‘Yes,’ Lucy says. ‘I can see it.’ The others nod.
Amelia doesn’t bother to read the words out loud.
NAME: AMELIA LAWRENCE
AGE: 30
NATIONALITY: BRITISH
CURRENT RESIDENCE: WOKING, SURREY, UK
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE
JOB: HUMANITARIAN AID WORKER
WHY YOU’RE HERE: THAT’S FOR YOU TO FIGURE OUT
The words stop flowing; the cursor blinks. Then stops.
‘Well,’ Giles says. ‘That’s different.’
‘Maybe it’s because of the different device,’ Lucy says. ‘Harvey did say that the little prong in our ear-versions was connecting to our neural pathways.’
Scott laughs. ‘That’s complete bull though, right? It’s a trick. Has to be. There’s no device that can do that.’
‘How do you know?’ James says. ‘None of us knows what Timeo actually does. Maybe this is what they do. Maybe we’re trialling these tech prototypes, not just messing about playing a game on a random island.’ He pauses. ‘Talking of which, does anyone know where we are? Did any of you recognise that bay outside?’
‘We didn’t get much of a chance,’ Giles says. ‘The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can work out what’s going on.’ He frowns and tugs at his device. ‘Interesting theory though, about the device. The technology in wearable trackers is a lot more sophisticated than most people realise, you know. There’s a tech guy in Sweden who’s been firing nanochips into humans for the last few years – the chips are just like the ones in your bank card, except even more minuscule. You think all that near-future sci-fi you watch on Netflix is still years away, but it’s not . . . it’s the next big thing in gaming. Virtual reality is just the start. This biometric tracking stuff is almost old news.’
Brenda shudders. ‘I’m no dinosaur, but I hate all that stuff. It scares me. Artificial intelligence is going to cancel out the human race one day. I know it.’
‘But what would be the point in that?’ James says. ‘Who’d be around to benefit from the machines?’
Brenda wants to say more, but she holds herself back. She’s scared that all this tracker stuff might be real after all.
Tiggy giggles, but when she speaks her voice wavers. ‘You’re all getting a bit carried away . . . let’s just get on with the game, shall we? Because this is totally a game. I think we must’ve signed something saying they can do what they want . . . and I think they’re watching us right now. We’re probably being live-streamed on TV.’ She pauses, turns round and flicks her hair. Pouts. ‘I can’t see any cameras, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? And if we’re live right now, then they want us to fight . . . and it’s working! We haven’t even got properly started yet and everyone’s driving each other mad.’
‘I, um . . . I think we need my information thing to finish first.’ Amelia taps her tracker again. ‘Continue?’
She taps her wrist-device once more, and the text recommences scrolling.
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: INFORMATION NOT AVAILABLE
YOUR LAST LIE: INFORMATION NOT AVAILABLE
‘Not available? What the hell is this crap?’ Scott strides over to Amelia and grabs her wrist.
‘Hey,’ she says, pulling away from him. ‘Don’t grab at me.’
‘That’s enough now.’ Giles steps towards them and Scott holds his hands up in surrender, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’ under his breath before sitting back down.
‘This is all because she’s got the wrong tracker,’ Lucy says.
‘Or,’ Tiggy says, pausing for effect, ‘it’s because she’s the wrong person.’ She glances around the room again, winks. Brenda observes her little performance as she plays to the cameras she’s clearly sure must exist.
‘Huh?’ says James. The others gather round.
‘Amelia Lawrence, right?’ Tiggy says, emboldened now, addressing the girl. ‘Humanitarian aid worker?’
‘That’s right,’ Amelia says. ‘I’ve been doing it since I left university.’
‘And why would you be needed here?’ Tiggy says. ‘This is supposed to be a luxury game.’ She curls her fingers into air quotes as she says the last word. Then she pouts again and raises her hands, gesturing towards the others. ‘We’ve got a games designer, a gossip columnist, a photographer. We’ve got finance and medical. And there’s me – a well-known influencer. All of these things hang together. But then there’s you.’
‘She’s right,’ Brenda says, impressed by Tiggy now that she’s come out of her shell and made these deductions. Not such a pathetic little creature after all.
‘So where do you think you fit into this, Amelia?’ James says gently.
Amelia shakes her head. ‘I don’t know . . . I thought maybe it was something to do with the infrastructure. I’ve worked on all sorts of projects. Maybe they want my advice on the logistics of it all . . .’ Her voice trails off when she notices the sceptical faces.
‘You know what I think?’ Tiggy says. ‘I think you’re not meant to be here at all—’
‘But, I—’
Tiggy holds up a hand. ‘There’s a high-profile marketing agency run by Amy Lawrence. She’s about the same age as you. She works with start-ups, and she knows everything there is to know about social media marketing. She was behind the orange square campaign for Fyre Festival, although they didn’t credit her with it – which is just as well, as that whole thing changed the landscape for influencers . . .’ She pauses. ‘Anyway, my point is – I think it’s her who’s meant to be here, not you.’
Everyone stares at Amelia, and she seems to shrink into herself. She opens her mouth to speak, but changes her mind.
Tiggy smiles sweetly, obviously pleased with herself. She walks over to the door and tries the handle. There’s a small click as the lock releases. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ she says, and everyone follows, casting glances at Amelia, who holds back to the end. James waits for her, beckons her to follow, and after a moment she does. Brenda watches as he leans in and whispers something to her, and then Amelia nods and gives him a smile.
Outside, the sun is fierce. Seven small backpacks are lined up on the path, each with a name attached. The group make their way towards the bags, each picking up their own and flipping open the top to see what’s inside. James and Amelia are close together, and he whispers to her again.
Brenda picks up her bag and sidles closer to the pair. She wants to know what he’s said to her, and whether this is yet another little nugget dropped on them to try and unsettle them – or if she really is here by mistake. And if she is – how is that going to affect the rest of them?
A screech of static, then a tannoy announcement stops her from having any more time to think about it.
‘Welcome to The Island, everyone. Please take your kitbag and follow the instructions according to your devices. There’s a change of clothes in there for anyone who might need it. Have a wonderful day, and we’ll see you soon for the end-of-day party. It is now T minus 18.’ It screeches again, and then stops.