We Float Upon a Painted Sea

Bull ran towards where he saw the old man standing by the edge of the cliff. When he arrived at the spot he found only a dishevelled sheep trying to find fresh blades of grass. He asked the sheep if he had seen an old man. What with the strange goings on, it’s worth a try, he thought. The sheep stared at him blankly. Bull walked along the cliff until he came to an outcrop shaped like a giant’s finger extending over the ocean and pointing towards the sky. Bull approached it and sat down. He ran his hands through the grass then plucked a small blue flower. It had been a long time since he had been acquainted with any natural entity other than the marine variety. He heard a small voice behind him.

“I would offer you a cigarette but I smoked my last one yesterday.”

Bull turned and saw Saffron standing on the fingertip of the protruding cliff edge, her dreadlocks blowing in the wind. He looked at her incredulously and with a painful smile he replied,

“I’ve given up.”

“Good for you. It takes a great deal of will power.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“We all have a choice.”

“No, I actually didn’t. I left my cigs on the ship. Sometimes your choices are determined by other factors out with your own control.”

“True.”

“Why don’t you come away from the edge of the cliff, Saffron?”

“This is the Lover’s Stone. I thought it was an appropriate place to meet. I’m perfectly safe.”

“I see you’ve taken to wearing shades?”

“I need them to see in your world.”

“You’re a hallucination aren’t you? I’ve been having a few recently.” Saffron climbed down from the Lover’s Stone and said softly,

“Come with me, there’s something I need to show you.”

They crossed Claigeann Mor to find the path over Mullach Geal and towards the military cabins and the communications station. Bull held out Saffron’s Peruvian hand knitted alpaca hat and said,

“It’s getting cold. You might want to put this on.” Saffron smiled,

“You hold onto it for now.”

………………………..

McIntyre had returned to the cleit. He was alone and then from outside he heard the footsteps. He receded into a dark corner, becoming as one with the cold, damp stone of the cleit. He could now detect multiple shadows moving around the entrance. He covered his mouth with his hand, convinced his deep breathing would give away his location, but there was nothing he could do about the drumming noise his heart made in the cavity of his chest. No discernible words came forth from the dark figures but he could hear the sounds of assault weapons being primed. It wouldn’t be long before he was exposed.

A torch light shone through the darkness. He knelt down and picked up a rock and gestured to throw it at the first head appearing through the cleit entrance. If I go out, I’m not going without a fight, he thought. He heard the shuffling of feet and then someone approached. He launched the rock which found its target with aplomb. A loud painful screech came from the falling figure. The torch fell to the ground and span round to illuminate a face which he recognised as belonging to Andrew. He was clutching his head. McIntyre exclaimed,

“Andrew? I’m sorry.” Seven Elves arrived with their weapons pointed at McIntyre and then Itaridlë, Lúthien, Erurainon and Inwë joined them from behind. Itaridlë ordered the other Elves to lower their weapons. Andrew was nursing his head and unstable on his feet, but McIntyre put his arm around his shoulder to steady him. He said,

“Are you alright man?” Andrew sounded groggy. He replied,

“Why did you hit me with a rock you big ape?”

“Come on, it was more of a pebble. I couldn’t find any rocks. How did you escape?”

“I didn’t intend on escaping but then this lot arrived. They also captured some Marines, tied them up and marched them up here. They assured me they would come to no harm. I think we’re in a whole lot of trouble. I felt safer in the hands of the Navy.”

“They are not the Royal Navy, Andrew. I’m not sure who they answer to. They look and act more like a private army to me.”

The Elves had gathered around the graphics display tablet and were in deep discussion. Andrew tried to listen in to the conversation, but the hushed tones disintegrated into inaudible mutterings. He did detect a debate over whether they could trust Professor Burke’s informant. McIntyre told him, according to the Professor’s last communication, his contact would be on a military vessel called the HMS Cumberland, which had been dispatched to the Outer Hebrides. Finally, they decided McIntyre would leave the cleit and take the captured marines to the village and wait.

Andrew felt uneasy at McIntyre’s departure. Before he left, McIntyre told him if he was captured with escorting military prisoners, he might be tried for treason, so staying with the Elves was a better idea. When he returned they would find Bull and get off the island. Itaridlë turned to the others and informed them there was no alternative other than someone boarding the military vessel and passing the microchip to the Professor’s contact. She stated,

“Taking a boat out to the ship is not an option, so it would need a strong swimmer.” To her surprise, Andrew stepped forward and volunteered.

“I was in the Territorials,” stated Andrew.

“You said before, but you also said you were an accountant at heart.”

“Accountants don’t have hearts,” he replied. Itaridlë smiled. Inwë turned to Andrew and said,

“Itaridlë is right, they’ll be keeping a lookout for a boat. They won’t expect someone to swim out to the ship, so there’s a good chance of success. When you arrive at the ship, stick this magnetic laser marker to the hull, so we know you got there safely.” Andrew took the device and nodded. Itaridlë said,

“It’s nearly night fall, it’s the best time to sneak onboard the ship and get yourself arrested. Ask to see the Commander of Operations and tell them you have information regarding Professor Burke. If the Professor’s mole is onboard the ship, he will make contact. Give him the microchip. If not we will have no alternative. We will sink the ship.” Inwë, staring at his tablet stated,

“There’s something not right here. The last email is a week old. A lot could have happened in that time. What if the Professor’s contact isn’t even on the ship? According to these files, the control site was an oil rig and not a ship. The shot was delayed so who is to say the control site hasn’t moved somewhere else. We could be sending this man to his death for no reason…” Lúthien interrupted,

“The correspondence clearly states the Professor’s contact would be on a Navy vessel and the ship out there in the bay is most definitely a stealth corvette, a tactical communications vessel with satellite synchronization capabilities.” Inwë moaned,

“I’ve already told you, this system doesn’t link to satellite communications. The satellites are only for surveillance so the ship in the bay isn’t necessarily the command and control centre just because it has satellite interface capabilities.” Lúthien growled,

“We can’t take the chance. We have to go on the information we have. Someone has to board it. We’re wasting time and we don’t have much time left. As soon as the satellites come back online they will launch an assault on this island, the corvette will take off and the wave will finish everything else off, so if you’re quite finished Inwë? Andrew, you better get into the dry suit.” Inwë stared at the ground, his face flushed with frustration. Itaridlë placed the microchip inside a tooth cap and then asked Andrew to open his mouth. She inserted the cap over one of his molars. She looked into his eyes, searching for hesitancy and said,

“McIntyre must have bashed your head good with that rock. Are you sure about this? You don’t have to go through with it. You don’t have to prove anything. Do you have a family waiting for you back home? There’s still time to reconsider? I will tell them you suffered from a sudden attack of bravado.” Andrew was struggling with the dry suit. Itaridlë helped him. Andrew said,

“My mind is already made up. For the first time, I’m beginning to see things clearly. This is something I need to do. To atone for mistakes of the past.”

They waited for darkness. The sun seemed to glow for an age behind the clouds, spreading across the horizon and then it was time for Andrew to take his leave. He made his way along a path and down to a rocky outcrop at the edge of the bay. Andrew waited, gazing at the lights on the ship until darkness was complete. He dropped into the sea and began to swim. Through infrared binoculars, Inwë watched his progress as he swam through the water. Then Andrew drifted out of sight. Inwë’s heart began to race when he saw a military gunboat come into view.

At first, Andrew had powered his way through the cold sea, then half way to the ship his arms and legs began to tire. He was unusually breathless and he wondered if the fatigue was a result of all the punishment his body had taken after the sinking of the Andrea Starlight. The darkness was settling around him. Swallowed by a feeling of loneliness, he began to doubt his own courage, but when he passed the damaged Mother Earth and the destroyed Green Movement speedboat, he found his resolve. He was drawing closer and could even make out the name of the ship. The HMS Cumberland. He made his way round to the stern, keeping an eye out for marines, and then, from behind, he heard the sound of a jet propulsion engine coming closer. Andrew’s body went rigid with terror. The first bullet whizzed over his head. It was a sound he had become familiar with since an early age, hunting deer and grouse on his grandfather’s estate. He arched his body to dive under the surface of the sea for cover.

Andrew tried to plunge deep into the darkness, his arms pulling himself under and his legs kicking back with all the force he could muster but the dry suit hampered his descent. And then the second bullet found its target. Hot metal burst through his ribcage, penetrated his lung and exited the other side. Andrew’s body went into a violent shock. He waited for a blinding pain to follow but nothing. Still holding his breath, he tried to dive deeper but another bullet hit him in the back. Andrew was paralysed. Numbness engulfed him but he could detect the sensation of cold sea water flooding his survival suit. His body turned and rose upwards and through his flickering eyes, he could detect the spot lights of the gunboat darting around on the surface of the ocean.

Curiously no panic beset his mind and the last few seconds of consciousness were spent in a serenity the like he had never experienced. He thought of his children and Ashley and in his minds eye, he could see himself pushing the children on the garden swing and her broad smile when he failed to notice the swing return and hit him on the head. The sun had been shining, it had been warm and for a change it hadn’t been raining. Andrew saw a powerful light shine from above and his weightless body rose towards it. He closed his eyes and his mind went blank.

On the island, the Elves gathered at the edge of the cleit to watch one of the Prophylaxis Trident spy satellites catch the reflection of the sun on the illuminated side of the Earth. It appeared like a distant star, only moving with relative speed across the night time sky. Inwë came rushing towards them.

“Anything from Andrew?” said Itaridlë.

“Nothing. He hasn’t attached the magnetic laser marker to the ship’s hull. A gunboat was heading directly for him so it’s not looking good. Worse still, the satellites are coming back online, any time now. There was activity in the bay. They are preparing to attack,” replied Inwë catching his breath. Lúthien grabbed Itaridlë by the arm and said,

“We can’t wait any longer. We’re exposed and escape will soon be impossible. We need to make a move back to the boats while we can. The best form of defence is attack and we still have the advantage. We are small and can move with speed.”

Itaridlë pulled her arm away and her face flashed with a curious sentiment. She beckoned all the Elves to their feet and said,

“The game’s up. The plan to upload the virus has failed. We need to move out. Our sole objective is now getting Professor Burke’s story exposed to the world before they cover this atrocity up.” Inwë spat on the ground and looking up from the digitalised screen he said,

“The satellites are back online. We’re too late. They’re going to find us and kill us.”

Itaridlë commanded the Elves to put on their night vision goggles and take a path leading to the village where McIntyre would be waiting with one of their boats. She and Lúthien would create a diversion so they could make their escape. Inwë and Erurainon led the remaining Elves from the cleit and into the darkness. From above, they became aware of a pulsating humming noise. A sensation of rising pressure was detected in their chests and the movement of air around them became noticeable. When they looked up they were blinded by lights beaming down from the undercarriage of a military transporter hovering above their heads. They ran for the path and then found cover behind the rock outcrop and waited to open fire.

They could see the silhouette of terra-drones and Marine Corps dropping to the ground and heading towards them. The military attack squad doubled back when they heard the sound of gunfire coming from the direction of the cleit. Inwë motioned to the Elves to be still and they crouched close to the ground waiting for four attack drones to fly over. They scrambled around in the dark, trying to find the path for a few minutes, but at long last they reached the other side of the island where they stopped to catch their breath. The bay was silent and in the moonlight they could see McIntyre sitting on the jetty, sharing a cigarette with one of the captured marines. McIntyre stood up when he saw the Elves running towards him. When they arrived he said,

“Are you alright? I could hear gunfire in the distance. Where are the others?” Inwë exchanged glances with McIntyre and still panting he said,

“The satellites came back online. Then the Marines attacked. Lúthien and Itaridlë created a diversion so we could escape. There was fighting. I don’t know what happened. We need to escape before the wave arrives.” Inwë gestured towards the captured marines, “What about this bunch? What do we do with them?”

“We kill them of course,” replied McIntyre, picking up a rifle. Inwë’s face turned ashen white and then McIntyre smiled and added, “I’m only joking. We let them go. They were told a number of their comrades were killed by the ELF. I’ve put them straight and told them no one died. It was all lies.” McIntyre returned their weapons which he had decommissioned and the marines were set free. McIntyre suggested they reached high ground if they couldn’t find their platoon and then he watched as they melted away into the darkness. He asked about Bull and Inwë told him the last time he was spotted, he was walking towards the Radar Station and hopefully out of harms way of the impending wave. McIntyre was eventually persuaded to leave Bull behind and board the Elf boat. They sped off into the open sea and to the mainland.

…………………………………………….

Bull stopped. He gazed up towards the grass covered hill towards the summit of Conachair. The island glowed red in the sunset. He said,

“I can’t believe the military tried to trash this place. It’s beautiful here isn’t it?” Wasn’t it a UNESCO World Heritage Site?”

“It was and then the shale extraction industry and the military messed it up and it lost its status, but it’s still beautiful.”

“From the sea these islands put the shits up you, but when you are on the land, the tranquillity is overpowering.” Saffron retraced several steps and stood in front of him.

“You haven’t lost your ability to wax lyrical have you? You’re the John Cooper Clarke of St Kilda.”

“He was from Salford, like me.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I said it.” Bull took a deep breath.

“This beauty is worth protecting. I’m just sorry it has taken so long to open my eyes. Away from this wilderness you become consumed with all life’s arcane problems and our hearts have detached from what truly matters. There comes a time when we have to make a stand for something which is worth saving. We can’t allow everything we hold dear to be destroyed by mankind’s insatiable greed.” Bull congratulated himself for remembering an interview on the Discovery channel with a Cree tribal leader from Alberta whose community had been devastated by the shale oil industry. Saffron looked into Bull’s eyes and said,

“You got your speech from a documentary didn’t you? I watched it too.” Bull nodded his head sheepishly and then said,

“So much has happened recently and it’s confusing, but my eyes have been opened. I’ve had time to consider my beliefs and feelings while being marooned on the life raft. I realise how fragile we are and how easy it is to get caught up in the small and insignificant problems when there are more crucial things at stake.” Saffron smiled. She sat down and picked a blue liverwort flower and rotated it between her thumb and forefinger. Bull’s eyes were transfixed by the spinning flower to a point where he almost felt hypnotised. Saffron broke the spell by saying,

“It’s better when you say it in your own words rather than reciting another, but I understand. We all follow our own path but along the line we come to a junction and need to make a decision.”

“I’ve missed your metaphors Saffron.”

“I’ve missed your bullshit!” Bull smiled and then swallowed deeply. His voice became brittle.

“I’m sorry about your father. One of the Elves told me he was on the Andrea Starlight when it sunk and he was the unconscious man we thought was called Malcolm on the life raft.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Saffron interrupting, “You’ve been through so much lately. Not to sound heartless, but my natural father was never part of my life. I never truly knew him.” Bull stretched his hand out to comfort Saffron, but she pulled away. Bull said,

“Are you still upset about me lying to you? I want to explain. I want to tell you everything.”

“All in good time. Come on, we need to keep moving.” Bull contemplated how his actions, single mindedness and warped logic had brought his life to a standstill, and had brought pain to others. He desperately wanted to explain his feelings to Saffron, how he had been blind and had led a self-absorbed existence, but ultimately he had unravelled the complexity of his life after coming to terms with his faults. He wanted to explain to her doors in his mind had been opened and she had shone a light in. She had helped him conquer his myopic view of the world. He wanted to describe the revolution and subsequent coup d’état occurring within his cognitive process. He would declare his brain was under new management. Saffron started walking again and Bull followed. She said,

“The beard suits you. It makes you appear more…”

“Intellectual?” offered Bull rubbing his chin and grinning.

“I was going to say masculine. And you’ve lost weight since I last saw you. What’s your secret?”

“I discovered this new diet where you get marooned on a life raft for several days and eat only raw fish and dried prunes.”

“You poor thing, this must be awful for you.”

“Yes, but it’s over now, isn’t it.” Saffron stared at him sympathetically. Bull wanted to look into her eyes again, but all he could see was his own reflection in her visor. He continued to follow her until they reached the Radar complex. There were several cabins dotted around the site but Saffron headed along a gravel path and towards the largest one. Bull stopped to take in a final view of the scenery. He breathed in the salt air and studied the darkening island sloping towards the cliff, his eyes finally settling on the island of Boreray in the distance. He picked up Saffron’s trail leading to the cabin. Saffron switched on a light and a laboratory illuminated. Bull said,

“Why did you stay on the island? Why didn’t you escape?”

“I got off the ship just in time before the wave struck. Most of the crew followed me, but when the MoDs showed up they were taken into custody. I managed to escape, with some assistance from the local islanders. They wanted to smuggle me back to the mainland on a Lobster boat, but I decided to stay on the island, and with their help I’ve been hiding out in cleits and abandoned cottages. When they evacuated the islanders, I was upset and decided to give myself up. I walked up to the military communications installation but found it abandoned. And then I came across this research laboratory.”

“Why have you put yourself in so much danger?”

“I couldn’t leave when I found out they were planning another wave. I couldn’t let them get away with it again. I need to upload all this data. It’s almost done. Then I will leave.” Saffron examined the markings on a control panel. She said, “Before he was taken, my father was working on a computer virus capable of disabling the prophylaxis trident satellites. The authorities have been trying to acquire the virus, but it’s been under their nose all this time.”

“I know, the Elves have the virus. They can help. They know about you. They said they know you as the Praying Mantis.”

“The ELF have been led to believe they have the virus. They don’t. I’ll explain later.”

“Saffron, before you say any more, there’s something I need to tell you. I have to explain some things. It might come as a shock.” Saffron swallowed hard and then said,

“I know what you are going to say, let me make it easier for you. You are a MoDs filter. Three years ago, you were sent to spy on me because of the Government project my father was working on.” Bull’s eyebrows narrowed and then he buried his head in his hands. He said,

“It’s true, but I didn’t know about your father. I didn’t even know he existed. I don’t work for them anymore, you do know that don’t you? They threatened my family, they said they would destroy them if I didn’t cooperate. They said all I needed to do was get to know you, nothing more. I think they believed you were involved with an eco-terrorist group, but the deeper I got the more I realised it was all lies. You helped me see. I didn’t mean to hurt you, or lead you on. How long have you known?”

“I’ve always known.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“I hacked into the MoDs mainframe about three years ago and extracted a list of filters. You were on that list. I was asked to make you an object of desire and feed you useless information.” Bull put his head back in his hands and thought back to when he had met Saffron at Kelvingrove Park in Glasgow and how the process had coalesced so swiftly. Initially his intentions were to locate Saffron and join her environmental group, and over time, try to get to know her intimately. Paradoxically it was he who had been cursively written into her plans, not the other way round. Hadn’t Deirdre even suspected something, he thought. She had said he and Saffron were a mismatch. Bull said,

“So it’s true, you’re a hacker? The Praying Mantis? I thought you didn’t like monikers? Why didn’t we have this conversation three years ago? We could have worked our secrets out.” Saffron cast her mind back to the day she had volunteered for the job, thinking she could handle the pressure and keep up the charade, but she had got lost along the way. Finally she said,

“You’re right, if only we had this conversation sooner, Faerrleah.”

“Even though you knew who I worked for?”

“To be honest, at first I couldn’t bear to touch you. The first night I had sex with you made me wretch.”

“Was it the grunting piggy noises? It has been mentioned before.” Saffron laughed,

“No, only because of who you were. A filter. It became obvious your heart wasn’t in it. Prior to the MoDs arresting our filters, they were telling us that no information was coming in from you.”

“I don’t think you fully understand Saffron. I wasn’t supposed to send information to the MoDs. That’s not how it worked. You get sieved.”

“I know now. They conduct a brain scan - a FMRI, a functioning magnetic resonance imager. It scans the hippocampus and produces neural-images you have collected over the years.”

“I don’t think what’s left in my brain would be much use to them - I drunk so much alcohol after you left me it went to mush. I still can’t figure out why you left. I thought it was because of Maurice, but Aisha told me…”

“Aisha? When did you see Aisha?” Saffron refocused and her voice was cold and unemotional. Bull said,

“It was about a while after you left. She came round to the narrowboat for dinner.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Well, I think I might have tried to…”

“That’s not what I mean. Aisha is a filter just like you. She was turned when she got back from Rome. They got to her partner. She’s also now on the list. If she was on the narrowboat then…”

“What?”

“How long did she stay and what did you do? I need to know everything.”

“We drank, well I drank and she sniffed vodka and some herb from a glass bowl and then I tried to kiss her.”

“And then what happened?”

“She slapped me and left. Later, I tried to find the empty glass bowl which was rolling around on deck, but I ended up falling into the canal.”

“Were you ill?”

“I banged my head and I might have lost a couple of days somewhere. That reminds me, I finally met your mother. The following day she came round to the narrowboat to pick up some of your stuff. She said she didn’t know where you were and asked if I knew.” Saffron shook her head,

“You’ve never met my mother, Faerrleah. You just think you did. It wasn’t her.”

“I did meet her, she looked just like her photograph.” Saffron became reacquainted with their predicament. She was momentarily distracted when the control panel sparked into life. She started reading a digital file on the visual display. Eventually, she said,

“You’ve already been sieved Faerrleah, but I didn’t realise Aisha had anything to do with it until now. It doesn’t change things.” Bull shot her a quizzical look and then he rubbed his head with splayed fingers. He began to breathe heavily. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to handle any further mysteries. His heart began to race. Saffron continued reading and without looking up from the visual display, she said,

“Try to remain calm. Your heart rate and blood pressure is up.”

“How do you know that?” Saffron ignored Bull’s question and said,

“It must have been after you fell into the canal. That would account for Aisha being there and you thinking you had lost time and the subsequent hallucinations. We got wind of your type, but I never thought you were one until I took a blood and semen sample. We thought this technology was years down the line.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Saffron. What type?”

“The bastards didn’t tell you. They call you SELF’s.”

“What’s a SELF?”

“A Synthetically Engineered Life Form. I’m sorry, Faerrleah. I didn’t realise you were unaware. I thought they would at least tell you before sending you out into the field. The others don’t know either I take it?” Bull moaned,

“What others. I don’t understand. You need to explain. I can’t read, my eyes can’t focus in this darkness.” Saffron explained,

“You were part of a nano-scale engineering and genome manipulation project. I think the best way to describe you is a de novo human – it started out way back at the beginning of the century. Scientists were creating synthetic viruses in laboratories but the technology developed and soon they were manipulating human cells using nanotechnology. They were supposed to be using the technology to process protein-based drugs for the fight against hemorrhagic viruses, Alzheimer’s disease and cancer, but the military took over the research and the bastards replicated the synthetic DNA of a human, but where human’s have a restricted genetic alphabet, the SELF subjects have genetically expanded alphabets making them superior.”

“What’s superior about me?” said Bull, his breathing getting heavier.

“They used you for undercover surveillance rather than military operations. According to your file your cells heal faster than normal and you have olfactory abilities to detect pheromones, so you can tell when people are lying. That would explain why you always sniff people. I think you were destined to conduct interrogation. You were a new prototype - not the finished article. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say... You lacked sufficient levels of aggression.”

“It’s alright,” stammered Bull pitifully, “I’m not digesting most of this anyway.”

“You started to malfunction and rebel against your genetic programming, even before I met you.”

Bull looked at Saffron through glazed eyes. His mind was finding the revelations incomprehensible. Her words were indigestible to his brain. He wanted to embrace her. He had fantasised about this moment for a long time but he felt a strange tingling sensation in his brain. He wanted nothing more than to hold her and bury his throbbing head in her hair. He staggered towards her. Saffron said,

“I don’t think touching me is a good idea right now. You best stay back Faerrleah.” Bull proceeded, but a humming noise rattled the metal cabin.

“Another surveillance drone,” said Saffron. Bull stumbled around repeatedly saying, I don’t understand. Saffron could see he was becoming distressed and confused. She wanted to calm him down. Finally, the drone left and the noise abated. Saffron said,

“What are your first memories Faerrleah?” Bull’s head twitched erratically. He found it difficult for his eyes to focus on anything.

“Eh?”

“Your first memories, what were they?”

“The beach I suppose, playing in a rock…” Saffron interrupted, describing the scene before Bull could finish his sentence,

“Playing in a rock pool and then getting cut off by the tide?” Bull nodded his head saying,

“How did you know? Have I told you this before?”

“No, it’s all here. They’re memory implants. You all have the same memories up until you were placed with foster parents.”

“I found out I was adopted. It’s funny, I kind of knew they weren’t my real parents but Patrick and Deirdre…”

“They are still your family. Nothing changes in that respect. They still see you as a brother. Not biologically speaking but it takes more than a set of genes to make a family.”

“So I don’t have any parents. I was just grown in a fucking lab, like meat.”

“As I said, there are others like you – you’re not alone.”

“How many?”

“Literally, an army of SELFs. Not all were created for the military, some were developed for Intelligence, space exploration, satellite maintenance, radioactive and chemical decontamination - all the dangerous jobs, needing someone with a particular genetic code designed to adapt to certain conditions, but still an expendable workforce.”

“Where are they?” Saffron fumbled with the control panel and finally hundreds of 3D images appeared, suspended in midair – faces with an individual serial number. Some of the images flashed with the word terminated emblazed across it.

“These are the SELFs, like you, working in surveillance. It was only when I found this place, after the wave had struck, and the military had been evacuated off the island, that I realised the extent of their project.” Saffron turned back to the file and read some of the details out loud, filling in the blanks as best she could. Bull stood in silence watching the digital images of strangers faces flick by. He said,

“Just numbers – no names.”

“They didn’t usually give names until they were fostered out, but according to the file they labelled you Bull, probably because your incubation was completed in the month of May. I think one of the scientists must have taken a shine to you. It might explain why you weren’t terminated. After analyzing the data from digital surveillance, they realised you had turned. According to this file you told your brother Patrick about the IMAGEN programme. A decision was taken to bring you in shortly after. I’m reading as fast as I can but the process you went under was something called Neuroinformantics – acquiring data from brain scans or what you referred to as sieving. I need to come out of this data set and access your scans.” Before Saffron exited the database, Bull saw a familiar face. He asked Saffron to stop and flick back. He said,

“Go back. Yes that image. It’s Sherlock!” Saffron returned to the three dimensional display and pulled out a digital file. She read out loud, “Andrew D. U. Holmes. He was a SELF and a filter. One of the original ones like you. He was also deployed in surveillance.”

“There must be some mistake.”

“No, this is his file but it’s marked terminated. He’s dead. I’m sorry, was he your friend?” Bull nodded his head. Andrew already felt like a ghost to him. He tipped his head back expecting it to rest against the wall. He felt nothing. He considered Saffron’s words. None of them had made any real sense to him. Part of him still believed he was still suffering a hallucination. His world was beginning to empty. What remained had shrunk around him.

“So if you die in the programme, they switch you off permanently,” he said mournfully. “What about Mac? Robert McIntyre?” Saffron flicked through the digital files. Finally, she said,

“He’s here too.”

“Is he terminated?”

“No, he’s still active. He’s also one of the original SELFs. Interestingly, someone recently accessed his file. There’s an anomaly. He’s was given an unscheduled sieve. He was already living on St Kilda so this doesn’t tie in with their procedure which is to sieve you and then transport you here. I will extract his scan just in case he is connected.”

“What about the Elves? Are they in a programme?”

“They are all here. Your programme is called Painted Sea. There’s a file on my father. His neural-scan is also here. Someone has also accessed his file. There is a system error on his log. The bastards deliberately uploaded a zombie virus to his file.” Saffron read the data and then continued,

“The Elfs would appear to be part of Professor Burke’s, sorry, my father’s programme. His was called Savage Elf, but after extracting all the information they could, they transferred him and the elfs into Painted Sea. It would appear they do a lot of transfers, mixing up the programmes and seeing what new data comes out. Reading my father’s file, it looks like they were trying to identify the source of a major security leak, linked to the Silent Wave project. I’ll check the other associated files for viruses. McIntyre’s file was also moved to your programme, but with a patch. There are no signs of viruses but there’s a data entry in your friend Andrew’s file. They mistakenly corrupted his programme with another which was operating for other filters, but without a patch. A cross over. That must have been disturbing for him.”

“Why?”

“It would be like seeing a ghost or having a vision.”

“So all the stuff in the life raft was part of a virtual programme? The ferry sinking, losing Malcolm in the storm and the lifeboat were all a fantasy, and if I’m to accept what you say, I have never actually met, well not in real life anyway, Andrew or McIntyre or Malcolm, sorry Professor Burke who coincidently is also your father. And those Elves aren’t real? That’s a relief. Are pixies real?” Bull forced a pitiful laugh. Saffron induced a smile and said,

“Pixies are definitely real.” Saffron paused. She looked at Bull’s troubled face and grimaced. Finally she said, “Everything you’ve been through has been part of the programme they designed to test you, to manipulate parts of your mind they were unable to probe in the scan. You were never actually attacked by sharks or circled by killer whales.”

“How did you know about being attacked by sharks? I haven’t told you yet. Ok, I see, it’s part of the programme.”

“Correct, it’s all here in your file.”

“And what about the Earth Liberation Front?” Saffron closed all the open files. She said,

“I can’t say too much about the ELF. This conversation will be logged in your programme, but yes, they do exist. The MoDs have long been aware of an environmental paramilitary group called the ELF. When my GM crew were boarding a Gazprom rig in the Arctic we came under fire from a Russian Naval vessel. The Russians shot one of my crew and were taking another twelve activists prisoner when the ELF attacked them. They took five Russian sailors hostage. They held them until they were exchanged for several political dissidents. They destroyed the Russian rig and a gunboat during the battle. The Russians thought we were part of the ELF setup and sent a surveillance ship after us, following us to St Kilda. It was sunk by the wave. We were thankful at the time for the ELF assistance, but unwittingly, we have, in the eyes of the MoDs, become the same entity. I think the ELF planned it that way. We had no prior knowledge of their presence in the Arctic.”

“I’m confused. Hasn’t the incident caused an international situation. We’re on the brink of war.”

“The world has been at war for decades, Faerrleah. The rules of engagement have just changed. Wars are fought using cybernetics. The control and sabotage of surveillance satellites, defence networks and military systems software can do far more damage than a bullet or a bomb. Once infiltrated, you can bring a country to its knees by disrupting its power grid and water supplies, its transport and telecommunications network; even empty the bank accounts of a country by targeting its financial sector. Nuclear weapons have been obsolete for years. No country would dare launch missiles in fear their command and control system has been compromised by a malicious virus just waiting to be activated, and the missiles rain down on their own people. This is why they have been so interested in this Silent Wave project that my father was working on. Send a tsunami towards your enemy, taking out its coastal cities, its military and industrial ports, and nuclear power stations, and blame it on natural causes. They use cyclone particle accelerators and pulse propulsion so it’s hard to detect.”

“But the Captain on the Mother Earth said a war with Russia was imminent.”

“There is no ship called the Mother Earth. The Russians are part of the world economic cartel. There’s too much money to be made in trading dirty energy to start a war right now, but when fossil fuels eventually run out the shadow boxing will stop and the gloves will come off.” Saffron flicked through a number of files, dragging and dropping 3D images of Itaridlë and Lúthien into the air. The two files were labelled, terminated. Bull said,

“The wave that hit St Kilda, did it capsize the ferry I was on? The Andrea Starlight. Was it real?”

“Yes, the islands were hit by two waves and another is imminent. A ferry which was trying out a new fuel technology was sunk by the first wave, but it wasn’t called the Andrea Starlight, it was called the Pride of the Isles. The Andrea Starlight is also part of a shared programme. The programmes are a mix of the real and the unreal. That’s why you know about the incident in the Arctic with the Russians.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. This could be a hallucination for all I know. I’ve been seeing lots of strange things of late.”

“Occasionally, there are glitches, usually brought about by reflections or diffracted light, say at sunset or sunrise.”

“Like, seeing things in mirrors?”

“Exactly. Time lapses and strange images, things like that.”

“But the Flower Child was sunk?”

“There is no ship called the Flower Child. Our two ships are called the Xiuhtezcatl and the Itzcuauhtli. I think they must have created the ship’s name amongst other things in your programme.”

“What do you mean my programme? What other things.” Saffron said,

“It’s what your brain is suspended in. Your neural-scan needs something to keep it occupied or the synapses between the brain’s neurons and the glial cells get weaker by the day. They subject you to pain, cold and fear to keep your brain stimulated, they control your olfactory senses, your sight, touch, everything, even the weather around you. I’m sorry Faerrleah, I sound heartless - I don’t mean to.” Saffron flicked through the 3D files until she came to Bull’s file. She said,

“This is you Faerrleah, this is your programme.” Bull was almost breathless at the sight of the digital image suspended in front of his eyes – a flickering cosmic cloud, set like an oval shaped gemstone, against a background of dark matter. At first he thought it was a graphic projection of a nebula, but Saffron’s quivering voice interrupted his train of thought. She said,

“This is your brain, Faerrleah.”

“My scan?”

“In an essence,” said Saffron breaking up as she read the details of the file, “but this is the state your brain exists in now. This is the architecture of your mind.”

“I don’t understand. What exactly am I looking at?” Saffron pointed to the multi-coloured pulsing image and said,

“The flashing strands are cingulum bundles - neural pathways connecting the functions of the brain, like an electronic signature allowing it to be analysed. All the other activity is from lobes, neurons and glial cells. This is where your mind exists.” Bull approached the 3D neural-image. There was a deathly look on his face. Bull said,

“So if this is my brain, where is my body?”

“Saffron turned her back and used both hands to drag and drop virtual files. She worked at a frantic pace. Eventually, without turning her head, she said,

“You and the others, you were brought to this island after you were sieved. All the islanders are SELF’s, all the ones inside and outside the programmes, every one of them, even the military stationed here. Only a SELF is allowed to live here. You’re bodies are here, in an underground silo, somewhere on one of the islands. I’m trying to find out where.” Bull crept towards Saffron, leaning over and close to her hair. He breathed but could detect no odour. He reached out to touch Saffron’s arm. This time he connected with her. Her form flashed and pixelated for an instant. Bull recoiled in astonishment.

“What are you Saffron? You’re made out of light. You’re a 3D projection, but not like anything I’ve ever seen before. Please tell me this is all a hallucination!” Saffron turned to face him. Even if tears didn’t flow unrestrictedly down her face, she wiped them away all the same. She sniffed,

“I’m sorry Faerrleah, I don’t know how to explain this to you, but you can see me and talk to me, but you can’t touch me. I’m standing in a cabin on Hirta Island, in St Kilda and I have hacked into the IMAGEN Project. I’m being projected into your simulation, through an artificial neural network. I’m running out of time, but I found where they are keeping you and the others.”

Saffron looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Bull tracked Saffron’s gaze but instead of a clock he could only see a porthole, and through the glass, a distant light. Bull felt anaesthetized, as if the life was draining from his body. His vision began to blur. There was a strange taste in his mouth and then it disappeared completely. Saffron looked at him. Her voice still breaking up, she said, “They know I am here and they’re trying to sever the link. I need to extract the data from your scan before they destroy this lab.” Tears streamed down Bull’s face. He clawed them back with his hands and sobbed,

“If what you are saying is true, these aren’t even real tears. Simulated tears are they? What we had, that was real wasn’t it? Climbing over the Necropolis in Glasgow, was that real? Was Boris real? Waking up together on the narrowboat for the first time? Tell me it was all real? I need to know before you go.” The image of himself and Saffron walking across the Necropolis played like a loop in his mind. Saffron nodded her head and said,

“It was all real Faerrleah…” Bull buried his head in his hands. Saffron put her hand out to touch his cheek. Her fingers glistened and pixelated. When Bull looked up, Saffron was gone.

Bull sat in the dark for what seemed an age. He was faced by a wall of blackness. It was deathly silent. Even the whir of the electrical fans cooling the lab had ceased. The cabin began to shake. Bull felt pressure rising in his lungs. He gasped for air. He fell forward and scrambled around on his hands and knees, rising only to be cast down by an invisible force. He felt dizzy and sick. His senses returned and his head throbbed with pain. Cold water swirled around his bare legs. He felt the urge to run. He could feel objects cascading around the cabin, hindering his progress to where he remembered the door to be.

Bull kicked his way through the dark water. He felt like he had climbed but he couldn’t be sure. Finally he found the door. He put his weight behind it and opened it. The daylight blinded him. He could hear the sound of seabirds. There, below his flip-flops lay the sea, strewn with floating wreckage. He shivered in the cold wind. He was naked and unnerved by the sound of metal bulkheads groaning under the pressure of flooding water. He felt his body arch towards the waves, but he gripped the rails to balance himself. The impulse to jump was overwhelming. He would take three deep breaths and then he would leap into the sea. He edged his way around the metal structure until he came across a lifejacket, lying at his feet. He put it on. The name Andrea Starlight was emblazoned across it. Briefly, he thought of the dream he had just woken from. It had felt so real. Saffron was there, but the rest of the dream had already faded in his mind. He looked once more at the grey pulsating sea and then threw himself forward. Submerged in cold water he could taste the salt. Rising. Breathing. Floating. A stinging sensation in the eyes, but finally, in the distance, he could see the orange canopy of a life raft, rising and falling in the swells. Bull swam.

………………………………………….

Onboard an oil platform near Rockall, in a corner of the control room, a member of the project team was busy working on the new uploads for the Silent Wave system. One of the critical software programmes controlling the detonation was designed by Professor Burke. With one touch of a button the virus corrupted the ship’s command and control system. The malware copied the digital code, spread to the system’s hardware and corrupted it. The connection was lost and the detonation was cancelled. Professor Burke’s contact made a call.

“I’m happy to report there will be no surfing today Sir, and all specified players have been located and safely extracted as per your instructions.”

Raymond McIntyre ended the call and sighed. He looked out the reinforced window of his Whitehall office. Another storm was brewing. There was nothing he could do about the weather, but ruining the career of a dangerous upstart called John G Cluny and finding his brother, Robert, all in the same day, filled him with a satisfying feeling. He switched on his shackle and watched an emergency news bulletin, presented by inadequately dressed computer generated animation. It was reported the Prime Minister had resigned due to health reasons, and the Secretary of Defence would be acting as interim leader with new emergency powers. Amongst other matters, he would be addressing the nation about a clear up operation in St Kilda after an unusually powerful submarine landslip caused a devastating tsunami. Raymond McIntyre picked up the quaich his brother gave him nine years ago, after he was promoted to Permanent Secretary. He read the Latin engraving quoting the Roman poet, Juvenal: Quis custodiet ipos custodes? Who will guard the guards themselves. Beside the pewter cup was a photograph of his brother. He had made a decision: he was paying Robert a visit. His ticket had already been delivered by a postal drone. He would take a ferry called the Andrea Starlight from Ullapool to St Kilda.

..............................................................

On the Island of St Kilda, Saffron walked from Mullach Geal stopping only once to study the sea and the horizon for signs of activity. Nothing. But in the village she could see people congregating outside the community hall. She smiled. They had returned. The island was safe, but they didn’t know it yet and still they came back. She had already fallen in love with the islanders. She would see them later and thank them all over again. She was planning to take up their offer and stay. They had even picked out a cottage for her to renovate. Sheila had promised to help her. But for now, she had work to do. She continued her walk until she found a path which led to Glen Mὁr. Walking towards the shore, her eyes settled on a concrete facade built onto the hill. She now knew what lay beyond the myrtle green door: an underground bunker, leading to a silo and adjoined to a littoral cave one hundred metres below. She knew from the data files the storm gates would be left open to allow the wave to rush in and wash away the evidence.

She had friends to rescue, friends laid out in floatation tanks, linked up to life support systems, fed through tubes, their waste carried away by more tubes and then dumped into the sea. On the shore Saffron found the sea kayak Lachlan MacNeil had lent her. After casting off, she paddled to the entrance of the cave the islanders called Geo nan Plaidean. The ominous mouth to the natural hollow was dominated by the dark overhanging basalt cliff, stretching up to the summit of Conachair, where the seagulls screamed above her head as if to acknowledge her presence. She made her way to the back of the cave until she found a place to land. Taking care not to slip on the wet rocks, she made her way to the back of the fissure. As expected, her way was not barred, the doors were left open to allow the planned wave to rush in and drown its occupants. She found a spiral staircase and climbed until she came to a vast chamber. It reminded her of a tomb, but tombs were for the dead, the people laid out in rows, as far as her eyes could see were still living.