awkward silence. Richards was clearly trying to think of something he could give her to do, a job to keep her busy.
‘That report,’ he said finally, ‘the Lady of Mercy bombings?’
Jen nodded. It had been an interesting case initially, a group of religious extremists planning to blow up a Hibernation centre. They were common targets, and well protected. Unfortunately for the group – and the twenty-two innocent civilians in the adjacent building – they managed to blow both themselves and their secret hideout to bits. It became a case no one wanted, the main players in the terrorist group dead, every lead as cold as the bodies in the morgue. Jen was left picking up the pieces, so to speak.
‘I’ll have it on your desk Wednesday morning,’ she replied.
‘Oh, and Logan – speak to Peter Callaghan, would you? I talked to him this morning but he didn’t seem himself.’ His eyes darted around in thought. ‘We’re going to need him to be pin-sharp when Penthouse goes to trial.’
Richards walked away, muttering something under his breath. He was, at his core, a good policeman. She respected him, but he could be an arse.
No mistake.
Chapter 12
Jen was back in her running gear, through security and out onto the street by early evening. Clock watching wasn’t her style, but the interrogation had left her feeling mentally exhausted. She couldn’t wait to be free of the place.
She glanced up at the tall glass building, home of Duality and various other agencies and departments. The Government had known the move towards Hibernation, or transition as it had become known, wouldn’t be easy. This building had been imagined as a kind of hub. The idea – an emphasis on communication and sharing – was sound enough, but departments sharing information? For the greater good? That never worked as well as it should, same building or not.
She ran, the evening chill ensuring a good pace, her feet beating out a reassuring rhythm. In the distance, Christmas lights and decorations reminded her the holiday season was looming. Not her favourite time of year. Above her, silver and red flashes of light cut across the sky, the latest transport for those who could afford it. She passed other runners and cyclists, many of them tuned into something, listening to music or the news. Jen preferred to be disconnected, to stay in the moment, to focus inward. Running was a form of meditation for her, of solitude, of being.
She cut across Fenchurch Street and paused. There was a Hibernation block ahead, but it wasn’t purpose-built like the one in Shepherd’s Bush. In the UK, population had reached one hundred million and Hibernation targets were aggressive. In the next three years, eighty million would join the Hibernation programme and Fenchurch was part of a new initiative to repurpose existing dwellings and speed up the process.
Jen considered her route and decided the possibility of streets free from traffic was too good to pass up. Even if it was a little eerie.
Perk of the job Jen, and by God, there aren’t many.
She passed through a checkpoint and ran the empty streets, glancing up at the shadowy outlines of sentry droids patrolling the layered corridors, their glowing red pulse on every floor. It was strange knowing that inside thousands of people were hibernating. Weird to think that in just over two months they would return, Beta year would become Alpha, life would resume and Fenchurch Street would be a bustling community once more. As she passed the centre’s main entrance, an armed droid approached. It was humanoid in form but featureless, its body moving in a smooth, yet menacing fashion. Jen saw her reflection in its black outer shell as it scanned her.
‘Clearance approved. Move along, Sergeant Logan.’ It retreated back into the shadows, guarding the sleepers. It was the same in other cities, towns and villages across the world. Hibernators were kept safe, casualties nonexistent.
She was about to resume
‘That report,’ he said finally, ‘the Lady of Mercy bombings?’
Jen nodded. It had been an interesting case initially, a group of religious extremists planning to blow up a Hibernation centre. They were common targets, and well protected. Unfortunately for the group – and the twenty-two innocent civilians in the adjacent building – they managed to blow both themselves and their secret hideout to bits. It became a case no one wanted, the main players in the terrorist group dead, every lead as cold as the bodies in the morgue. Jen was left picking up the pieces, so to speak.
‘I’ll have it on your desk Wednesday morning,’ she replied.
‘Oh, and Logan – speak to Peter Callaghan, would you? I talked to him this morning but he didn’t seem himself.’ His eyes darted around in thought. ‘We’re going to need him to be pin-sharp when Penthouse goes to trial.’
Richards walked away, muttering something under his breath. He was, at his core, a good policeman. She respected him, but he could be an arse.
No mistake.
Chapter 12
Jen was back in her running gear, through security and out onto the street by early evening. Clock watching wasn’t her style, but the interrogation had left her feeling mentally exhausted. She couldn’t wait to be free of the place.
She glanced up at the tall glass building, home of Duality and various other agencies and departments. The Government had known the move towards Hibernation, or transition as it had become known, wouldn’t be easy. This building had been imagined as a kind of hub. The idea – an emphasis on communication and sharing – was sound enough, but departments sharing information? For the greater good? That never worked as well as it should, same building or not.
She ran, the evening chill ensuring a good pace, her feet beating out a reassuring rhythm. In the distance, Christmas lights and decorations reminded her the holiday season was looming. Not her favourite time of year. Above her, silver and red flashes of light cut across the sky, the latest transport for those who could afford it. She passed other runners and cyclists, many of them tuned into something, listening to music or the news. Jen preferred to be disconnected, to stay in the moment, to focus inward. Running was a form of meditation for her, of solitude, of being.
She cut across Fenchurch Street and paused. There was a Hibernation block ahead, but it wasn’t purpose-built like the one in Shepherd’s Bush. In the UK, population had reached one hundred million and Hibernation targets were aggressive. In the next three years, eighty million would join the Hibernation programme and Fenchurch was part of a new initiative to repurpose existing dwellings and speed up the process.
Jen considered her route and decided the possibility of streets free from traffic was too good to pass up. Even if it was a little eerie.
Perk of the job Jen, and by God, there aren’t many.
She passed through a checkpoint and ran the empty streets, glancing up at the shadowy outlines of sentry droids patrolling the layered corridors, their glowing red pulse on every floor. It was strange knowing that inside thousands of people were hibernating. Weird to think that in just over two months they would return, Beta year would become Alpha, life would resume and Fenchurch Street would be a bustling community once more. As she passed the centre’s main entrance, an armed droid approached. It was humanoid in form but featureless, its body moving in a smooth, yet menacing fashion. Jen saw her reflection in its black outer shell as it scanned her.
‘Clearance approved. Move along, Sergeant Logan.’ It retreated back into the shadows, guarding the sleepers. It was the same in other cities, towns and villages across the world. Hibernators were kept safe, casualties nonexistent.
She was about to resume
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