Advance: (Advance Industries) (Book 1) Read online

  “Why invent it then?”

  “Originally it was designed with medical purposes in mind. Think, if a patient needed an organ straight away but the only match was a hospital off grid, a machine such as we invented could transport the organ in seconds. No more lengthy waiting periods. So many lives would be saved.”

  He sounds so passionate that I have to agree. It sounds like a fantastic creation. The Advance tubes would be amazing if that was there sole purpose.

  “Okay so let me get this straight, you disagreed with their proposal, but then what? Why did you leave? And why hide in plain sight?”

  “It was leave or face ‘accidental death'. They couldn't risk a scientist of my calibre leaking how atrocious the invention would be if used for the wrong means. They could have no negativity surrounding Advance. They are a multi-national corporation and they invested heavily in this design, if anything stopped it being brought to the market they'd crumble.”

  “So what do the homeless going missing have to do with this?”

  “Come on Faith, you're the reporter do the math. They need to test on humans, what humans are better to test on than unwanted homeless ones, most with no identities. They won't be missed Faith and any that are won't be investigated properly by the law. I think they're being abducted and subjected to testing; testing that will no doubt kill them.”

  “Why are you coming to me? And why now?” I query. Yes, this story would be great for my career but I’m not sure what difference it would make. Johnson’s followers would likely apprehend me for daring to accuse such a thing and I’d be made a laughing stock.

  “I hoped the design would fall apart without me heading the research, after all it was my design and no one knows it as well as I do. I didn't know for sure and still don't know if that's why they're taking the homeless, but it's too convenient to ignore. I chose you Faith because although you live at the complex, I've seen you on the streets helping out with charity. You're not like most, you don't see a person’s wealth or lack of it, you just see the person. The fact that you’re sat here with me now, in the open being judged by your peers proves that.

  I need you to help me expose Advance Industries, they must be stopped and I can't do it alone. I'm sorry to put this on you, what I'm asking of you is risky but I don't know what else to do. There are not many people I can turn to but I can't sit back any longer knowing that whatever their motives are, no good can come from them.”

  How can a girl say no to that impassioned plea while he's sat looking at me with such hope? How can I say no and carry on living day to day, knowing I had the opportunity to really make a difference, end suffering and take down Advance Industries at the same time? How could I possibly carry on with the tediousness of my life knowing what I now know?

  It's a no brainer really.

  “I'm in but I'm going to need to see that proof.”

  Chapter 2

  We take a slow walk back to the gated complex, almost reluctantly. The city is divided from off grid dwellers by a towering wall and guards are stationed at the gate. Once inside the city the streets span for miles in either direction, which is where the poorer of the city’s residents reside. Beyond that is the complex, another gated entrance separates ‘us’ the rich from the poor. The difference between the inside of the complex to outside on the street is startling. The streets are littered with the poor, those deemed too unimportant to be given monetary status. They have their own areas that they stick to and have made their own. We have an unspoken understanding; they leave us alone and vice versa. Begging is forbidden, something that in the days of old I hear was common.

  Those that work the jobs that most don’t want such as the street cleaners, live in shacks in close proximity to the homeless and they generally handout castoffs or food to them. And then there are those who are too scared to venture out of the city gates and into the unknown, off the grid. The few that did take the chance never returned and rumours were rife that they had met a grizzly end.

  The compound or complex as most call it is huge and separated into zones that increase in size. Zone 1 for the mega rich, down to Zone 5 for the lowly well off.

  Each zone is sectioned and accessible to anyone that lives inside the gates. Accessed only through comm-recs. Few venture out of their own zone unless entering or leaving which is rare as they have no desire to mix with the people that share our city but not our wealth.

  Zone 5 is closest to the front gate and luckily seems to be deserted at this time of day. I’m relieved, I can just imagine the gossip if I was seen with a homeless inside the complex. Thank God lethal injections died along with most things from days of old.

  Fraser keeps his head bowed, clearly used to hiding and I wonder if he's worried about being discovered. He lived here once, most likely a Zone 1 or 2, I think, but he willingly left the luxury for a life on the streets. I can't hide my respect. I’m only wealthy because my parents were and once they died that wealth was passed to me. I don’t remember my parents, though I have photos of them and personal belongings. I guess they died so long ago that’s why I can’t recall a single memory of us together, sad but true.

  Although I would hate to live on the streets I also hate the mind-set of the community I share, of those so well off they see nothing but pound signs anymore. If you live on the street or God forbid - off the grid, you're not worth the time of day.

  My comm-rec activates the huge intricate Iron Gate when I swipe my wrist over the sensor and it swings open. I look at Fraser’s expression of awe as we enter. “I'd almost forgotten how extravagant it is here,” he says, taking in the luscious manicured lawns and multitude of rainbow flowers bordering the pathway.

  Advance Industries really did create a beautiful city for the rich, it’s a shame they didn’t take as much time to make outside the gates as habitable.

  The distance from zone to zone is lengthy and normally I would summon an over-rider to transport me from the main gate to my zone, but Fraser is so engrossed by the beauty I decide to delight in his joy and also take time to appreciate the luxury surrounding me.

  I take it for granted.

  Fraser continues looking around as we walk, stopping to touch the flowers and run his fingertips over glass buildings as we pass. The sun reflecting from their surface causes a breath taking light display; almost like a dance. Fraser is still in awe and I smile. The zone he lived in would be ten times more magnificent than this, yet he's been deprived of the basic things for so long it's almost mesmerising to watch.

  When we reach the mountainous fountain at the border of Zone 5 and Zone 4, Fraser runs to it like a child to sweets and scoops up handfuls. He starts throwing it at his face, then washes his hands and runs his fingers through his shaggy hair. He stands back and marvels at the cascading stream of water.

  Addressing me without looking my way he says, “This is just an ornament, it’s something appealing to look at, pleasing to the eye, but out there this un-needed ornament would be so appreciated. Out there the homeless would benefit greatly from something so simple. They could drink and wash, never wondering when the next time was that they'd be able to do so. Out there something so simple would make all the difference.” He shakes his head in frustration.

  “Yes it would,” I agree quietly, feeling guilty. They wouldn't have to wait for charity to arrive with handouts; they could just bask in its glory.

  “Here we are,” I announce stopping in front of my home. Like all the other glass structures it’s gleaming and I was happy with the size after recently downgrading.

  My comm-rec unlocks the door and disconnects the alarm and Fraser joins me inside.

  We walk straight in to a grand but understated open plan living area. Marble steps lead down into the relaxation room, with the kitchen to the left and the living area straight ahead. To the right is a sweeping staircase and behind that an eleview.

  My guilt suddenly increases on looking at my surroundings. I’m well aware the size of this place is ridiculous
for just one person and to be honest I don’t remember furnishing it with many of the items. I’m not even sure the colours are what I like. Gold’s and silvers accentuate every space. It feels too glitzy and doesn’t match my personality at all. I gesture for Fraser to seat himself on the corner suite, which is lavishly upholstered and rarely used. My house doesn’t feel like a home, it’s not warm or inviting but sterile and cold. I avoid it as much as possible, usually working long hours and only returning here when I need to sleep.

  After refusing my offer of refreshments I join Fraser on the suite and he starts talking.

  “Last night I decided to stay awake and investigate as much as I could under the cover of darkness. I didn't know if there would be anything to see but wanted to capture anything that could be of interest. I hung back from the usual group I’d aligned myself with and kept watch. A little after 2 in the morning a transport truck rolled up and six of Johnson Frank’s guards silently got out and started scanning the area, here look.”

  He lifts his hand where his comm-rec is and a holograph is projected in front of us, playing the images from the early hours of this morning as if it were happening right now in my living room.

  I watch as the men file out into two teams of three and weave between the sleeping, looking for a good pick supposedly. They are definitely Johnson Franks men, they’re wearing their traditional dark blue jumpsuits, black guard boots and wear the AIG (Advance Industries Guards) emblem on their arms.

  The first team seem to have found their prey. A guard stands either side of the sleeping form keeping watch on the other homeless bodies littering the street, and from the projection I can't make out whether it’s a male or female they have targeted. The third guard produces a syringe and injects it into the forms neck, while placing his other hand over the person’s mouth. The other two then pick up the body and start carrying it back to the truck while the third guard keeps watch.

  No screaming. No struggle; just quick, silent and efficient.

  The other team of three also start walking back to the truck carrying a limp body between them; they lay it out in the back and drive off.

  Fraser deactivates his comm-rec and the holograph fades away.

  “Oh my God Fraser!” My hand flies to my mouth and I stare at him wide-eyed. “I believed you but seeing it is something else, those poor people. What do we do?” Until now I didn’t really expect him to produce something worthy of being called evidence.

  “Faith we can't just simply report this, even with this proof we're talking about Johnson Franks. He wouldn't take the fall for this, the guards would and it’s him we need to stop. His influence is far reaching. Everyone at the complex is on his payroll, the Advance Industries Guards are the law and whether they agree with his orders or not they will never cross him. He has the means to destroy their lives and therefore they’ll remain steadfast in their co-operation. No one would want to take on the task of accusing the president of Advance Industries of committing a crime.”

  “So why did you come to me? You must have a plan Fraser to come out of hiding otherwise what was the point?”

  “I need to get to headquarters and I need to access my lab. Any proof that they're being tested on unwillingly will be there. Failing that, maybe I can find some reports or documentation that Johnson Franks has signed off on. As a last resort I will have to destroy my creation, contrary to what other researchers believe and due to our atomic structure it’s not as simple as dematerialising.

  This is a dangerous machine to put humans in Faith. The stage we were at before I left was still nowhere near completion, and that was for the use of items much smaller than humans. It’s unstable and would have been at least another two years in experimenting before it would be stable enough for the market.”

  “Johnson Franks called a press conference today though saying they were ready with the invention and asking for willing participants to test it.”

  Fraser scoffs. “Impossible, we were still ironing out processing power and secure communication amongst other things when I left. It would need an unlimited power source to sustain it.”

  “That's what he announced before I met you. If he's asking for willing participants to apply why would he need to abduct homeless to test on?”

  “I don't know Faith, like I said I'm not one hundred percent sure of his motives but either way he is orchestrating the abduction of homeless, and he is trying to bring an unstable creation to the market, a creation that will kill many I assure you.”

  “So how can I help?” As interesting and intriguing as this all is I have no idea what I could possibly do to assist. I’m just a reporter; I have no connections, no pull in the community. In fact, I might as well be invisible as I have no-one.

  “You're a reporter but more than that you care about injustice. I need access to my home in Zone 1, I can't go but I can get you in and you can retrieve my work for me. If you're stopped, I was thinking you could pretend that you're looking into my disappearance again as your cover. Write up your piece about today's conference, coupled with what I can tell you it should be enough to put doubt in people’s minds without endangering you. Advance Industries won't pay too much attention as long as we don't go in too heavy, so be subtly suggestive in your piece. Then we figure out how to gain entry to the lab.”

  Wow, this is all getting a bit too crazy, granted I was excited about the prospect of covering such a story coupled with undeniable proof, but is this all going too far? I’m a reporter for God sake, not a law enforcer or spy. Advance Industries is not a company to be messed with. If they could drive the great Professor Laudnam into hiding what will happen to me?

  I chew on my thumb nervously while weighing up the pros and cons. Fraser needs help and not many others would believe him or even care unless it directly affected their lifestyle. They certainly won't show any concern over homeless going missing, as Fraser said they'll probably appreciate the streets being cleaned.

  “Fraser I'll try to help any way I can you have my word, but I won't risk my life, understood?”

  He regards me thoughtfully. “Fair enough, Faith. I wouldn't ask for anything more and so you know, I'm unbelievably grateful to you for listening to me, believing me and agreeing to help me. I'll forever be in your debt.”

  He's such a lovely man and his morals rival mine. He's at least twenty years older than me but in him I can sense a kindred spirit. Was he always like this? Or did his time spent on the street open his eyes to the city's woes? Did his stint on the street cause his compassion for humanity or did he feel this way even when he was living in grandeur? Did he care about homeless before he became one? No–one else that I have ever had contact with in the complex has shown a shred of compassion for the homeless. I was starting to think there was something wrong with me. “I suggest we start tonight; I'll leave you get some rest before we reconvene,” he says rising from the suite.

  “Fraser don't be so ridiculous, I am not going to do re-con in Zone 1 then traipse the streets to find and update you. Not to mention if you're caught leaving the complex alone you'll be detained and then where will we be? You can stay here, there's plenty of room and it makes sense. Looks like we're partners now, so after I play private investigator tonight you will be waiting here for a debrief okay?”

  “Anything you say partner,” Fraser says winking.

  Chapter 3

  After showing Fraser to my spare room and leaving him to bask in the delight of the en-suite, I busy myself with the only thing I can think of to do - finding a suitable outfit to wear while I play spy woman. Clearly heels are out of the question and alas I seem to own no combat gear. I laugh inwardly at my thoughts, who cares what I wear? If I rock up to Zone 1 all in black like a prowler I really will call attention to myself.

  Remembering my cover story - investigating Fraser Laudnam’s disappearance, I decide okay so black trousers, pumps and a tidy blouse should suffice. I’m a reporter I tell myself, act nonchalant and it'll all be fine.

&n
bsp; Except Zone 1, being as it houses the richest members of the city is guarded unlike the other zones. Especially as Zone 1 is home to the conference centre. My sneaky reporter skills best pan out for me tonight.

  I decide to get in a few hours of sleep before we run through the plan. I swipe my comm-rec cuff over the sensor on my bedside to activate the curtains to close. I have no need to do so as the glass is one way but I have an irrational fear of being watched, filmed even and closing the curtains soothes my misplaced worries. I climb up the steps to get into bed and I’m out as soon as my head is down.

  My sleep is invaded with images of homeless being wrestled into Advance tubes. The sounds of their screaming as their bodies fry and dissipate terrify me. I can see the homeless standing in front of at least four Advance tubes all in a row, lined up neatly next to each other. They are all assigned a tube and as the sliding door closes behind them they vanish into dust, their clothes dropping to the floor the only evidence they were ever there. It's my turn next; I’m manhandled into the tube and wrinkle my nose at the smell of burning flesh. I try not to gag but my reflex is weak and my nostrils are burning. I close my eyes preparing to fry, but nothing happens. I don't end up as a pile of clothes on the floor.

  I simply cease to exist.

  I wake with a jolt but don't move. My breathing is shallow and my palms clammy, that felt way too real for my liking and I need a minute to calm my thoughts. I feel sick and can almost taste the desperation of the homeless in my dream.

  That's one hell of an over active imagination you have I tell myself. Get it together, tonight will never work if you’re a bag of nerves and as jumpy as a frog.