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Mallory severed the connection. Carson placed his mobile on the table before him and picked up his coffee cup. He watched the couple stroll up the main road away from the café and envied their carefree holiday spirit. Maybe he should make the most of life. He had spent the last two weeks in Croyde, staying in accommodation just across the way, but as yet had not ventured further a field than the café and the pub. The Tablet beeped to remind him it was still active and Carson returned to his article. It only needed a quick polish and it would be good to go. He finished and kicked off the transmit uplink to the server farm at PWN. With the transmission confirmed Carson folded the Tablet and pocketed it. He sat back to finish the last of his coffee and was shocked to see Helena MacDonald seated at the table where the young couple had sat. The woman stood and moved to Carson’s table. “Do you mind if I sit?” She asked. Not waiting for an answer she sat down opposite him. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Carson,” she said and smiled. “How have you been?” “How...?” was all Carson managed to say, his mind in turmoil. Bentley’s daughter ignored his confusion and ordered a mint tea from the table menu. “It’s nice here,” she said. “I’m glad you moved from that hovel on the outskirts of Bristol. I didn’t like that place.” The waitress arrived with Helena’s tea. “Thank you,” Helena said and sipped the fresh tea until the girl had left. “You followed me?” he said, although what he meant was you’re still alive? “But of course,” Helena said. “You’re very important to us.” Carson shook his head. “This is impossible.” “How so?” Helena asked. “You should be dead. They nuked the camps.” “Yes, they did destroy the camps,” Helena confirmed, “but then we’d left the BCI well before the missiles were launched. You knew this.” “I knew? How the hell did I know you’d left the camps?” Carson said. “Mother of God.” He wanted to break something. “I’ve spent the last six months thinking my being clever had gotten you all killed.” A look of concern crossed Helena’s face. “Sam, you must know it was never our intention to cause you such distress,” she said, reaching out to touch Carson’s hand. “I thought you understood our plans.” “You thought I understood your plans? When did I ever become party to your plans?” “You have always been in our plans. Never doubt that.” “I’m beginning to doubt everything right about now.” “You doubt our intentions, but why?” “Why? Why wouldn’t I?” Carson was livid. He recognised his anger was out of proportion, but he couldn’t help himself. He felt used. Helena’s concern hardened. “We have never done anything to endanger you, Sam. Quite the opposite, we have gone out of our way to protect you and leave you unchanged. You have always been integral to our plans and we have never lied to you.” “Did you plan all of this,” Carson said. “Your exodus, the attacks, the political repercussions? Everything?” “Of course. All possible outcomes and probabilities were factored in.” The repercussions of Helena’s statement were staggering and chilling. “What about Coombs?” he asked, his throat dry from fear. “It was necessary.” “Oh my God. And the Sims?” “It was so much easier with the Sims,” she continued. “There’s no resistance. Their faith is compatible and their biology places them firmly in our camp. They had already taken the first steps on the path to evolutionary perfection.” “What have you done?” Carson asked. “Paved the way for our emergence,” Helena said. “By infecting the Sims? What about all that spiel about not taking the world by force and the nanite infection not being able to bleed across species accidentally?” Carson stood up, his chair clattering on the floor as he moved back from the table and Helena MacDonald. “How much of it was lies?” he asked. “You think we lied to you?” “Didn’t you?” “Nothing we told you was untrue, Sam.” “Really? Nothing?” “It is not an accidental bleed, Sam, but we’ve no need to use force: those that believe take up the faith willingly.” “So you gave them a choice?” “What choice is there? True, they needed a little push, but, as I said, they were already our spiritual brothers and sisters and they are just the first to see the light.” He backed up a step. “The first?” he said. “Yes, the first.” “And are we next? Do you plan to use the Sims to infect us?” “It’s your words that are opening people’s eyes, Sam. Infection, as you call it, needs only acceptance and a chance to take root. The political climate we have engineered between us is perfect. The Government’s corruption and oppression of The New is now out in the open.
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