The Prophecy Chapter 4

Marijam stuffed four old ripon tunics into the overnight case. She picked up the pretty pearl and gold jewellery box her aunt had given her. That, with other bits and pieces her aunt and grandmother had given her might be more useful as currency in the Z Zone than Terrestra credits, until she managed to get a false credit account.

She had briefly also thought about trying to make her way to the Citadel, where the Elders lived. She had heard rumours that they could be kind, and they would often help Normal Zoners who got in to some sort of trouble. But she had no idea how to get there. That would have meant delving into even more of the Hidden Information. At least she knew where the Z Zone was. Somehow, she thought, that was just as well. She deserved the poverty of the Z Zone more than the luxury of the Citadel.

She obstinately refused to let Louish help her with the packing. She said she wanted to get her thoughts straight about the Northern Lights Project. Louish had been taken in.

Neither of her parents mentioned Gabrizan’s disappearance again, nor how pale she looked. Oddly enough, over the last day or two, the nausea had all but disappeared. Just a hint of it now and then. Perhaps it was the shock.

Well, she was dressed smartly enough for a science project interview. She was wearing a  newer, plain tunic. She washed her hair carefully and some of the shine came back. She didn’t look too bad in the mirror, even though she still felt completely drained.

Better keep up appearances, she told herself.

The pearl necklace her grandmother left her bought her some Hidden Information. If anyone found out, she would probably have to go to prison for the rest of her life. She shuddered when she thought of her meeting with the Ambassador, as he called himself. She would have sworn he was actually a Z Zoner, but one who spent an awful lot of time in the Normal Zones. He’d been so easy to find, too. Well, she’d known all along that some of the other kids in her social group sometimes accessed Hidden Information just for a bit of a laugh.

But it was nothing to laugh about. What she found out sickened her. She was almost grateful to the authorities for keeping that sort of information hidden. She had just two choices. She could give birth to the baby. That would be painful and could even kill her. Or she could get rid of it. That wouldn’t be all that pleasant either and was just as risky.

Both meant disappearing into the Z Zone. No-one in the Normal Zones would help with either. She would go there to get the help of the Z Zoners in delivering her baby, not in getting rid of it. It was Gabrizan’s baby. This would forever change her way of life and there would be no going back.

Marijam shivered as she thought of the Z Zone. She had found out more about it from the Hidden Information. She had already known that people who could no longer live in ordinary society were sent there. Until she’d got the Hidden Information, though, she had not known that Z Zoners did not have enough food, light and clothing. She had not realised that they had few dataserves and that any technology they did have was years out of date. The only concession they had to modern Terrestran life was a completely normal diastic system. The population there was getting thinner - maybe one day it would die out altogether. Would it though? she asked herself. Wouldn’t there always be misfits who needed hiding away?  She flinched as she remembered what she had found out about birth control in the Z Zone. They had a full Stopes programme going on there. Not even Z Zoners got pregnant these days. But they also rarely made it to the hundred years and switch-off. They didn’t die of illness. They became tired, literally worn out, or they starved. They did die, the old way, and the average age for death was forty-five.

Marijam bit her lip when she remembered what it had been like getting that Hidden Information. No wonder they kept all of this from normal people. It was horrific.

Marijam looked around the room which had been hers for as long as she could remember. She had just a little more space in her bag. What else should she take? Then she saw it. Another gift from her grandmother. Oma had given it to her on her switch-off day. It was a book, a children’s picture book. Most stories were told in super-four vision these days, but this antique was beautiful. She found it hard to decipher the old-fashioned text.  She knew the story off by heart, though, and she loved the pictures. She quickly flicked through the finely detailed paintings of the tower leading up to the sky. She loved the puzzled expressions of the people who found that they could not understand each other after they had tried to reach God.

Marijam heard her parents in the entrance hall to the apartment.

‘Are you coming?’ called Louish.

‘You go ahead, I’ll catch you up later,’ replied Marijam, trying not to let her voice tremble. It was really scary to think that she would never see her parents again.

The vacuum doors closed. Marijam stuffed the book into her bag. She took one last look around her room.

‘I’m sorry, Mum, Dad,’ she whispered.  She thought about what might happen to her father after she had left. Would they allow him to carry on as a service head, if he couldn’t even deal with his own daughter? Just as well that he didn’t know why she had left.

Then she too walked out of the apartment.

The lifts to the surface had long queues to them. People chatted excitedly and jostled one another to get to the front of the queue. They won’t half feel dizzy, thought Marijam, when that real air hits them.

She decided it would be easier to get to the Z Zone across the top. The tunnels were so complicated underground. Many of them were blocked where roofs had caved in. The authorities had decided not to repair them. They didn’t particularly want Z Zoners mixing with ordinary people.

I hope they’re not going to spoil everything, she thought. It wasn’t going to be the same with everyone else sharing the outdoors. Oh, it wasn’t going to be the same without Gabrizan.

The lift stopped. A door had been set into the tube which went across the surface. People streamed out. Marijam enjoyed for a few seconds the thrill of breathing real air. But she was used to it, unlike the people around her. They looked dazed. Some clung on to pieces of rock. Others sat down on the ground. One or two were taking great gulps of air. Some medical workers walked about.

‘Don’t breathe too fast,’ they advised. ‘Don’t stay more than ten minutes. You’re not used to the changing temperatures or the natural mix of air.’

‘Isn’t this something?’ Marijam heard one woman say. ‘I’m so glad it’s happened in our life time.’

‘It’s a miracle,’ replied the man at her side.

Marijam put her hand to her tummy. I suppose this is a miracle as well, she thought. Only I think I’m off miracles.

Someone suddenly tapped her arm. She jumped.

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ said a too familiar voice.

Marijam turned to see Ponty Davidson. ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘though it makes you feel funny, doesn’t it?’ I hope he can’t see I’m already used to it, she thought.

‘Will you walk a little way with me?’ asked Ponty. His breathing became shallow.

‘I, er I think,’ stammered Marijam. ‘I think I need to go back in. I’ve already been out quite a while.’

She walked away from him, back towards the opening in the tube. She stopped at the entrance and turned to see what he was doing. He staggered a little and one of the medical workers came up to him. She watched him sit down as two of the medics now spoke to him. Then, his head was down between his knees. It was safe for her to go now. He would not see her.

She set off again. She went behind Ponty and the two medical workers. He was recovering. She must hurry. She quickened her step.

‘Marijam,’ she heard Ponty call. ‘Where are you going?’

She pretended not to hear. She walked faster and faster until she was almost running. The ground became rougher. She would have to be careful. But she didn’t stop until she could no longer hear the crowds. She turned once more to look. No one was following and most people seemed to be making their way back to the open tube.

She sat on a rock at the side of what was left of the road. She took out the map she had got from the Hidden Information. This was scary, oh so scary. I need to go south she thought. She looked up at the sun. It was high in the sky and straight ahead. One of the old twenty-third century roads could still just about be seen.

Well, this is it, she thought. She lifted her bag on to her back. She couldn’t walk too quickly across Terrestra’s broken surface. Yes, she was following the old E723 Super Highway. There were bumps and cracks everywhere and places where there was no road left, only a patch of mud. Sometimes the road had caved in completely and Marijam had to climb in and out of a huge hole.

You never know, she thought. This might hurt the baby and then there might not be a problem anymore. Then she felt ashamed of thinking that. After all, this was Gabrizan’s child who was growing inside her.

A couple of times she sat down to rest. She was able to use the mini compu to tell her the direction. She knew, though, that soon she would be in the area which was not mapped by Standard Information.

Then one time she sat down and pressed the button on the mini compu. The screen was completely blank.

That’s it then, she thought. I’m on my own now.

The sun was beginning to set. Marijam studied the map again. The Logan cave must be another couple of kilometres from here. Then she would be in the Z Zone.

Marijam felt as if her heart and her stomach were chasing each other as she trudged along those last two kilometres. Once she went into that cave, there would be no going back. She could still change her mind now and go home. Explain everything to her parents. Surely her father would find a way out? No. It would ruin his career as well. Better this way.

It was completely dark by the time she arrived at the cave. A faint pink glow came from the entrance. Marijam could hear a soft noise. Was it their old mechanical machinery? Were they managing better now that the surface air was breathable again?

Marijam followed the tunnel which led down underground. She could see where the pink glow came from. The pathway was lit with strange burning lights. She supposed it was some sort of gas. There had been nothing about that in the Hidden Information.

It was cold in the caves. The ground was uneven, not like the solid floors of the normal zones. It was mainly made of dirt, with some bits of natural rock here and there. She suddenly remembered her first climb to the surface with Gabrizan. The path to the exit had been just like this. A pain that was almost physical shot through her as she thought of Gabrizan. Then something else happened. Her womb seemed to contract. Then there was a real pain.

I’m going to lose it, she thought. I shouldn’t have done this.

The pain stopped almost immediately. There was a strange tickling sort of feeling, like tummy butterflies, but a little lower down.

‘You’re moving,’ Marijam whispered as she put her hand over her stomach.  Gabrizan’s child was moving. So this had been the right thing to do.

The noise of the machinery grew louder. Marijam could also hear people’s voices. Her heart started crashing into her ribs now.

‘Sorry, baby,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t want to scare you, but I’m terrified.’

Marijam heard a sudden movement at the side of her.

‘Hey, what’s this then?’ a gritty voice rasped.

A gloomy figure stepped into Marijam’s path. The smell was the worst. She found it hard not to vomit again. This was what the unwashed must smell like, something she had never experienced before.

‘What do you want, then, little rich girl?’ snarled the man, wiping his hand on the dirty torn tunic.

A second figure came forward out of the shadows. This time it was a younger man. He was just as dirty as the first, and his brown tunic was made of the same rough looking material. But he didn’t seem to smell quite so much. His face looked a bit kinder too.

Marijam could not move. She wanted to run, but she could not get her legs to do what  she asked them. Even if they had moved, she knew she would not be able to get far. She was too tired.

‘Well?’ asked the first man, grabbing Marijam’s arm so hard that she could already feel the bruise forming. ‘Why have you come here? Running away from something are you?’

‘Look, I’ve got some things you can have,’ stammered Marijam, pointing to her bag which was beginning to slip from her shoulders, ‘if you’ll let me stay.’

‘Go on then, get it open!’ shouted the first man, pulling the bag away from her and gesturing to the younger man.

The younger man took the bag and began to empty its contents on to the cave floor.

‘You won’t be needing those here,’ commented the older man, as the younger one piled up the few tunics she had brought with her.

‘No, you’ll be much too cold,’ said the younger man more kindly.

‘That’ll do!’ cried the other man. He snatched the jewellery box.

‘Hey, wait a minute, Franck!’ cried the younger man.  ‘Take a look at this.’ He was holding the picture book. His rough hands were thumbing through the pictures.

‘My God!’ replied Franck. He also now started pawing at the book. ‘Does this mean…?’

The younger man nodded.

Marijam wanted to scream out to him to be careful. How dare such a brute touch her precious book.

Franck’ face was white and there were now beads of sweat on his forehead.

‘Do you really think this can have happened to us?’ asked the younger man.

Marijam didn’t have time to think what this might all be about. The two men quickly bundled her things back into her bag.

‘Ianus, we’ll have to get her to the wise woman,’ hissed Franck.

‘Well, we’d better get a kartje,’ replied Ianus. ‘We can’t risk  anything happening to  her. She looks exhausted already. We can’t expect her to walk any further.’

‘Right,’ said Frank. ‘You sit down there, Miss. Ianus will be back soon.’

The smell was still quite disgusting, but Marijam felt a bit more comfortable now. They seemed to think she was something special. Goodness knows what that was all about, but it was helping. And she was tired. Oh, so very tired. She closed her eyes. She could hear Franck breathing, but he didn’t seem inclined to say anything. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her and frowning slightly.

Ianus came back a few minutes later. Then Marijam realised what a kartje was. It was something from the last century. A type of small cart which hovered a few inches off the ground. She didn’t think there were any of those left.  And she thought they had been called carrels. But then, this was the Z Zone. Anything could happen.

Ianus helped her into the small vehicle.

‘You’ll still have to hold on,’ he warned. ‘It can only keep about twenty centimetres off the ground, so it still goes up and down a bit’

Franck climbed in behind them with her bag. Ianus moved the controls, and soon they were rushing forward a little above the ground. There were some uncomfortable twists and turns and quite a few jolts where the ground suddenly dipped away or rose up.

Occasionally they passed groups of people who were working with their hands or on old pieces of machinery. They all wore the rough-looking tunics and had the same leathery skin. Some of them stopped their work and stared at Marijam.

‘Watch out! We’re on important business,’ Franck would call.

Ianus frowned at him.

‘We ought to keep quiet about her really,’ he said. ‘Make out that she’s nothing special. See what the old one says first.’

Marijam was beginning to feel very sleepy. This place was cold and uncomfortable. The people looked rough and it was clear that life was very hard for them. She wouldn’t have chosen to live here if she’d really had any choice. The thought of giving birth actually terrified her. If only she could have told her parents what had happened, or, better still, Gabrizan.

But she was beginning to feel safe. These two rough men seemed to accept her, seemed to have been waiting for her, almost. She had no idea why they thought she was important. But whatever it was, it was just helping her to be accepted and she thought she ought to be grateful.

The kartje stopped in front of a doorway which seemed to lead into a natural cave.

‘Old woman!’ called Ianus.

The door of the cave opened slowly. A woman stood in the frame. Her silver hair hung loosely over her tunic, almost reaching her waist. She peered at Marijam, a slight frown on her forehead.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘So you’re here. I see you have the Book. At last. Come, we have been expecting you.’

The old lady’s eyes pierced into hers. Marijam wanted to run away. But she knew that all she could do was follow the woman slowly towards the door. Ianus and Franck went to follow her. The old woman put out her hand up to stop them and shook her head. Ianus handed her Marijam’s bag.

Marijam shivered. But this time it was excitement, not fear.

The Prophecy Overground Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Kaleem tossed and turned. The backs of his eyes were burning. His bedclothes became damp with sweat. He was aware now and then of Maria coming into his room. Sometimes there were other people, people he didn’t know. He could hear them whispering but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He ached all over.

Maria or the house robot occasionally brought him drinks or soup. But he could barely swallow. He was hardly awake, anyway. And when he was, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

He could not understand anything his mother or any of the others said to him. His throat felt as if it was on fire if he tried to speak. It was an effort to move. Even allowing his eyes to follow something made his head throb. The gentlest light seemed to cut his head into pieces. He preferred to keep his eyes and his ears tightly shut.

Then he would sleep, though, and the dreams came. They were starkly real dreams, vivid and brightly coloured. They were full of people he had never met, but whom he had a sense of knowing well. Strange things happened, which he understood as he dreamt but made no sense when he awoke.

Then he started to dream the same dream over and over again. He was walking out of a tall, narrow building, on to a hillside covered with grass which looked artificially green. He could see children playing, picking daisies, and making chains with them. Then one after the other, the children would turn round. He felt afraid as they did so. He found that he was right to feel afraid. They were not children at all but very small adults with old wrinkled faces. One of these small people would take him by the hand and lead him into a tiny chapel, where a large book lay open. Candles burned at either side. The pages of the book were plain, but they soon filled themselves with writing. An invisible hand would tear out the page and throw it away, and then the next page would fill with words - words he couldn’t read, despite his new skills.

Always after this dream, he would wake up, pain searing through the whole of his body. Sleep, dreamless sleep, would have been the best option. But at that point, he did not want to go back to sleep. He feared having the dream again. It wasn’t so much the content  that scared him - although the ugly faces of the old children were alarming enough, - it was more that he always had the feeling that there was something he was not understanding, and that the dreams would carry on until he did.

Gradually, the other dreams became less strange. Only the one about the book and the children continued. He now knew what to expect with that one. As he dreamt, he tried to understand. Yet each time, he became more sure that he was missing a point and he really should know what was going on.

He slept a little less. He began to sip the drinks and eventually one day he managed a whole bowl of soup and stayed awake for most of the afternoon. Maria sat with him. For the first time in goodness knows how long, he had actually felt hungry.

‘The soup was good,’ he managed to say. This time his throat did not hurt and he was able to look around the room without the shooting pains in his head. ‘Is there any more?’Maria beamed Well, I’m glad you still appreciate my cooking,’ she said.

‘You really had us worried,’ she said, as he finished the second bowl of soup. She was looking serious again. ‘Razjosh thinks that this may have come from the outside. Or it may be some disease that has lurked around dormant, since before the poison cloud. That’s why the diastic monitor didn’t pick it up.’

‘Razjosh has been here?’ asked Kaleem.

‘Oh often,’ said Maria. ‘He’s very concerned about how you’re getting behind with the Peace Child programme.’

Kaleem could not fail to hear the edge in his mother’s voice.

‘He doesn’t seem at all concerned that here you are, struck down by some mystery illness, on a planet that has not known illness for over two hundred years. No, no, all he’s concerned with is whether you’ll be ready in time. In time for what I don’t know.’

After that first day, Kaleem was awake more and more often. The fever went away altogether, he started eating regular meals, and soon he was out of bed and able to walk a little around the apartment. He was still rather weak, and he certainly did not feel like working - not that Maria would have let him anyway. Nor did he want to know anything about what was happening in the outside world.

Then one morning he woke up, feeling completely normal. Another part of him, which had been away for a long time, seemed to have returned suddenly.

He jumped out of bed. It was just as if he’d never been ill at all. He bounded into the kitchen, where Maria was already instructing the house robot about breakfast.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You seem to be better.’

‘How long have I been ill?’ asked Kaleem.

‘Exactly seven weeks,’ replied his mother.

Seven weeks. Seven whole weeks. The time had gone so quickly!

Things seemed to gradually go back to normal after that. Razjosh appeared to him several times in the holograph. The Peace Child programme was started again. Kaleem had forgotten a lot of what he had learnt and much of it had to be repeated.

‘We need to get on,’ Razjosh said as he stood in holographic form by Kaleem’s workstation. ‘You have to complete at least one whole unit. We need to know that you’ll be fit if you’re needed. I’m getting older. I’ll soon not be able or want to travel anymore. And even Elders eventually have to face switch off.’

Kaleem could not believe what he had just heard.

‘Do you really mean I might have to leave Terrestra?’ he asked. ‘You mean go to another planet or even another part of the universe?’

‘Oh yes, you may have to travel,’ Razjosh said to  Kaleem. ‘There are people who still travel through the galaxies from Terrestra. We have scouts who keep an eye on others. But we go quietly. We do not want others to know of us. There would be little point in you learning all these skills if you weren’t to put them to use,’ said Razjosh. ‘You may have to negotiate for us one day.’

‘Have you …?’ Kaleem started.

‘Oh yes,’ said Razjosh. ‘How do you think we got rid of the poison cloud?’

Kaleem gasped.

‘That’s right,’ continued Razjosh. ‘We let people believe it was some sort of miracle. But it wasn’t. We got rid of it with the help of some of our friends from another world. Not that you  should ever say anything, not even to Maria. That is classified Golden Knowledge.’

‘Well if I did have to travel, would you come along as well?’ asked Kaleem.

‘That depends,’ said Razjosh, ‘on just how far into the future we’re talking about. Look at me. I’m an old man.’

Kaleem could not imagine carrying on with this project without Razjosh. He could not think what to say.

‘Just work hard, now that you’re well again,’ said Razjosh and he disappeared.

Kaleem did work hard. He became so familiar with Wordtext that he could read it from the screen as fast as he could speak English. It amazed him that since he had recovered from his illness he could work better, concentrate more. He seemed to understand everything more easily. He worked hard on the four skills of listening. speaking, understanding information texts and constructing information texts, in three of the foundation languages -the ones on which all others are built. He looked at the backgrounds to those languages, studying the people of the planets where they were spoken.

He was grappling with a Wordtext file, written in French, which was spoken on  three active planets in his own solar system alone, when he heard a commotion coming from the main chamber of the cave.

Maria had obviously just let someone in. He recognised Razjosh’s voice.

‘Put on the news channel,’ Razjosh was saying. He was actually in the lounge, this time for real, not just as a hologram. ‘Then you will see for yourself.’

The news was dreadful. Three more boys had become victims of the mystery illness.

‘Illness has been unheard of on Terrestra for over two hundred years,’ the newscaster was saying. ‘Officials at the Health Ministry are saying that it must have come from space, possibly lying dormant on our planet since the time of the dispersal of the poison cloud. Health Department scientists are working on producing antidotes which can be added to the diastic systems. There is no cause for alarm.’

‘I think there is a cause for alarm,’ said Razjosh. ‘In fact the Council of Elders is generally in agreement about that. But, of course, we’re playing it down to the public. The Department of Information is keeping a watch out, and much of the real story is being hidden.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Maria. ‘We don’t want everyone knowing our business.’

‘Well, there is that,’ said Razjosh. ‘But the greater concern is, where did that illness come from? And also, will people be able to cope? We’re not used to feeling ill anymore.’

No, thought Kaleem. We’re not.

He remembered how frightening it had been. How uncomfortable. The nearest to it he had ever experienced before was the slight tired feeling when he had done too much work, or the fidgety feeling he had when he’d sat still for too long. There had been easy remedies to that. A quick burst on an exerciser, a walk outside, or a drink of coffee or of fortified caffeine juice had soon sorted that out. But when he was ill, there had been nothing which had relieved his discomfort. Even when he was asleep, he had felt odd, except in that one dream which came over and over again. Then he had felt normal. Well, disturbed, yes but more alert and more lucid than normal.

Maria was biting her lip and staring beyond him and Razjosh. She was even paler than usual. Suddenly, she seemed to wake from her daydream.

‘Do you think it’s going to spread?’ she asked. ‘Will they be able to stop it?’

‘Who knows?’ replied Razjosh. ‘We can only hope.’

It occurred to Kaleem that not only had he recovered from the illness, but also it had somehow enabled him to work better.

‘Does it really matter, though?’ he asked. ‘Look, I’m all right. And I also appreciate being well.’ He hesitated about telling Razjosh that he thought it had improved his capacity to learn.

Razjosh laughed.

‘That is fine, and good,’ he replied. ‘But we know from the old days that not everyone responds the same way to illness. A trivial virus, known commonly as a cold, could kill a baby or a very old person. And some people made complete recoveries from more serious diseases, but others didn’t.’

Suddenly Kaleem felt depressed. Okay, he had recovered well from it, but that illness had been terrible. If that was being ill, he never wanted it to happen again. No wonder disease was not welcome on Terrestra. That was bad enough. But it was just his luck as well! It would be him who was the first to catch something which threatened the way everyone on Terrestra lived. Different again.

‘However,’ continued Razjosh, ‘we shall need to do tests on you. To establish what the virus is and how much immunity you have developed, and see if we can culture a vaccine and an antidote and add it to the diastic water supplies.

It would also be useful,’ he added, turning towards Maria, ‘to know as much as possible about the parenting of Kaleem. Do you have the Stopes records to hand?’

Maria went very pale.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I have an urgent assignment to finish.’ She rushed out of the room.

‘But it wouldn’t take long….’ said Razjosh.

‘She doesn’t have our Stopes records,’ said Kaleem. ‘She won’t tell. She just won’t say anything.’

For a few hours,  Razjosh and Kaleem looked for his birth records via the dataserve and information centre, and found nothing. There was absolutely no record of his birth or conception.

Kaleem was hardly surprised. He had, of course, tried that himself several times. And Maria had told him nothing.

‘It’s just an error,’ she would say, every time Kaleem asked her about it. ‘They still happen. It’s not important. You’re a quite normal young man, aren’t you?’

But I’m not, Kaleem always thought. I’m so different.

At least with Razjosh present they had been able to look further. He could access Golden Knowledge. But perhaps the secret wasn’t there. Perhaps it was buried in the Hidden Information. Even Razjosh wasn’t allowed to look there.

There was nothing. Nothing at all.

‘Well, it happens,’ said Razjosh. ‘Unusual these days, but it does still happen. And a bit of a nuisance in this case. Your mother has told you nothing?’

Kaleem shook his head.

Razjosh sent Kaleem out.

‘Give me time to talk to her without you there,’ he said. ‘Come back in an hour.’

Kaleem walked and walked, through the park and then out into the town, way beyond where they’d had the two school meets earlier. He was not far from the Laguna bar and was almost tempted to go in. But he might meet someone there and he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He scuffed the ground with his feet. Why did she have to be so secretive? Why wouldn’t she tell him what he wanted to know.

The cold began to nibble at his fingers and his toes despite the fact that he had been walking so quickly that he was almost out of breath.

He turned back towards the cave. He was calmer and tired when he arrived home.

Razjosh was still in his room staring at his dataserve.

‘Well, have you found anything?’ asked Kaleem, hoping that there just might be something.

The Elder shook his head. He looked straight into Kaleem’s eyes. That piercing blue again. That feeling that he could understand everything you were thinking just by looking at you. Kaleem shivered.

‘Nothing,’ said Razjosh. ‘I’m afraid she’ll have to be brought in for questioning.’

Then Razjosh left.

Maria stayed in her room. Kaleem knocked on her door several times, but she refused to answer. The door stayed firmly locked. Eventually, late into the evening, he forced the door open and walked into her room.

She was sitting on her bed. Tears streaming down her face. She quickly stuffed something down the side of the bed.

‘He was a wonderful man, your father,’ she said.

The next morning, Kaleem found her pottering about in the kitchen. The kitchen robot stood lifeless in the corner. She had obviously deactivated it. Another good breakfast was spread out on the table.

‘Mum, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble,’ he said. ‘Are we celebrating again?’

Maria turned and faced him. She was even paler than the day before.

Her pupils were wide open and she stared at him. She pointed to the table.

They could not afford all of this, they really couldn’t.

Kaleem had no appetite. He wanted to know more about what she had said the previous evening.

‘You say he was wonderful, my father,’ he said. ‘So tell me about him.’

Maria crumpled and fell to the floor.

The Prophecy Overground Chapter One

Kaleem fidgeted. The room was annoying him. He had been sitting in the uncomfortable, old-fashioned chair for what seemed like hours. Some of the suggestions the others were making really irritated him. Why didn’t they think? He wished he didn’t have to be here. He’s much rather be back at home, working on the  dataserve his mother had at last managed to buy for him.

His eyes strayed to the window. That was some compensation at least. A relief from the gloom of  the caves. The sun was shining brightly, catching the reds and oranges of the leaves from the now sixteen-year-old trees. A squirrel jumped on the tree nearest the window, making its branches shake.

‘So, Kaleem, why do we consider it important to preserve all forms of life on Terrestra?’  Maggie Johnstone’s voice was piercing and high pitched. This lot was enough to make anyone nervous. ‘Including squirrels, if you like,’ she added. From other teachers, that would have sounded sarcastic. From her, though, it was just a gentle tease.

‘Oh, Maggie, it’s cos he lives in a cave!’ answered Stuart Davidson.

‘Yeah, look at him!’ Erik Svenson joined in. ‘He’s not so pure himself.’

Kaleem blushed. He was only too aware that his skin was browner than that of the other white members of his class, and his hair was blonder.

‘Yeah, Goldilocks day dreaming again!’ giggled Rozia Laurence.

That one hurt. She obviously didn’t think much of him. But she was absolutely gorgeous. Sleek black hair and a pale face. The perfect Terrestran looks, in fact, if you couldn’t be respectably yellow or black .

‘Now, come on folks,’ said Maggie, blushing herself a little too.

Kaleem suddenly felt sorry for Maggie. She was trying really hard to make them think for themselves and to include everybody in the conversation. She wasn’t much older than them. She probably hadn’t been doing this very long.

‘You do know about throw-backs?’ Maggie continued.

‘What’s that then?’ asked Pierre LaFontaine.

‘Look,’ continued Maggie. ‘Kaleem can’t help the way he looks. Occasionally, genetic information comes through from generations ago. Before Terrestra became a One World, there were several nationalities that had skin which tanned easily and fair hair. The Swedes, for example. They coped less well with the cave life and gradually died out.’

‘Sounds like a vegetable!’ sniggered Erik.

‘Hey, Kaleem’s a turnip!’ laughed Stuart.

Kaleem slumped down further in his seat.

‘What do you mean different nationalities?’ asked Rozia.

‘Well,’ began Maggie. ‘There used to be ….’

Suddenly the large datascreen lit up. The face of  Rajud Hepman, the coordinator of their schooling group, appeared on the screen.

‘Miss Johnstone,’ said Rajud. ‘A word, please. Students, you may dismiss early.’

Maggie blushed deep red now. Rajud Hepman’s voice sounded stern. A shame; she had been trying so hard to be fair to everyone.

‘Throw back!’ scoffed Erik as made their way to the transports.

‘You going straight home?’ asked Pierre.

‘Yes, but I want to walk,’ answered Kaleem.

‘You’re strange, man,’ said Pierre. ‘It’s cold out there!’

‘But I like the fresh air!’ replied Kaleem.

Pierre’s teeth were chattering.

They both knew the real reason, though. Kaleem just didn’t want to go back home. The colours up here were such a contrast to the grimness of the caves and they were so much more alive than the ones on the screen of his dataserve. No, he never wanted to leave the cosiness of the cave, but once he was out, he never wanted to go back down.

The two boys made their way across the square towards the park. There weren’t many people about today. Just an older looking man, who seemed to stare at the two boys.

‘He’s a bit creepy,’ said Kaleem.

‘No, he just thinks we’re nuts for being out here,’ replied Pierre.

‘So why’s he out here then?’ asked Kaleem.

‘Cos he’s nuts as well?’ suggested Pierre.

Kaleem shrugged. He stared at the old man. Although he was still quite a distance away, Kaleem could tell that he was staring back. Kaleem shivered.

‘Come on then,’ said Pierre. ‘It’s too cold to stand still. He’s probably getting near to switch-off.’

Kaleem watched the man turn and start walking away from them. The park was deserted now. Most people just did not stay outside for very long. They preferred the controlled, even temperature inside the buildings.

The grass in the park was damp, and there were dried leaves covering the paths. They crunched underneath their feet.

‘Breathe that air, man,’ shouted Kaleem. ‘It’s rich, rich, rich!’

‘It hurts if you breathe too hard!’ laughed Pierre. ‘Look, I’m getting frost bite here. I’m going to hop on to a transporter when we get to the other side.’

As soon as they arrived at the station, a transporter glided in humming and hovered gently as its doors opened. It was one of the old ones that used to run through the caves. There weren’t many people in it. People preferred the quieter ones with the seats which moulded themselves to you to give the maximum comfort. They would let these relics from the below-ground life go by.

‘Coming?’ asked Pierre.

Kaleem went to get on. Stuart Davidson and Erik Svenson were grinning sickeningly though the window of the carriage that stopped in front of them. Rozia was with them.

‘I think I’ll walk,’ muttered Kaleem.

‘Suit yourself,’ said Pierre. ‘Only don’t blame me if your fingers fall off!’

The doors of the transporter slid shut. Pierre waved. Rozia smiled at him. Erik and Stuart were whispering. They pointed at him and laughed. Just as well he couldn’t hear it. It was probably not at all nice.

The transporter vanished. Pierre was right. It was cold. But he just couldn’t have faced those Muppets. Perhaps he should log a request for another transporter?

No, that would mean he would be back in the caves within minutes. If he walked, he would have at least half an hour ‘outside’. It was good to see so much colour.

Kaleem set off. He walked smartly and that kept him warm, though the ends of his fingers were numb with cold.

They ought to bring back gloves, he thought. They’d had them before the poison cloud arrived. But nobody bothered enough with outside. Only the people whose job it was to maintain the new parklands and gardens. They wore gloves all right. But those were to protect their hands from spiky plants and dirty soil, not to warm them.

Kaleem’s thoughts soon turned from gloves to the questions which always bothered him when he had time to think. Why did he and his mother live in the caves? Why were they so poor? Why wouldn’t she go out? She had no contact with the outside world. She never used the movie screen and she only used any of the communication systems for essentials - ordering food and discussing Kaleem’s schoolwork. Where and who was his father? Why did he look so different from the others? He was different. He felt different…as if he knew some things and understood some things about which the others hadn’t even the seed of an idea.

All too soon, he was at the mouth of the cave. He cursed himself for forgetting to enjoy the view. He took a last look round. It was getting dark now, and even the outside colours were beginning to fade to the similar monotones that surrounded him inside the cave. The setting sun was glorious though. Pink cotton wool clouds floating on a sea of gold. Even though they had a skylight in the apartment, and even though the plastiglass had been replaced with veriglass, it wasn’t the same, seeing it from the inside, as it was seeing the whole of the sky in one go as he could now.

Kaleem stared a few moments and watched the sun fade completely. He was about to go down in the artificial blue light and pale concrete of the caves when he saw someone move in the distance.  They moved slowly and deliberately, obviously someone quite old. Was it him again? Whoever it was stopped and turned and waved to Kaleem. Kaleem shivered again.

Minutes later he was opening the door of their apartment.

‘Hey Kaleem,’ called his mother. ‘How was it?’

He daren’t answer that one truthfully.

‘Ok,’ he called. ‘You should see the sunset! That’s why I’m so late. I had to watch it all the way down.’

‘I saw it,’ she replied.

She was pale. A little too pale perhaps. It must be because she spent all of her time in this dull apartment. And she worried. He knew that she didn’t sleep well at night. He’d heard her prowling about.

‘So, what happened at the meet?’ She stared at him from her dark circled eyes.

‘Oh, usual stuff,’ mumbled Kaleem. Usual arguments, usual hot air about nothing. ‘Some people just don’t have anything sensible to say.’

He remembered the conversation about the Swedes and turnips. He couldn’t help smiling to himself. Of course, it was a pain, putting up with certain people’s interpretation of that, but yes, it was funny, if he was like a Swede, or maybe, even a turnip….

Then he remembered then what had happened to Maggie Johnstone.

‘Mum, do teachers ever get fired? For saying the wrong thing?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Well she was saying something about the Old Times. When there were different nationalities. All because they were having a go again about my hair.’

‘Oh, Hidden Information,’ she said. She paused, and stared out in front of her, a deep frown cutting through her forehead.

What was she thinking about now?

She shook her head. ‘Anyway, why do you want to know about that?’ she asked, looking straight at Kaleem now.

He told his mother more of what had happened.

‘Well, I guess Rajud Hepman will at the very least take her off the programme for retraining,’ said Maria.

That was a real shame. Maggie Johnstone was one of the most straightforward adults Kaleem had ever met. He was sure he was learning something with her.

‘Well, sweetie,’ said Maria. ‘I’ll get something to eat. Why don’t you relax a bit while you wait?’

But Kaleem didn’t want to relax. There was something he wanted to check out.

He went to his room and told the dataserve to come on. He asked for information about other planets. He wanted to know just exactly what was so special about Terrestra and the people on it.

At least that’s allowed, he thought. That’s not Hidden Information surely? Only about other nationalities before we became a One World planet.

He wondered for a moment about Hidden Information. He was certain that some of the people in his group used it. He’d heard one or two whispering about it. What was it, really? What did it do to you if you got hold of some of it?

‘Request denied,’ sang the tinny voice of his dataserve after a lot whirring and chuntering to itself.  No matter what Kaleem asked, the only information he could obtain about any other planet was its size, the name of its inhabitants, what the planet produced and which other planets it traded with. Nothing about what the people were like or what they believed in. No mention of trading with Terrestra, of course. That’s what the seminar at the meet had been about today.

The smell of leek, potato and quimnet soup wafted into his room. He hadn’t realised just how hungry the walk back to the caves had made him. He started to set the machine to stand by.

‘Supper’s ready,’ shouted Maria.

Kaleem was about to command the dataserve to close down all programmes, when a Wordtext file suddenly appeared on the screen. It looked like complete gibberish, with words he could not understand, though he had mastered Wordtext four years ago. This was not Terrestran English. In fact, it appeared not to be English at all. Apart from the odd word here and there, and over and over again,  Peace Child Project.

It must be a mistake, thought Kaleem. It’s probably meant for someone else.

‘Hey, not hungry then?’ Maria called out.

Kaleem stared for a few seconds more at the screen. The file was still loading. Then he made his way to the communal space. The machine carried on working.