Paradigm (9781909490406) by Ceri A. Lowe Read Free Book Online

Transporter.
    â€˜Carter!’
    He looked up into the light. And then he watched as the girl ran towards him into the shelter. She stood over Carter, who was crouched in a heap in on the floor, shivering. A scarf half-covered her face and she wore an old metal bucket on her head.
    â€˜You’re the one,’ she said, breathing heavily. ‘I know who you are. You need to be the one whom people look to, the person who saves us all. Find her and go to the old Delaney House, near the Barricades in the south—you know where. We can’t go together. I wanted us to, but we can’t. You mustn’t let them win this time. They’re coming for me. And they might be listening .’ The last part came out as a whisper. Carter looked at her, blinking in the light.
    â€˜What the…?’ he started.
    â€˜Shh,’ said the girl, ‘they’re coming for me. Don’t let them know that you saw me. Make sure that you go to the Barricades. She’ll show you. When you find out the truth, you’ll know why. I will be there waiting for you. It’s your time.’ She held out her palm then rubbed it against Carter’s.
    â€˜ Veritas liberabit vos ,’ she said and there was silence for a second before she looked around and ran back out of the shelter and into the blinding lights of the oncoming Transporter as it careered towards her. There was a piercing scream and Carter closed his eyes tightly away from the glare. The driverless carriage stopped for a second, its motion camera flickering into the shelter, picking up everything except the curled-up Carter. After it sensed no passengers, it reversed back in the direction it had come from.
    Carter kept his eyes closed tightly until there was silence. After a few minutes, even the pelting rain had stopped. When he opened his eyes again, it was like he had imagined everything. And there was more than silence—there was nothing. The air smelled dark and smoky, and both the mysterious girl and the Transporter had gone.
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    I n the moonlight , after the rain, there was a flavour to the air that felt different. A warm blush of lavender and bracken wafted over him for a second before it disappeared, taking with it the strange words of the girl and the scent of summer evaporating into the night. That night reminded him of something—something from his Academy days—but, however hard he tried, Carter couldn’t quite remember what.
    That worried him. His near-perfect, reproductive memory was one of his greatest talents, although not the only one. Before he’d gone into the Catacombs there was nothing he hadn’t excelled at—in his Academy days he’d had an exemplary record in all subjects and had even been called to the Industry Headquarters on two occasions for work experience—an honour that was only afforded to the most diligent of students. The first time, when he was eleven, he’d developed a new set of flavours for the synthetic food team that won him a whole box of fauclate. Then, when he was just turning fourteen, he identified and fixed a glitch in the Model that almost sent half the population of the Community underground. Not one of the senior analysts had even realised there was an issue.
    â€˜You’ve got the dynamics wrong,’ Carter had said, switching seven different dials a fraction of a centimetre deftly while they watched in amazement.
    â€˜You can’t touch that, kid,’ said the chief technician, pushing Carter away, but the others held him back.
    â€˜He knows what he’s doing,’ said one of the analysts. ‘He can manage this thing with his eyes closed; he’s a genius.’
    After that, the Industry sometimes called on Carter to make the occasional repair or tweak to the Model, which he did for no reward other than to be in the central control tower. He loved the buzz and whirr of the machinery and the soft click of his fingers on the panel buttons