Prometheus Falling

Chapter 2

Two

Place one foot after the other.

That’s it.

Her feet walked across the marble floor. Those looming, cold, perfectly white walls pressed in on her.

The smart home devices tried to create the illusion of comforting companionship by adjusting the temperature just to the right degree when she entered a room, turning on the coffee maker in the morning, and playing her favorite tune while the lamps switched on a gentle light.

It was the song of a Scottish bagpipe.

Rahab breathed in the air that was nowhere close to the fresh wind that blew across the highlands. It smelled hollow. The sun rose beneath the glass windows while she overlooked the city, as she had every morning for three months now. But when she closed her eyes, she saw Glencoe.

“Turn off the song,” she mumbled towards the muffled air. It was only torturing her.

Stop comparing every damn thing to your old life. It’s over.

Without touching the coffee, she got dressed and walked out into the street.

Place one foot after the other.

That’s it.

True, the electric cars reduced emissions here in the city centre of London. But it smelled of all kinds of street foods, perfumes, and people. The space seemed to get narrower with every passing day. Everything about this city reminded her of her old life as a teenager, a life she tried to return to like chasing a long lost ghost.

She pushed herself toward her morning classes in economics, classes she had started back then, before she’d fled with Caleb to the Outer Areas. She hated economics. She hated the rules and limits and walls they tried to press her into. Rahab felt like a monkey caged in a zoo. She smiled at that thought and took out a bottle, sipping water to drown out the piercing pain in her belly. City food had been messing with her stomach for weeks. She was used to natural ingredients, she figured. Maybe it was the stress, because she had been on and off the pills for weeks now. She wanted to scream, but took a deep breath instead. He was monitoring her all the time, she was sure of it. The CCTV cameras were constantly observing her. He could have hacked her lenses, traced her new RFID chip, installed cameras all over the apartment.

You are getting paranoid again.

The city had changed over the last ten years. It had gotten faster, livelier. Maybe she only had the impression because of the lenses. When she had left, they had just entered the market. Now, everybody was wearing them. And they interacted with everything—the passing people, LCD screens, shop windows. They constantly sent friend requests, comments, and news articles, and they reminded her of daily appointments.

Sarah Lit sent an invitation to the Fabric tonight, the display on her lenses showed.

Sarah was a fellow student. Rahab blinked longer than usual to erase the information. She had been avoiding clubs since she had become stranded back here in this sleepless city. Social media was annoying her. It seemed like there was no moment of calm, everyone was constantly posting everything—photos, invitations, updates. She had forgotten the pace this life demanded.

It was ridiculous to think she could just pick up where she had left. Be like one of her fellow students. Ten years had gone by, for the gods’ sake, ten years she could never erase.

Listen to yourself. What gods?

The day came and she ran on autopilot. She was not popular amongst the lady circles, she had never been. But now she was even reticent with the men. She was officially on her own. Attending the lectures was not even mandatory, and she had tried to stay in her apartment. But it drove her mad. The guilt. The thoughts. She had to do this, didn’t she? She had to protect Amber.

But what for, Rahab? To never see her again? To let her be raised into this same loneliness?

Pain spread inside her chest at the thought of Amber. At the thought of her children. Before her eyes could tear up, she shoved the thought away. Maybe she should take a pill when she got home.

It had gotten dark outside already. The last days of winter still covered the city. But there had been no snow this year. With lights on, London looked even more alive than during daytime. She crossed Oxford Street, full of commuters and shoppers, and she felt bombarded by the advertisement in her lenses and on the walls of buildings.

A city that never sleeps. It was alluring and disgusting at the same time.

She slowly approached a skyscraper and took the elevator to her apartment among the top floors. Once Adama’s apartment. Adama. His shadow was chasing her ceaselessly. She entered the living room with the marble tiles and the top-to-bottom glass windows, took off her jacket, and stormed into the bathroom to take off the stupid lenses. She wanted to be alone, although she was never alone now. How she longed for those long reclusive hunts in the woods, the solitude between the mountaintops.

Stop chasing ghosts.

And yet she couldn’t.

She looked over to the white pills on the kitchen counter, tempted to take them and forget. But how could she forget her own daughter? How could she ever want to abandon her? This was what the pills meant. Abandoning what she meant to her.

She looked across the living room, remembering how Adama had given her this book and kissed her hand before being led away by the police. The book.

She entered the bedroom and took out the black leather book from under the mattress. Paradise Lost. The whole book was a poem, written in old English that she found very hard to understand. In the back of it was a message from someone named John. But there was more.

A tiny little device that looked like an earpiece and had an on-switch at the back. A switch she had never turned. Why? Out of fear maybe.

What do you want, Rahab?

She squinted. Maybe she should finally go to a club and embrace this city for what it was—a fake freedom drowned in ecstatic experiences for days, weeks, and years on end. Maybe this was good after all? She would have, like in the old days. Except back then she had not been a mother. And though she found that this role still didn’t suit her like it did the other women in Area Three, she could not erase the feelings that came with it. She had become profoundly different.

Rahab turned the switch. More out of an impulse than anything else.

Nothing happened. She thought it might be broken, or had been caught up in the book by mistake. Her heart sunk—and only now she realized how badly she wanted out of this hellhole. She knew this device had been her safety net all along, a fantasy of escape. And if it wasn’t real…

A crackle. She turned and put the device close to her right ear. Another crackle. And then, a male voice spoke, very quietly.

“Rahab?”

She did not answer. This wasn’t Caleb or Adama; she would have recognized their voices instantly. But why did the person on the other end know her name? Was this a trick set up my Manasseh? A test?

“Rahab, is this you?”

She hesitated.

“Yes.” It was a mere whisper. Her hands shook.

“By the gods…” the voice whispered.

A long pause followed, as if the person on the other side had forgotten to breathe. “My name’s Björn. I’m a friend of Adama’s.”

At the mention of his name, her whole heart cringed.

Adama.

“Where…where are you? Are you alright?” he continued. His voice sounded overwhelmed.

She nodded until she realized that he could not see her.

“Yes…yes,” she whispered. The realization dawned on her that maybe Manasseh could hear her, too.

“Are you still in London?”

“Yes.” She whispered, lower.

“Listen carefully.” His voice was urgent. “I might have a possible way out for you. Do you understand? I can get you out of there.”

Björn stared numbly at the stones piled up to form the wall of his tiny hut. It suddenly felt hot inside, despite the fact that the fire in the far left corner was barely burning. Annie had lit an oil lamp to create more light on this dark winter afternoon. The hut was shabby and chaotic as always, cables and devices lying all around the tiny space, even on his bed. Luckily he was too shocked to be embarrassed, to even notice that it was the first time Annie had been inside his home.

Rahab had finally made the call.

When Adama had requested the earpiece several months before going to his certain death, Björn thought him a dreamer. Rahab had been manipulated by Manasseh into betrayal. Why even trust her? And now this thought would not let go. What if the beast was with her? He would not give away any information before he was certain that this was not a trick. But how could he be? At least the call was encrypted and untraceable.

“Where are you now?” Björn’s voice had lost its initial emotion and become calculating.

“In the apartment.”

“It’s probably wired. Slowly go to the bathroom and turn on the shower.”

No answer came. Just several seconds of crackling and silence, followed by a soothing white noise that sounded like running water to Björn. He looked over to Annie for the first time. She had bit her lower lip in tension, not uttering a single word.

“Are you alone?” Björn asked into the device.

“Yes.” Rahab’s voice was more confident now. She was probably afraid of being monitored herself. If she was not a traitor still, if this really was a call for help.

“Do you want me to get Caleb?”

“Caleb?” Her voice froze. He exchanged glances with Annie again. “No,” the answer came, terse and definite. “Why did Adama leave this here?”

“In case you wanted to get out.”

“How?”

Björn paused. Now came the interesting part. He hesitated for a few more seconds, fighting with himself whether he could really give her that information. Maybe it was a trick after all? Annie bent forward, so close that he could feel her breath tickling his ear, and his heart made an involuntary leap.

“It was his last request,” she whispered.

Of course she would make her case for Adama, the ghost she would never stop chasing. But how could he deny her, or even him? He owed it to his friend, and this debt weighed heavier than the possibility of endangering many. Björn nodded.

“You’ll have to find the digital underground. They’re the only ones who can get you out of there.”

Silence.

“How?”

“Put the earpiece into your ear and make sure you conceal it with your hair. Get dressed and leave the apartment.”

Turning on his huge laptop, Björn established a safe GPS connection. It would be hard with no internet out here. Hard, but not impossible. He started typing while numbers and commands appeared on the screen. Annie stared in amazement, and he felt like a superhero. His self-appointed retirement was over. “Once the shower is off, don’t speak, not in the apartment, not on the street, not until you get into a safe zone. I will navigate you all the way,” he continued. “Tell me your address now.”

And still, doubts nagged at his mind. Maybe this was a huge mistake after all?

Rahab turned off the button. She would switch it on at the front door, signaling that she had left the house.

Only when the device was completely silent did Björn notice how tense his whole body had grown, and he made a deep breath to relax.

“It’ll be alright,” Annie said, calming him with her soothing voice. “This was the right thing to do.”

Björn remained quiet, not sure about this.

“It could take a while,” she added.

“I hope it doesn’t. She might get second thoughts.”

Annie brought them some bread and ale while Björn researched Rahab’s location, trying to come up with the best way to navigate her through the city. He was very aware of Annie’s presence, despite the tension of the moment. Every time she came so close that he felt her clothes touching his skin, he suppressed the impulse to jerk back.

She sat down next to him, observing the hut tentatively for the first time. Now he felt uneasy. The space was chaotic, full of electronics half built, scattered all across the wooden floor. As if his soul lay stripped open before her. But she only smiled, small dimples decorating delicate cheeks.

“You’ll have to tell Caleb,” she said after letting out a deep breath.

He nodded, knowing that it would break him. It would awaken his demons. Maybe he would tell him after Rahab was on her way out of the city already? If she made it, that is.

He still shuddered when he thought about whom he was throwing Rahab to. Valaris. The underground leader at the stables. The woman evoked goosebumps, possessing the cunning genius of an ugly rat. She probably would not be very fond of Björn, who fled the underground to live in the Outer Areas years before. He had been her best programmer back then. Her golden boy.

“Why did you leave?” Annie suddenly asked, as if reading his thoughts.

He hesitated.

“Because I found out some things I didn’t like.”

He had followed Kaari into rebellion back in his teenage years. Still in Norway, the two of them had joined the Sub and travelled to the British Isles. But after she died…Björn took a deep breath. The memory of it still brought a foul taste to his mouth. After Kaari, he was looking for an alternative way to protest. He thought that the underground rebellion held the same values he and Kaari once sought.

“When I joined the underground, I still was looking for a way to change the world. Improve it. But the underground grew more criminal every year, which I refused to see at first. They expanded Silk Road—the marketplace on the dark net where anything could be bought. Bombs, weapons, drugs, contract killers…you name it.”

Annie observed him, wide eyed. He now saw how far away from his world she had lived, and strangely, he treasured her rare innocence.

“Later, I discovered that all the weapons the Sub possessed, all those bombs they used for their suicide missions, came from the underground.”

That very night, he had a terrible falling out with Valaris, realizing for the first time that the underground did not care about anything except for controlling information. Data stood above human lives. The same night, he had left for the Outer Areas.

“Is this why you joined Adama? To change the world?”

Björn waved off the question.

“I somehow refuse to outgrow my own foolishness.”

But Annie shrugged.

“I don’t think it’s foolish.”

Because you’re as naive as I used to be, he thought.

“Isn’t it why we all joined his rebellion?” he asked. It pained him to speak of it in past tense. He clearly remembered their victory march through Ireland, the sensation that had filled his chest while their boats defied the rebellious waves on their way back to Britain. All had gone downhill from there. All because of Rahab and her shameful betrayal. She had exchanged their lives for her daughter. Had it been a legitimate choice?

“Not me.” Annie replied.

Björn narrowed his eyes.

“Why did you join?”

She kept quiet for a moment, clearly regretting the heedless comment. Björn had an idea why, and he was torn between challenging her and not wanting to hear the truth. She smiled sheepishly and tried to keep herself from turning red.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “Maybe because of some stupid longing for adventure, maybe because I was afraid to end up like my mother.”

She lied, at least in part. It was because she had fallen in love with Adama. Björn had seen it clearly back then, and he still saw it now.

“I miss home,” she suddenly added, as if to herself.

The device buzzed and ruined the nostalgic moment. Björn threw their conversation aside, concentrating on the task ahead—to navigate Rahab though the city. It was hard without getting any feedback. He did not know whether he went too slow or too fast, but he tried to estimate the pace. She would need to get all the way across city centre, from Southwark to Camden. The fastest and most inconspicuous way was to take the underground. She embarked on the Northern Line. At least he hoped she did. The gateway to the hacker underground was Camden Market, one of the former horse stables hidden in the farthest corner of this crazy, hyper-stimulating bazaar. The Camden Stable Market was now a network of stable blocks, horse tunnels, tack rooms, saddler’s workshops, and a horse hospital converted to a busy center of commerce. Today, it featured a variety of food and weird fashion trends and provided a place for those who want to test cheap, on-the-edge-of-legal technology. The 200-year-old horse hospital was now the home of Proud Camden, a club, art space, and burlesque venue that attracted a switched-on crowd of urbanites hungry for alternative entertainment. But what most of them didn’t know: it also provided a door into the hacker underground, where beneath lay tunnels and rooms full of rebellious teenagers and hyperactive nerds who worshiped data above all.

“You walk all the way to your left once you see something that looks like a crypt with sales people out front.”

Entering through Proud Camden would be impossible for Rahab with the strict controls and the hundreds of eyes watching. But Valaris had taught Björn another secret passage once, one only intended for emergencies.

In the crypt, traders were selling all different kinds of cheap technological body enhancements—lenses that could enable ultraviolet sight, apps you could install into your brain connection to hack all kinds of games. Beta testings, prototypes, and cheap replicas were all available.

“In the far right corner, there’s a shop where they sell robots and action figures from Marvel.”

Björn still clearly remembered the image. The Camden stables were a sight no one would forget that easily—a mixture of useless toys and electronics, colors and shapes competing for your attention. A feast for the eyes of those who looked for more ecstatic experiences than the rest of the city could give them. The clientele looked accordingly. Annie would be overwhelmed with this place, Bjorn figured, but Rahab had grown up in the city and wouldn’t be as easily disoriented. Until she entered the underground, a world so completely different that it would shock anyone, like the Sub quarters did.

“On the right of the shop, there’s a metal door with a code. Look around before you enter, make sure nobody’s watching you. The code is: 77891672. Got it? Now slowly, push the door open and slide in. Once it’s closed, we can talk.”

He thought he heard the squeaking of metal.

“It’s pitch dark in here.” Rahab’s voice trembled. For the first time it occurred to him that this was not an easy task, and she was putting her life into his hands, the hands of a stranger.

“Your eyes will adjust soon.” He modified his tone to sound more sympathetic. “There should be a longish corridor, just walk right down.”

“What is this place?” There was a strong echo to her voice, and the tremor seemed to grow with every step. The corridor must have been unused for years now other than by rats and all kinds of other creatures.

“It’ll be alright. Just walk down the hall, and take a right.”

Suddenly, the device went completely quiet. Too quiet.

“Rahab? Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a crackle. Panic rose in his throat, for her sake.

“Rahab?”

His voice trembled. He couldn’t lose the connection now. He would throw her to the lions without any help, any navigation. He had carefully prepared a text he would pitch to Valaris once Rahab was inside. But what would Valaris do to her without Björn’s intervention? He swallowed. Not a single sound came from the other end.

He had lead Rahab into one of the most dangerous places in the city.

And now she was completely on her own.