People in Season by Simon Fay Page A

there’s acid in his voice as he makes the accusation. By the unmoving shape of her features, you wouldn’t know she’s been taken off guard. In fact, there’s a twinkle of amusement in the way she sets her glass down that urges him to go on. ‘Ava O’Dwyer. Writer at ChatterFive. A voice for young women who want to care about the world and look good while doing it. My solicitor would not be too happy if he knew we were here together.’
    ‘You know more about me than I do about you.’ Ava is relieved more than anything. She won’t need to twist his arm to make him talk.
    ‘I doubt that.’
    ‘You shouldn’t be so suspicious. Maybe I’d like to write a nice article on you. Something that will make everyone see what an upstanding member of society you are.’
    ‘It’d be a lot easier to write a damning one.’
    ‘Alistair,’ she says. If James was a lump of clay, this name feels like a finished sculpture in her hands. She moves her fingers along it’s edges. ‘Alistair, Alistair, Alistair. How does it feel being UPD?’
    ‘You tell me,’ he stretches in the seat, challenging her, but lets out an amused sigh when she doesn’t answer him and cracks an ice-cube between his teeth. ‘They say it doesn’t feel like anything. That’s where the name comes from isn’t it? The UPD live in a world not connected to anyone. Sounds terribly lonely. Me, I just know what I want, when I want it and how to get it. If other people want to make all of that more complicated for themselves then that’s their problem.’
    ‘They seem to be making it a problem for the UPD of late. It isn’t so different to any other trend, really, is it? One minute they’re in, the next minute they’re out.’
    ‘The law,’ Alistair sneers. ‘Social Agents. Career bureaucrats who invented jobs for themselves to get a good pension. They’re as bad as the taxi alliance. Men getting paid to sleep at computers that beep when something goes wrong.’
    ‘I don’t like it either,’ Ava says this casually, but she’s aware of the weight the admission might have. ‘There’s a social agent in our newsroom.’
    ‘That’s a tricky situation,’ the doctor says, more concerned for himself than for her.
    ‘He’s an idiot. He wears a suit that looks like it was handed down to him from his brother and stutters through everything he has to say. If these are the kind of people we have running the country we might as well sink the whole thing now.’
    ‘No class,’ Alistair opens his hand in understanding. ‘What will you do about him?’
    ‘Do?’ her skin crinkles. ‘Why would I care if I get selected for processing?’
    ‘We’re untouched, remember?’
    ‘I’m not untouched. And anyway, I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger. It’s pathetic, really.’
    Alistair hums, ‘If you were untouched, and you didn’t want to be processed, being seen with me could be very bad for the both of us.’
    At first, she sees everything that’s going to happen pulled away. Like a ghostly force has ripped her from beneath the sheets of their bed, she feels them slip over her naked skin as Alistair and the room shrink into nothingness. But it doesn’t make sense. She knows that Alistair doesn’t care about the social agent, that he’s testing her again, moving away to make her come toward him. Her response is neither a step forward or a step back, but a simple cock of the head. He laughs at this and they consider each other for a time, a mirror looking into a mirror, deep and empty.
    ‘If you did write anything bad about me, I could make a lot of trouble for you.’
    ‘That’s probably true,’ she agrees. ‘So, what are we going to do, Alistair?’
    ‘Who knows?’ he tilts his glass to watch the ice slide around. ‘I suppose we’ll get out of here.’
    Standing, he watches as she fixes her dress, and she smiles back, enjoying the feel of his gaze. It’s like she’s being eaten. Once again he guides her with his hand at her