on the other. She looked over, a flicker of a smile, then down to her feet. He watched her hands, her stance. There was nowhere obvious to hide a weapon in the lift. There were none in her jacket.

She looked up again, and he saw movement. An arm, hand outstretched, reaching for him. He backed off, crouching, his own arms raised in defence.

Her hand faltered, then fell. Her brow furrowed, and she turned away, her face red.

“I‌…‌I’m sorry. Whatever I’ve done, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please forgive me, Terrell.”

Play along. “No, I should be apologising. Maybe‌…‌I don’t know, maybe I’m nervous.”

Play along.“Why would you be nervous around me?” Spoken quietly, as if to herself, but he caught the edge to it, the taunt.

Yet in the taunt, she’d let her guard slip. It was as much of an admission as he needed.

He didn’t answer. Only when the doors opened, and they stepped through‌—‌Paskia first‌—‌did Rodin ask where she wanted to go. She shrugged.

Rodin glanced round the entrance hall. The concierge was behind his desk, looking at a screen. The place was otherwise deserted, but he doubted she’d risk anything with even one witness.

“Somewhere neutral,” Paskia said. “Somewhere that holds no meaning‌…‌for either of us. Somewhere we can talk in private, but without being trapped.”

Somewhere she wouldn’t be disturbed, but with many escape routes. But she turned to him, waiting for a suggestion. She wants me to choose the site of my execution.

Somewhere she wouldn’t be disturbed, but with many escape routes.She wants me to choose the site of my execution.But space could work to his advantage as well.

“There’s a small park nearby,” he said. “Nothing grand. Five minutes’ walk.”

She nodded. “Five minutes. But can we walk in silence? I need to gather my thoughts.”

“Of course.”

They walked side by side, Rodin on high alert, confident he’d detect any attack with time to respond. He held his arms ready, tensed his legs with each step, and breathed steadily. But her head remained down, and they reached the park without incident.

There were a few others around, but the path they took, past the trees then across the open grassland, took them away from anyone else.

The sunlight was soft, the temperature warm. There was a slight breeze playing through the tops of the trees. Paskia kept her hands at her sides, but they twitched a great deal.

Eventually, she broke the silence. Without looking at him, she said, “I know this is an extremely personal question, and I mean no offence, but‌…‌have you ever undergone Correction?”

“Do you believe I have?”

She shrugged. “I understand you’ve had difficulties.”

“They involved Authority, but not Correction.” She must know of what happened the other day‌—‌Shae would surely have given her all relevant information. “Why do you ask?

“I thought‌—‌hoped‌—‌we might have shared ground. I thought you might appreciate what I’m going through. The scars‌…‌Tell me, when you received them, was your life in danger?”

That was blunt, not the kind of question a resident of the Dome would use. But a mercenary assessing a target would want all the information they could get.

“I prefer not to talk about my past. It’s not who I am now.”

“I understand.” She sounded disappointed. “I’d rather not talk about mine, but I feel that I must. It’s like a disease, gnawing away inside my mind. I shut my eyes, and I don’t know if…” Her head jerked up, and Rodin shifted to his back foot, ready for the blow. It never came. “Do you sleep well, or are you plagued by dreams?”

He coughed to stop the rising laugh. He’d heard something like this so often it had become almost cliche. Before he removed a target they pleaded, appealing to his better nature. They wondered aloud how someone who did what he did could possibly get through the night.

But maybe this was something Paskia struggled with. If she were new to the profession, the killings might be troubling her.

Regardless, he gave Paskia the answer he always gave. “I sleep well.” And he ignored the memories of his recent dreams.

“You’re fortunate,” she said. “I can’t recall the last time I wasn’t woken at least once in the night. At times I think they must be memories, but the things they show me‌…‌what the person in my dreams does makes me feel sick.” She swallowed, and her face was pale. “Sometimes I wonder if I should ever have been released from Correction.”

Rodin fought the urge to reach an arm round her shoulders, and once again reminded himself that she was an excellent actor. The inflections in her voice, her mannerisms, everything seemed genuine.

“You can’t understand Correction unless you’ve been through it,” she continued. “Not properly. All the videos and reports from Authority, all the articles; none of them do it justice. They portray it as a simple conveyor belt process, with lots of well-meaning talk in clean rooms. They make out like it’s a society within a society, so perfect that those who enter the Refuge have no option but to see the error of their ways.”

“And it is not like that?”

Another shrug. “Maybe for some it is. Maybe it was like that for me at first. But there’s more than talk. There are other treatments, things‌…‌things that would shock the rest of the Dome.”

“What kind of things?”

Paskia’s whole manner sagged, and she let out a sigh. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. Some of the dreams‌…‌I almost remember, but then it all slips back into the shadows.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shook her head. She raised an arm, tensing it, pulling her hand into a fist. But this only lasted a moment. She let her arm fall, and looked up as she continued speaking.

“You know how people who’ve come through Correction never talk about it? They say it’s all about turning a new leaf, turning your back on the past. But I’m not sure now. I think it’s because we can’t remember. It’s like a whole chunk of our lives are taken away. And it reaches further back, too. I can remember incidents from my childhood, and I’ve seen images to confirm them, but so much of my life is a blur.”

A thought struck Rodin. “You say your earlier memories were confirmed by evidence, but isn’t it possible that these images actually formed these memories? Maybe you were shown them so often that your mind simply accepted them as a part of your history?”

She stopped walking.

“You have undergone Correction.”

“No.”

She shook your head. “You can’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean it never happened.”

He snorted. “You seem very sure of that.”

“Because you question my memories. You question what others would simply accept. And unless you’re hiding your true feelings, you have no revulsion towards me. Because we’re the same. Even if you don’t believe it, the way you act, the way you respond‌—‌you’ve been in a Refuge. You’ve undergone Correction. I know it.”

Paskia waved her arms as she spoke, and her breath came fast. Rodin needed to calm her down.

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’m from another Dome. Kern’s more relaxed about things like this.”

She laughed, a delicate sound that softened her features. “No it’s not. You forget‌—‌I’ve lived elsewhere too. The way you respond, it’s not like a normal resident, and so you must have gone through some trauma. The only possibility is Correction. Either that, or you’re from somewhere else entirely.”

“Ridiculous! I’ve been here for a few days, before that Kern, and before that Ross.”

Was he protesting too hard? It didn’t matter, not when she knew the truth. But she was acting the part well, shaking her head, already discounting it as a possibility.

Was he protesting too hard?“I know.”

She said those words so softly, he barely heard them. And she turned her eyes, gazed off into the distance. Her shoulders shuddered.

“You know?”

She nodded. “When I first saw you, my memory stirred. At first I simply thought you reminded me of someone I knew when I was younger. But this person would have grown and changed. I most likely wouldn’t even recognise them now. At least, that’s what I told myself.”

“But then Sertio had us pose.” Rodin had no idea why he said that.

A giggle. “Can I admit something? I was excited to see you n***d. I know how that makes me sound, but it’s the truth. But there was something else, when Sertio had us touching. There was a feeling of safety, a feeling of belonging. Because we’d been intimate, me and this younger man, in body but also emotionally. I couldn’t recall details, but the memories were like a comforting fog that settled over me, warmed by your touch. And the heat from your skin started to burn off some of the fog.

“See, we did something, the two of us. Others were involved as well. We all believed strongly in‌…‌in something. But him most of all. That’s what first attracted me to him, maybe‌—‌his strength. Solid, dependable.

“But whatever we were involved in, Authority came down. We were caught together. I almost think I can remember screaming at them to stop hurting him. And then they dragged me off, and I never saw him again.”

She retreated into silence. They walked on, a slow pace, and Rodin didn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say.

“That second session‌…‌it brought back the pain,” she said quietly, like she didn’t want her voice to disturb the stillness. “I felt like I was responsible, that I’d let him down, or that I’d led Authority to us. So when Sertio had us hold one another, but asked me to dig my nails in, I‌…” Her voice trailed off, broken. She sniffed, and Rodin didn’t have to look at her face to know the tears flowed now.

“But I know you’d never hurt me,” she said, and she turned to Rodin. “I felt it, when Sertio had you push me away. I felt your reluctance. I tried to help, to push into your arm. I tried to make you dislike me, so that you’d push me away properly, because it was too painful.

“But you held on. You wouldn’t let me go. And it was at that point I knew who you were.”

She was shaking, wrapping the jacket around herself despite the warm sun.

Rodin waited.

“You’re going to tell me I’m mistaken. Maybe I am. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. If it is, I can either go mad or go along with it. Guess which option I’m going to take?” A nod. “There’s something I remember, a phrase you‌—‌he‌—‌would say. ‘What will be, will be. Don’t fight it, go with it.’ I’ll follow that advice. I’ll go with it.”

Rodin pictured the small room from his dream, the girl sitting on the opposite bench. But he couldn’t see her face. Besides, that was a dream, a figment of his imagination.

It wasn’t like he could trust Paskia’s memory. She had problems, had undergone Correction. She was delusional. She should probably get more treatment.

A thought raged through Rodin then, almost knocking him back with its ferocity. She didn’t need treatment. Society has done enough to her. Whatever happened, they tortured her, then removed her memory of it. And why? To preserve their precious Society. To become who they wanted her to be, not who she was.

She didn’t need treatment. Society has done enough to her. Whatever happened, they tortured her, then removed her memory of it. And why? To preserve their precious Society. To become who they wanted her to be, not who she was.It would have been kinder if they’d taken a blade to her throat.

He made no move, and she looked down. “I‌…‌I’ve said too much. I’m sorry. But please, don’t think any less of me because of what I’ve said. I’m‌…‌struggling. I hoped we’d be friends at least, but‌…‌I’m sorry.” She turned and walked away.

Rodin watched her go. Where was the attack? He waited for her to turn, or for those working with Paskia to rush in. But there was nothing. Only her hunched shoulders as she walked away, retreating fast. She never once glanced back, and soon she was gone from his sight.

Where was the attack?Had he misread things so badly?

Rodin didn’t return to Sertio’s. His meeting with Leopold was in an hour, and although he could reach the Councillor’s house in half that time, he needed to think.

He walked.

He tried to imagine what it must have been like for Paskia. He pictured her in a room, seated on one side of a desk, a couple of Authority agents on the other.

And then he imagined her in another, smaller room, with no furniture. She sat on the cold, hard floor, her thin dress doing nothing to prevent the warmth leeching from her skin. But she barely had the energy to shiver, and in his mind she curled up, sobbing even though she had no more tears left. He imagined her turning to the corners, her eyes vacant as a nightmare ran through her mind.

How could the Dome call itself civilised? They reacted with shock to the violence beyond the glass, but at least death in the districts was honest. When Rodin fulfilled a contract, the target died as quickly and as cleanly as possible. He didn’t lock the target away for years. He didn’t t*****e them, put them through a hell that made them question their very existence.

Death might be painful, but it wasn’t this living t*****e that Authority had forced onto Paskia.

Those in the Dome would never understand the districts anyway. They only saw the surface‌—‌the violence and death, the constant mistrust. They didn’t see how people like Genna struggled to make her district safe, fought to give her people peace of mind. They were blind to the daily lives of so many, working hard to provide for themselves and those around, struggling to ensure a better future for their offspring. They didn’t have the luxuries those in the Dome considered normal, and so they focused on what really mattered.

The people in the districts were free, in a way those in the Dome couldn’t comprehend. They thought for themselves. They weren’t trapped by social laws imposed from unseen forces above. There might be the constant risk of attack from those around them, but people in the districts didn’t have the constant threat of an insidious force like Authority.

Rodin forced his fists to unclench, felt the heat dissipate from his forearms. His lower face ached as he loosened the muscles in his jaw.

This place wasn’t good for him. The dreams had been a warning‌—‌he needed to get out.

And he could do that. He’d been under the glass three times before, and he’d returned each time. There were houses, and people who would take his money in exchange for safe passage. Not Dome money, but real money.

But there lay the problem‌—‌Rodin’s money was in the districts, and he could only access it from outside the glass. There was no way any of the gatekeepers would let him through on a promise‌—‌payment had to be up-front. Before, he’d brought enough across the glass to cover his return journey. But this time, he only had Dome money.

So he needed to complete this contract. He needed to remove Leopold.

He’d been walking wherever his feet took him, but now Rodin looked up. There was a turning ahead, and he read the street name‌—‌Bridge Street.

Close to where Leopold lived. At least he hadn’t been walking in circles. With all the thoughts tearing through his mind, at least his body knew what it was doing.

He pulled out his screen and checked the time. His meeting with the Councillor was in ten minutes‌—‌and it was disconcerting how the time had disappeared.

Rodin took in a breath, held it for a couple of seconds, then exhaled.

Ten minutes. Then he could finish this contract and get out of this place.