fear no more by george anthony

7/27/2019 Fear No More by George Anthony

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George Anthony

Fear No More

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun…"

(William Shakespeare, Cymbeline, IV, ii)

Jonte faced playtime with mixed feelings. When the bell rang, the

others would rush into the open air, laughing and chattering. He

felt left out. Yet these were also times he enjoyed. He could

daydream about how things might have been.

Sometimes, though, he would watch the play − not directly,

that would have been impossible − but on the big screen in one

of the classrooms. Cheering on his friends made him feel part of

the action. Even through the screens, however, watching for long

often made his eyes hurt. Sunlight reflected strongly off the

silvery turf, and even more from the trees around the ground.

Players in motion trailed flashes of light which left black spots in

his vision.

It was during a tense game that the summons came through.

The shelter Principal, no less, wanted him at once in his office.

Jonte uttered a mild swearword, though realising that he had

already been watching too long − his head was aching. He madehis way to the admin sector; signalled his arrival; and went in.

The Principal was behind his desk directly opposite the door.

He was a small man, with metallic black hair cut short,

silver-grey hands in constant fidgety motion, and an expression

of perpetual irritation. He waved in the direction of a chair placed

in front of the desk.

But to Jonte's surprise, there were several other people in the

office. It was difficult at first to see them all clearly: not only had

the effects of watching the match still to wear off, but the lighting

was poor. Perhaps the Principal had only remembered at the last

minute to close the heavy shutters and switch on a lamp.

As his vision returned, Jonte's surprise grew. The six men andtwo women, who sat in a half circle to one side, judging by their

job tags, were senior…very senior. Four were from the

administration. The two women and the other two men seemed

to be scientists from different research bodies.

< 2 >

Jonte was used to the fact that other people were inscrutable.

He would have been able tell from gazing in a mirror into his own

eyes, with their blue irises surrounding dark pupils, how he was

feeling, even if he hadn't known already. But other people's eyes

Class 1 to Class

12

www.MeritNa

Lessons,

Animations, Videos

& more… Math,

EVS, Science,

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Stories: Fear No More by George Anthony http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/FearMore

5 7/29/2013



were silver discs, giving away nothing. He could sometimes see

from the rest of their faces whether they were happy or sad,

smiling or frowning; but their skin reflected the light, so that he

could never be quite sure. From the way they were sitting, he

thought, the visitors seemed anxious.

"Jonte", the Principal said, "these people have a favour to ask,

and I hope you can help them. Please sit down."

Jonte's surprise grew. What possible favour could these

people want from someone like him?

"I'll help if I can", he said.

"You know," the Principal went on, "that you have had to grow

up here because going outside would be dangerous. Your body

wouldn't be able to withstand the radiation, even at night-time.

Ordinary people are born with protection; but in your case…."

"So you see", one of the women interjected quickly, "you are

really a very interesting young man. We want you to let us get to

know you better."

"The people here," the Principal resumed, "are from the

government's science and research council. They would like to

take you to one of their centres in the south, where the facilities

are supposed to be better than we can provide…."

"But I'm quite happy here," Jonte felt he should say. "My

friends….."

"….and in any case, "the Principal insisted a tr ifle sourly, "you

wouldn't be able to stay much longer. The shelter is being closed

down."

Jonte took this in. "So when do I have to go?" he asked.

"If you can pack your things together quickly, "one of the men

replied, "we should like to move you this evening…say in an hour.

Is that all right?"

< 3 >

An hour! The suddenness of it all puzzled Jonte. His condition

had been known from the moment he had been born when his

parents − so he had been told − had handed him over for special

care. But it also excited him. Apart from a short journey when he

had been much younger to a medical centre, he could not

remember ever having left the shelter. He didn't really have

much to pack anyway.

"OK", he said.

*

The transporter that was to take him south was a large one,

larger than anything he had been in before. Even so, there was

only one other person in the closed seating section besides

himself: the woman who had said she wanted to get to know him

better. Looking at her in the dim lighting that came from a single

small unit on the roof, he thought she must be quite old. Her

slightly puffy silver-grey face was framed by precise waves of

bronze hair. The tag on her suit said she was chief psychologist at

the Regional Institute for Human Research.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "Not too upset at having to

leave suddenly like this?"

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Jonte shrugged. "I'm fine", he said. "Where are you taking

me?"

Behind her blank eyes, the psychologist seemed to be

thinking. Eventually she said: "I'm going to be open with you,

Jonte. Something has come up which makes it very important for

us to…to examine you, give you some tests, things like that. But

don't worry. It'll all be quite painless. Even fun, perhaps," she

added, smiling. "By the way, my name's Eden."

"But the medics from the centre come and test me all the

time!" Jonte exclaimed, not responding to the offered name.

"There can't be anything they don't know by now. Why don't you

get what you want from them?" But at the same time the

thought came to him that this suggestion was stupid: that wasn't

at all what they really wanted. He should have known

straightaway from the "being open" bit at the start.

< 4 >

"Oh, the tests we want to run are quite different from

anything done here," Eden replied. "Besides, our facilities are

much better than theirs. And I'm afraid the level of expertise in

those places is extremely low compared to what it used to be.

Only in centres like the Institute…."

She stopped abruptly, as both she and Jonte were jerked from

their seats. The transporter seemed to swing crazily from side to

side before making a sharp ninety degree turn, and then slowly

overbalancing onto one side. Eden rolled into one corner. Jonte

pulled himself up by one of the seats and made sure they were

still sealed from the outside. Fortunately the small centre light

was still working.

From the front there came sounds of shouting; then three or

four muffled thumps; then nothing. Eden tried unsuccessfully to

get up, so that Jonte felt he was now the one in charge.

"You OK?" he asked. "I suppose we've been in a crash orsomething, but it can't be too bad. I expect they'll get this thing

going again quite soon."

On cue, with faint scraping sounds, the transporter began to

right itself. Eden pulled herself back onto a seat, and sat for a

moment gasping. Then, in a strained whisper, she told Jonte to

keep as quiet and still as he could, adding: "They may not know

we're here."

Jonte was about to object, when, all of a sudden, he caught

on. They had been hijacked! This first long trip away from the

shelter was turning out stranger that he could ever have

imagined. He was just about to ask Eden what was really going

on, when the transporter shot into motion, throwing them back

against their seats. For a few minutes it travelled normally, then

began to lurch and jolt about as if being driven over very rough

ground. Jonte began again to ask what was happening and where

she thought they were going; but the psychologist seemed not to

hear. Instead she appeared in shock, gripping the sides of her

seat tightly and staring straight ahead with opaque eyes.

< 5 >

*

The journey turned out to be a long one. After an hour of being


5 7/29/2013



tossed around as the transporter travelled at high speed over

uneven terrain, Jonte had the impression that it had driven up a

ramp and parked. Then it began to vibrate and lurch erratically

from side to side. A loud, rattling engine noise came from

outside.

"Oh my God!" Eden suddenly exclaimed, "they're lifting us out

by helicopter!" The realisation seemed to revive her. She moved

closer to where Jonte was sitting, and began talking in a rapid

whisper.

"When we get there, Jonte, somehow you've got to escape.

We can't let them have you. Jonte, this is terribly important.

You'll have to hide until we can mount a rescue. Perhaps I should

have said something earlier. As far as we know, you're the only

one anywhere; and all the others want you too. I'll try and think

of something."

Eden, it seemed to Jonte, had raised rather a lot of questions.

He decided to ask the one he felt the most important: who were

"they"?

"They could be any one of several," Eden whispered back. "In

the Union, even, there are people who are acting behind our

backs. Then there are the Chinese, the Latin-Americans, the

Mid-East…all of them are running projects. Perhaps we'll get

some idea from the time it's taken when we land."

This gave Jonte his second and third questions. "What exactly

are these projects?" he asked; "and what have they to do with

me?"

Instead of replying, Eden was suddenly very still. Her blank

eyes were unreadable, but Jonte had the impression that she was

regretting her first response. The projects, whatever they were,

were meant to be secret; or at least secret from him.

Then he remembered Eden's earlier remark. The sudden

removal from the shelter, and what had happened since, began to

make sense. If it was true that he was unique, and with people

after him, the administration would want to put him somewhere

secure as soon as possible. But then: the only way in which he

was unique, as far as he knew, was in being never able, for the

whole of his life, to leave an environment shielded from the

outside. And again: that had been known since his birth. So he

was back to the question: why now?

< 6 >

For some time Jonte and Eden both remained silent, Jonte

trying to work out possible answers, Eden inscrutable and

unmoving. The vibrations and rattling engine noise continued to

penetrate the interior of the transporter, though the lurches from

side to side had stopped. Presumably they were in the air and

moving forwards, though it was impossible to gain any sense of

direction.

The silence between the two lasted about half an hour. By the

end, Jonte had reached the conclusion that there must have been

a sudden catastrophe or dramatic new discovery, with his peculiar

condition significant in some way. Whatever the event was, it

must have been a major one to justify what had happened. His

own role, too, he realised with a mixture of sneaking pride and

lurking panic, must also be major.

*


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Abruptly, the transporter ti lted forwards and side-to-side

movements began again. Eden recovered from her apparent

paralysis, and moved to Jonte's side.

"I think we're about to land," she said. "When we do, keep

behind me if you can, and I'll try to find a way to get you

hidden."

Jonte didn't think there was any chance of that happening.

"Where do you think we are?" he asked.

"We've been just over three hours," Eden replied. "Not the

Americas or China, then. Perhaps Africa; or the Mid-East; or still

in the Union in the north or east."

The transporter began to level off; there was a sharp bump;

the engine noise, together with the vibrations, stopped. At once

the transporter began to moving again, as if being driven down a

ramp. Jonte concluded that they had left the helicopter. After a

short period of smooth motion, they once again began to travel

over rough ground. Jonte saw Eden's eyes search the interior as

if looking for a window or crack; but of course there could be no

gap in the shielding. To know where they were they would have

to wait until they arrived, though that place would have to be

fully shielded too − that is, if whoever they were wanted Jonte

alive and well.

< 7 >

At last they came to a halt. Eden moved to the rear door and

signalled that Jonte should stand behind her. When the door

opened, Jonte saw at once that he had been right about their

destination. The transporter was inside a large, windowless,

dome-shaped hanger, the only lighting provided by suspended

neon strips. Three men faced them, one carrying a hand-gun of

some kind, another a large reel of adhesive tape. The third

silently beckoned Eden. It was possible they had not yet noticed

Jonte behind her.

Shouting "Run and hide…now!" Eden launched herself at the

man with the gun. She did not even reach the ground before

being struck by what turned out to be a taser. Jonte stood still at

the open door of the transporter, and looked down at the men. All

three had metallic grey European faces, close-cropped metallic

copper hair and were wearing nondescript over-suits without

identity panels or other markings.

The third man silently signalled to Jonte to leave the

transporter, pointing first to the man with the taser and then the

crumpled figure of Eden on the ground. The message was clear

enough. Jonte lowered himself from the rear of the transporter

and turned to take a better look at where he had arrived. He was

virtually certain that no immediate harm would come to him −not, at least, from the three in the welcoming party − given the

trouble taken to get him there.

He was only partly right. His hands were quickly taped behind

his back, a loop placed round his neck, and another strip attached

to it l ike a dog-lead. Two of the men then led him to a doorway at

the other side of the hanger, while the third, Jonte could just see,

was taping Eden's arms to her side and hobbling her legs at the

ankle.

Jonte and his escort reached the door, which one of them

opened. The other went though, pulling Jonte after him.


5 7/29/2013



*

As he quickly looked around, Jonte's first impression was that the

room they had entered was vaguely familiar: rather like the

medical centre to which he had been taken some years before.

After a moment's thought, however, Jonte realised that this was

bound to be the case. If Eden had not been entirely deceitful,

both the authority she belonged to and its competitors wanted

him in order to carry out some kind of medical research.

< 8 >

Still without saying a word, the third man led Jonte through

an archway into a weakly-lit passage, turned to another door,

opened it, and signalled that Jonte should go through. He did so;

and at once his lead was slipped, the tapes round his neck and

hands swiftly cut, and the door closed behind him. He hardly

needed to confirm that it was also locked.

Looking round, Jonte saw that the room was much like his

study/bedroom at the shelter − but of superior quality. Besides a

bed and washing area there was a comfortable-looking easy chair

and a low table; and one wall was almost entirely taken up with a

video screen, almost as large as the ones in the shelter

classrooms. A recess held a water spigot and a glass, besides a

bowl of the specially-grown, unmodified fruit which Jonte had

until now only experienced as special treat. This was not, Jonte

realized, a randomly-chosen prison cell. It had been prepared −

and that must have been some time in advance − for just him.

How did such long-term planning fit in with the abrupt move

to get him away from the shelter, and his guess that people were

after him as a result of some unexpected event?

*

The next few hours brought no answers. Nor did the next few

days. One of his three captors would silently bring his meals at

appropriate times. At first, he had expected that the large screenwould quickly provide him with information; but when he

switched it on all he received were instruction videos in his own

language, hardly different from those he would have been seeing

back in class. Once, he had been told, it had been possible to

access many hundreds of channels, sounds and pictures too, sent

out from anywhere in the world and without cable connections.

The radiation had ended that. Communications were now quite

difficult − almost, he had heard, at the level of the telegraph

systems existing two or three hundred years before.

Remembering what he had learned on the journey, he

expected at any moment to be taken for medical examination.

Nothing happened. As the days passed he began to feel in need

of some different surroundings, and also some company apartfrom the three silent men. What, he wondered, had happened to

Eden?

< 9 >

This started as a casual thought. Bit by bit, though, it grew

into something more: a question to which he really wanted to

know the answer, and then a plan of action. Instead of spending

day after day in one room, following school courses for anything

better to do, he would get out somehow and find the

psychologist. She would be able to go out into the open, and find

out exactly where they were. Then they could work out how to


5 7/29/2013



get home.

The best way to escape, Jonte thought, was to make sure that

the door could be unlocked after he had been brought a meal. He

knew a trick with a piece of cloth and a fork or knife which

worked on the simple locks on cupboard and bathroom doors in

the shelter. Fortunately the lock to his present room was virtually

identical.

He decided to try out his plan on the next day as soon as

breakfast had been delivered − the trick was to insert the cloth

before the door was fully closed. Nobody would be coming again

until lunchtime.

*

Jonte looked through the archway; and then back down the

passage in the other direction. It led to a dead-end. However,

opposite his own room, from which he had escaped without

difficulty was a second door of much the same type. Jonte tried

the handle, but it was locked. If he was not going to be trapped,

he would have to risk the medical centre.

Then he heard a sound coming from behind the door. He put

his eye to the keyhole and pulled back in surprise: a silver eye

was about to look through from the other side. A quiet voicesaid: "Jonte, is that you?" Then "yes, I can see it is."

He had found Eden at the first attempt!

"Are you all right? Can you get me out?" Eden went on.

"I'm OK," Jonte replied. "But I don't think I can open the

door." Then, after a pause, he realized he needed the answers to

some questions of his own.

< 10 >

"Do you know where we are?" he whispered. "And why are

they keeping us locked up? I thought you said they were going todo tests on me; but all I've had so far is school work."

"Listen," said Eden rapidly, "this is important. We're in the

Ukraine. They let me have some medical things with writing on

the packaging. So we're still in the Union. They seem to be using

you as a hostage to get whatever it is they want, and I'm

supposed to contact the authorities and put terms to them."

"What should I do?" Jonte asked.

There was a pause before Eden replied. "I think the best

thing," she eventually said, "is for you not to do anything rash.

I'm going to agree to get in touch with council headquarters; and

if I can let them know roughly where we are they may be able to

send a rescue team."

To Jonte, this did not seem very heroic. His first thought had

been somehow to steal a transporter and find help − admitted,

he had no idea how to drive; wouldn't, in any case, be able to sit

in an un-shuttered driving cab; and didn't speak a word of

Ukrainian. Then a second thought came to him: he had only a

few hours either to hide or escape, because the man coming to

deliver his lunch and take away his breakfast tray would discover

that he wasn't there. He could, or course, go back. But what

would happen when they found the door unlocked?

*


5 7/29/2013



Jonte cautiously slipped through the arch into the medical

examination room. Opposite was the door leading to the domed

hangar. At either end of the room were two more doors, both

shut, but with glass panels to see through. In the room itself

were various pieces of equipment, some display screens and

terminals together with a couch and racks of bottles, boxes and

small instruments.

Jonte decided to see what was beyond the doors with the

glass panels. He tiptoed to the one on the left and looked

through; then immediately retreated in alarm. Beyond the doorhe had seen what seemed to be a small conference or dining

room, and had caught a glimpse of about ten people sitting round

an oblong table. That was not the main reason he had run back,

however. The room had been lit, not by the artificial lighting he

was used to, but by direct sunlight coming through an

un-shuttered window.

< 11 >

He crept to the door on the right. Beyond was another

passage leading to a further door. The passage was lit by

low-power bulb; but the light coming from under the far door was

too bright to be artificial. There was no way out for him there.

That left the hangar, and the possibility of, perhaps, stowing

away in a shielded transporter. This time, his luck was in: beyond

the hangar door it was pitch dark. There was still time before

lunch, he calculated, to talk again with Eden, and perhaps work

out some joint plan. If it hadn't been for the fact they would find

him missing at lunch-time he could even have told her how to get

out when her own meal was delivered.

Then a solution occurred to him. He went back through the

arch and tapped on Eden's door.

*

Once again in his own room, Jonte sat with a dry mouth and thesound of his heartbeat loud in his head. The odds, he told

himself, were mathematically 50:50. But his instincts told him

they were probably better: they would serve Eden first. As the

usual time for lunch approached. Jonte put his ear to the door.

The sound of footsteps drew near and at first appeared to stop

just outside. Had he lost the gamble? But then Jonte heard the

key turning in the door opposite. If Eden could carry out the trick

with the cloth and a knife, they would have a few minutes to get

home free.

The footsteps receded down the corridor. There was a click.

Jonte opened his door and stepped into the corridor to see Eden

there on the other side. Rapidly he led through the arch and

across the still deserted examination room to the door leading tothe hangar.

Then it all began to go wrong. Jonte confidently pushed the

door wide open; but, instead of darkness, bright light from the

suspended neon strips illuminated the entire hangar. Beside the

parked transporter a group of men were sitting on a bench,

eating. Worse: in probably less than a minute the man with

Jonte's lunch would appear. Going back to their own rooms would

involve explaining why they were unlocked. They had only

seconds to take the remaining option: the door to the second

corridor.


5 7/29/2013



< 12 >

They listened as footsteps delivered Jonte's lunch, discovered

that he was not in his room and ran back to report. There was a

rush of other footsteps, and a short while later a loud shout, as −

presumably − Eden was also found to be missing. They probably

had only a minute or two before someone thought to look where

they were hiding.

"I suppose you'd better get out," Jonte said miserably."There's nowhere I can go now except back to my room. Do you

think they'd believe me if I said I'd been hiding under the bed?"

"No," Eden said. "Not when I'm missing too." Then: "besides,

you must come with me. I can contact the Council office in Kiev,

and they should be able to locate us before we're caught."

Jonte looked at Eden in disbelief. As soon as there was no

shielding from the sun's radiation he would quickly fall ill, and

probably die within days. Wasn't that what all this was about?

"But, Eden, you know I can't!" he cried out

All Eden replied, though, was: "Trust me". Turning, she

grasped the lever-handle of the door at the corridor's end;pushed it down; and pulled the door open. Raw sunlight poured

in. He threw his arms over his eyes and sank to the floor. Was

Eden trying to kill him?

The psychologist seemed unruffled. She bent down, put her

hands under Jonte's shoulders and lifted him to his feet.

"Here, swallow these," she said, handing Jonte three pink,

oval pills. "They'll keep you safe for a time. I'm afraid I've no

water, so you'll just have to get them down without." After nearly

choking on the first, Jonte managed to swallow all three.

"Now keep your arms over your eyes," Eden said, steering

him through the open door. "In a while, though, you'll be able to

take them away"

Jonte staggered forward into what he knew must be the

outside. He could feel the heat of what must be direct sunlight on

his head and hands, and waited for the expected harmful effects

to strike. How long before he burned up, or fell unconscious; or

died?

< 13 >

"Try to keep moving as fast as possible," Eden said, pulling

him along by one arm. "We're going to turn right. Then we need

to get over a fence, and make for some trees. See if you can look

directly now."

Jonte risked opening his eyes and glancing between his arms.

They were on a path beside the wall of a building, the corner of

which they immediately rounded. Ahead was the promised wire

fence − fortunately a low one − and beyond a strip of silver field

and then some woodland, which sparkled in metallic greens and

polished copper as the leaves moved in the breeze. It looked very

much like the countryside round the shelter which he had seen

through the screens.

By the time they reached the fence Jonte risked lowering his

arms completely, and was able to get over without difficulty. Eden

still held on to him as they ran across the field, but let go as soon


5 7/29/2013



as they reached the cover of the trees. They kept going for some

minutes to get completely out of sight, then stopped for a rest.

Eden said: "It's time I told you the truth."

*

"I'm sure you've been taught about the environmental crisis of

the mid-twenty-first century," said Eden: "the floods, the storms

and so on. But the worst, of course, was what no-one had

predicted: the rise in solar radiation. At first they thought it

would be enough to build huge shelters, or go underground; but

that didn't deal with the dying of the forests, the grass, the

animals − in fact practically the whole of the natural

environment."

"I've often wondered," Jonte broke in "what would have

happened if they hadn't made the changes."

"We would have become extinct," Eden replied shortly. "It's

been calculated that nothing would have survived much above

the level of bacteria."

Both remained silent for a moment. Jonte hadn't realized

until then how enormous a problem the people then had faced.

"Fortunately", Eden went on, "the science of biotechnology

was making great progress at the time; and you know what was

done. In a single generation, not just human beings, but plants

and animals too, were genetically engineered to live with the

higher radiation. It worked for most species − though not all" she

added, more to herself than to Jonte. "Actually, we probably lost

more than half the biosphere."

< 14 >

They had reached the crucial question.

"Why hasn't it work for me?" Jonte asked.

Eden paused again for several seconds before replying. "We

don't know," she eventually said.

"Perhaps you've wondered, Jonte," she went on, "why

everyday things we use like video-screens and transporters are

much the same as those you read about in history books? They're

not. They're worse, a lot worse. The Great Crisis caused huge

disruption, and resources had to be put into saving our and other

species. Did you know men were about to build a settlement on

the moon then, and even travel to the planet Mars? That had to

be abandoned. So did practically every other attempt at progress

in science or technology."

"And now, it seems", Eden concluded with a trace of

bitterness, "we've gone backwards. We can recreate the originalvegetation and most animals from seeds and zoos. But we can't

sequence the human genome any more, let alone change it!"

"Why do you need to?" said Jonte.

"Why do you think I let you come out here in the open?" Eden

responded. "Why do you think every science centre in the world

wants you? It's been kept from you in case you tried to leave the

shelter."

"Because the radiation is dropping, of course; in fact has

dropped so suddenly and so fast that it may soon be back to

where it was before the Crisis. In that case, we'll all be freaks,


15 7/29/2013



hopelessly unsuited to the environment. That is, all except you,

Jonte − you and your DNA."

*

Jonte found the walking among the trees an amazing experience.

Though he had of course seen scenes like it on the screens, they

were nothing compared to the reality. He could hear birds calling

from among the branches, and even saw a couple, their

varicoloured metallic wings catching the sunlight that filtered

down. If it was really safe for him now, he thought he wouldn't

mind staying outside.

< 15 >

After no more than ten minutes' walk, however, they came to

the other edge of the woodland. Looking out, Jonte saw a

complex of single-storey buildings on the other side of a sloping

field, with more trees beyond. Several small transporters were

parked along access roads, and every now and again someone

emerged from one of the buildings to cross over into another.

"I need to find a terminal quickly and contact Kiev," Eden told

Jonte. "You stay here and wait. It shouldn't take long if I can

make them understand. Then I'm afraid you'll have to get backinto a shelter: even with the radiation lower and the pills, you

shouldn't be outside for more than an hour or so."

Leaving the cover of the trees, she quickly crossed the field

and went to a side entrance to the nearest of the buildings. The

door opened and she disappeared inside.

After about half an hour, Jonte began to get anxious. Even

with the language problem, it couldn't take that long to get the

use of a terminal; and then, surely, she would come back or at

least signal him to join her? After an hour his anxiety had grown

considerably. He began to wonder what he should do: stay where

he was as Eden had said, or go down and find her?

Another half an hour passed. The sun he had feared so much

was falling below the horizon − a sight he watched, for the first

time, in some awe − and it was beginning to get both colder and

darker. Artificial l ights began to come on in some of the buildings

below. He had already been outside more than double the time

that Eden had said was safe.

Crouching down where he could behind tussocks of silvery

grass, now turning black in the dusk, he made his way cautiously

over the field to the nearest building. The side door was

half-open, with light coming from inside, and Jonte flattened

himself against the wall next to it to listen. He heard nothing.

Leaving the wall, he pulled the door fully open, and went inside.

A man was standing only a few feet away.

< 16 >

"Welcome back," said the Principal.

*

In the Principal's study, Jonte sat looking out of the now only

half-shuttered window. He had been out there only a few minutes

before, looking down at the shelter without recognizing it; but, of

course, he had never seen it from the outside before. The

Principal, on the other hand, had been able to see him coming

without difficulty − and, of course, Eden coming before him.


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"You have caused a lot of trouble," the Principal said. "And

that psychologist has been criminally irresponsible. We shall have

to give you a thorough medical examination as soon as possible."

"Is Eden all right?" asked Jonte.

"As well as can be expected," replied the Principal curtly.

"And what's going on? Why all this?" Jonte continued.

The Principal's silver-grey hands, which had been lying

twitching on the desk in front of him, became even moreagitated.

"Do you think I was going to allow those people down there to

take all the credit?" he said, as much to the room as to Jonte.

"When it's me, my team here, who have brought you up,

provided your special food, studied you, done all the basic

research? I suppose you know now what the situation is. We're

about to save the human race − and they want to close us

down!"

The Principal hands sank back to desk and he appeared to

calm down.

"You're bright," he resumed. "No doubt you've worked out by

now what happened".

Jonte had. The long journey in the transporter and the

helicopter had been intended to convince him that they had

taken him somewhere far away, whereas it had merely circled

back to where they had started. But why?

Then the answer came to him. He wasn't the one who needed

to be deceived. The long journey had been for Eden's benefit.

Once she was convinced they were in the Ukraine, she would get

a message through asking for help. No-one would guess that he,

Jonte, was back near the shelter.

< 17 >

Jonte said what he had deduced.

"Nearly," the Principal replied. "Actually there was no

helicopter. We couldn't have got hold of one anyway. But we did

find an old training machine that would simulate being in one;

that and a noisy engine." For the first time Jonte could

remember, the Principal smiled.

"So now, while the authorities are scouring the Ukraine −

yes, we arranged for your psychologist friend to get off a

message before she guessed where she was − I shall be left in

peace to complete the project," he said. "If we could only get the

equipment, it would be a matter of just months."

"What if you can't?" said Jonte.

This time the Principal did not reply. Instead he pressed a

button on his desk, and one of the school assistants, a woman

whom Jonte recognized, came into the study.

"I think it would be best if you went back to your old room

now," the Principal said. "Hanna here will take you."

It was not until he had been lying in his bed for about an hour

than Jonte began to feel sick.

*


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He knew immediately that he was back in the medical centre

from the smell. Looking round, he recognized the room from

which he and Eden had escaped, it seemed to him, only hours

before. The room was now full of people: three doctors whom he

recognized, two of the men who had served him meals, two

nurses….he looked for Eden, but she was not there. He found

that was loosely tied down to the couch and that a tube was

feeding something into his right arm.

Jonte remembered waking up in the night with a bad

headache, and then throwing up violently while trying to reachthe washbasin. He had then slept badly and been sick twice more

before the normal waking time. He had tried to get up, but had

felt disorientated and weak. The last he remembered after that

was falling backwards as he pulled open the study/bedroom door.

< 18 >

The doctors, together at one end of the room, were arguing.

One of the nurses noticed that Jonte was awake and quickly came

to the side of the couch.

"How do you feel?" she said to Jonte; and then to the doctors:

"He's round at last."

Jonte felt terrible, but said feebly: "OK, I think. What

happened?"

"You passed out," one of the doctors replied, checking Jonte's

pulse and smiling. "Don't worry; you probably ate something that

doesn't agree with you. You'll be all right."

The other two doctors, however, were not smiling. One looked

very angry.

"Wouldn't it be better to face the truth, Komar?" the angry

one said, his voice loud enough for Jonte to hear clearly. "Good

God, this is radiation sickness! No-one's treated a case like this

for more than a century. Have you any idea what to do?"

"The first thing is for you to be quiet!" the first doctor replied

in a harsh whisper. "We can handle this if we keep our heads."

The third doctor gave a discordant laugh. "If we can't, we'll

certainly lose them," he added.

"Let's discuss this outside," the first doctor responded; and all

three went through into the meeting room.

Jonte had heard enough to know that he was in very bad

trouble. For his whole life i t had been drummed into him that

going outside could prove fatal, and he had always taken care

never even to go into a room unless the windows were heavily

shuttered. Until the day before. Why had Eden done it? Why had

he believed her? To his shame, he found himself beginning to cry.

*

Jonte was not sure how long it was before open dispute broke

out. He still felt sick and weak, and remained tied down. Doctors

and nurses came and went, and from time to time angry shouting

came from the meeting room. Suddenly there was a commotion

in the passage from which he had left the building, and one of

the doctors and a nurse were violently pushed back into the

room. Following them were the two men who had been there

earlier; and following them, the Principal.


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< 19 >

"I'm taking over here," the Principal announced. "There will

be no question of calling in any outside help."

The doctor − the one who had laughed − got up from the

floor.

"And what will you tell them when Jonte dies?" he asked the

Principal.

"Jonte will not die," the Principal replied. "Dr. Komar assures

me he can handle it."

"If Dr. Komar told you that," the other said, "he's a bigger fool

than I thought."

So that's it, Jonte said to himself. Everything about being

special and being able to help save humanity is fantasy. Between

them, the Principal and Eden have condemned me to death.

He felt a new rush of tears coming.

And then chaos broke out. There was a loud explosion behind

the door leading to the hangar, some gunfire, and an amplified

voice demanding that arms be laid down. Simultaneously thedoor to the meeting room burst open, and the angry doctor,

accompanied by two orderlies, came in.

Behind them came Eden. Her silver-grey face was no longer

puffy, but gaunt and streaked with dirt, and her bronze hair was

dishevelled. At the same time she seemed somehow younger and

more forceful. She went up to the Principal.

"You are despicable!" she told him. "How did you think you

could get away with keeping Jonte to yourself? You've got no

equipment and no proper staff here. You could have damned us

all. Fortunately this doctor had the good sense to let me contact

the authorities."

She turned to Jonte. "How are you doing?" she asked.

Jonte looked at her through his tears. "I'm going to die," he

said. "Because you took me outside".

The room suddenly filled with more people: military personnel

in helmets, a number of those whom he had first seen in the

Principal's study before the journey. Everything seemed to have

turned out well…except that he was dying.

< 20 >

"Nonsense," said Eden. "You'll be perfectly all right once the

effect of the pills wears off. I'm sorry you had to go through all

this; but it was our insurance."

"Which worked just as well here as it would have in the

Ukraine," she added, turning to the Principal. "Even better, in

fact. − your people have no idea what radiation sickness is

actually like, do they?"

"On this occasion," she added, with an apologetic half-smile in

the direction of the doctor who had come with her, "Dr. Komar's

diagnosis was quite correct."

*

Jonte was extremely surprised to find that he would be staying in


15 7/29/2013



the shelter for at least a time. Eden − who appeared to be a

great deal more important than mere chief psychologist at the

Regional Institute for Human Research − explained that an inter-

regional agreement had been reached to provide samples of his

DNA to every research centre working on the retro problem. It

wouldn't hurt at all: as little as a hair or a swab of saliva from

him would do.

Meanwhile it would probably be better for him to continue his

education where he was, where his special needs could be met

and among people he knew. The Principal and a number of otherswould be gone; but the teachers and, of course, his

contemporaries, had not been involved.

Jonte felt a little let down. And then the thought came to him

that at least he would be able to get outside with the others at

playtime. He wouldn't need to watch every game through the

screens any more. Was it possible he might even be able to join

in…?

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fear no more by george anthony

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