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People no longer fear us. They are ready for change. They are ripe for a new way: a new faith beyond greed and materialism. “Thanks to you, Sam, humanity has taken its first steps towards perfection. Your people have begun to embrace the truth and realise their potential. You will be hailed as a Messiah when the new world order is ushered in to replace the old.” “Oh my God,” Carson said, “I’m such a fool.” He turned and fled. Behind him, unseen, Helena MacDonald smiled. Back in his hotel room, Carson slammed the door and engaged the lock. His mind was racing. He pulled his Tablet from his jacket pocket and unfolded it. The machine beeped and lit up. He placed it on the desktop, dragged out a small flow-form chair from beneath it and sat down. “Okay,” he said, typing a query line into the Tablet. “Get a grip. Think it through. It’s not a done deal. You can still expose them. Just look for the links; find the proof. It’s not too late.” Carson searched the news-net for treads. When the connections began to light up, he wished he’d remained ignorant. The reality was so much worse than he’d thought. The truth of it all scared him. Carson pulled his mobile and dialled Mallory’s extension at the newsroom. “Mall. They’ve fucked us,” he said when Mallory answered. “Sam? What the hell are you on about?” “Those post-organic, Machiavellian bastards played me. Everything they said was a lie.” “Sam, you’re not making any sense.” “It was all planned out.” “Sam,” Mallory snapped. “Stop. Breathe.” Carson took a deep breath; paused. “The elections,” he said, voice still strained, but less frantic. “They’re rigged. Each of the ministerial candidates has been infected. Mall, the Omni-ware virus has mutated. It’s crossed to the Sims and is bleeding into the human populace. We’re being replace —” “Carson,” Mallory said, cutting him off. “Do you know what you’re saying?” “Of course I do. We’ve got to warn —” “Do you have proof?” Mallory asked, interrupting him again. “’Cause without it you’re going to come off like a lunatic, Carson.” “Tell me about it,” Carson said and walked across the room to his Tablet. He keyed up his search results and began to transmit the data. “But check out what I’m sending you before you call the men in the white coats, okay?” “These are publicity shots of the three main electoral candidates.” “Take a look at the image files of Pearson, Hollis and Cartwright. Those are all from last week. Now cross-reference them to the archive footage. “You see it?” “No. What am I supposed to looking for?” Mallory asked. Confused. “I didn’t spot it right away either, but check their eyes.” “What about them?” “Mall, their eyes are violet.” “You’re telling me the basis for this rant is the colour of three politicians’ eyes?” “Yes, God damn it, Mall, don’t you see.” “In truth? No.” “They’re infected.” “And you know this how?” “Them.” “Them?” “Helena MacDonald; her father. They’re alive. They’re all alive. They’d left the camps before the bombs even left the bunkers. They’ve been manipulating us from the start.” “Sam, you’re being —” Mallory began. “Paranoid?” Carson interrupted. “No. No way. The connections are all there. They’re rubbing my nose in it.” “What connections? How have they manipulated us?” “They’re the ones who leaked those stories about the children in the camps. They knew it would play to the Government’s fears. They sowed those first seeds of unrest and discord; then engineered the Herod Act as an answer, though in truth, it was all just ammunition for bringing down the Government. “They selected me to be their messenger and orchestrated the fact-finding mission into the BCI. They knew exactly how the TGP would react to what we found. They wanted a knee-jerk reaction to the attack. They wanted the camps eradicated. Coombs was a pawn. He didn’t start the fight. His orders were in place well before we ever went in there. They just used him. They used us all.” “Carson —” “No. Listen. MacDonald as much as told me they infected Keemut; made him kill Coombs, provisionally to safeguard me as their messenger, but it also didn’t hurt their plans that the officer in charge had been killed during the mission. My articles have played out exactly as they wanted, as they anticipated they would. I feel like Judas: all I’m missing is the thirty pieces of silver.” “Sam, assuming this is all true, what do you want to do about it?” Mallory asked. “Let’s say we can prove everything you’ve just told me, what do we do?”
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