Lucy blinks, her voice calmer now. ‘It’s fine,’ she says. ‘I’m up for this. I’m intrigued. After that little sting, it’s nothing. I can’t even feel it now.’ She turns to Harvey. ‘In fact, I’m feeling a wee bit trippy. Are you going to tell us what this thing actually does, Harv? Have you fired in something to calm me down?’
Harvey smiles at her. ‘Yes, OK, you’re right. But it’s really nothing to worry about. I’ll explain precisely how it all works, of course. But let’s get you all kitted out first.’ He runs a finger across the watch screen again. ‘OK. So which one of you is James?’
Camera-guy shrugs. ‘That’s me,’ he says. ‘But hang on . . . can you tell me what it is you’ve injected her with, and why she needs it – because I’m not sure I’m 100 per cent on-board with this just yet.’
Harvey fixes him with a hard stare. ‘I can assure you that anything we attach, administer or instruct is completely safe and for your own benefit as part of the day. Without getting all heavy on you, this was spelled out in your acceptance form. You’ve signed a waiver.’ He turns round, making sure they’re all paying attention. ‘We wouldn’t want any of you to jeopardise your remunerations, would we?’
Tiggy takes Giles’s hand and he responds with a grimace. ‘Sure, dude,’ he says. ‘We get it.’
Helmet-hair purses her lips, crosses her arms, but says nothing more.
James walks over to Harvey and tips his head towards him. ‘Come on then. Let’s get this done.’
Amelia
T - 19
After Lucy’s shock at the attachment of the device, and Harvey’s little admonishment, everyone seems to have calmed down. Each time Harvey has glanced at his watch, Amelia has expected it to be her. But she’s last, it seems. After Lucy De Marco, the redhead, and James Devlin, the camera guy, had come Tiggy Ramona – which surely can’t be her real name – and her boyfriend, the pushy games designer, Giles Horner. Then the American, Scott Williams, and finally Brenda Carter, the woman with the unmoving helmet of hair.
Apart from Tiggy and Giles, who have already revealed their jobs, and with it a suggestion of what they might be doing here, Amelia is still none the wiser about the others’ roles, and her own part in this. But everyone seems to be much more relaxed with their devices attached behind their ears. Partly down to the drug, assuming they’ve all had the same thing. Amelia stands and walks towards Harvey, supposing that she’s next.
Scott, the American, is chuckling to himself. ‘I get it,’ he says. ‘I’m digging this sedative, by the way. So you’re administering it via the metal sensor that’s pierced the skin, right? A microlance of some sort? Is it something in the metal, or something you’re firing through the hollow chamber?’
Harvey looks away and starts fiddling with his watch. ‘Nothing like that—’
‘Oh, sure,’ Scott says, turning to Amelia and winking at her conspiratorially. ‘I work in this field, you know. Nutraceuticals and all that. Our biggest thing at the moment is those vitamin infusions that’re pumped in via a drip. All the rage. Anything you need – energy, calm, anti-anxiety . . . You name it.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Lucy interrupts. ‘They’re pumping drugs into us? I was joking earlier! This cannot be legal.’
‘Of course it wouldn’t be legal,’ says James. ‘But you RSVP’d, right? Did you read the non-disclosure agreement? Sign the waiver? Harvey literally just mentioned it five minutes ago.’
‘I didn’t see anything like that,’ Giles says, his eyes scanning the room, looking for some backup, ‘about giving us drugs . . .’
‘You said we did, babe,’ Tiggy stage-whispers to him. He ignores her.
‘Well, I read it,’ Brenda says. ‘It’s watertight. I just wasn’t expecting this.’
‘Shall we sort out your tracker?’ Harvey says, turning to Amelia. He’s still smiling, but there’s uncertainty in his eyes now.
Amelia hesitates. ‘Perhaps if someone could explain all this a bit more—’
‘Look, lady,’ Scott says. ‘We’ve all got one now. Just embrace it. I mean, come on. It’s not like they’re trying to kill us.’ He tries to laugh, but it sounds hollow.
‘Maybe they are, though,’ Tiggy says. ‘Maybe this is one of those extreme reality TV shows or something. Oh God! Why didn’t I think of this before?’
‘What,’ Scott says, ‘a reality show where they kill the contestants? What kind of hardcore TV shows do you Brits go in for, for God’s sake?’
Tiggy glares at him but doesn’t say anything more.
Amelia sees Brenda and James exchange a glance. Then James shrugs and turns back to Amelia. ‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘The rest of us are OK, right?’ He flashes a look at Tiggy. ‘No one is trying to kill us.’
Amelia swallows. Brenda and James seem to be the most level-headed. If they’re OK with it . . . She turns back to Harvey, lifts her hair away from her ear, like she’s seen the others do. Harvey leans in and places the loop of the tracker over the top of her ear. She braces, expecting the small sting that the others have mentioned. Expects to flinch. Imagines it’s a bit like getting your ears pierced – that terrifying-looking gun that fires the earring post through the soft flesh of your ear. She stopped wearing earrings when she started to get a skin reaction, many years before. Hopes that the metal prong of the tracker – or whatever it is – doesn’t do the same.
Harvey takes a step back, his face scrunched up in confusion. He taps his watch. Blows out a breath. He leans over and touches the device. ‘You’re Amelia, is that right?’ She nods, letting him continue. ‘Did you feel it? It would’ve just been a tiny pinprick, but you should definitely feel it. That area of skin is very thin.’
‘I didn’t feel it.’ A small bead of worry slides across her chest, making her heart flutter.
Harvey presses on the tracker. Then looks at his watch. ‘It’s not registering.’ He unclips the piece that hooks over her ear and pulls.
‘What the . . . ?’ Giles starts. ‘How has hers come off like that?’ He tugs on his own device, then winces. ‘Ouch. Jeez.’
‘Please,’ Harvey says. He has two spots of red on his cheeks. Sweat is prickling on his forehead. ‘Please don’t try to remove the devices. As I explained, they’re connected now, and they’re calibrating. We need to remove them properly later on, or they could damage the skin, and—’
‘Maybe try on my other ear?’ Amelia suggests. She takes a deep breath, trying to swallow the bead of worry and dissolve it deep inside.
‘No . . . no,’ Harvey says. ‘It has to be the left ear. It connects to . . .’ He lets the words trail off. His watch beeps and he looks down at it again, reading a message that’s flashed up. ‘OK, right. We need to revert to Plan B for you. Just for now.’ He sticks his hand back into the white box and pulls out a watch, similar to the one he’s wearing. ‘Left wrist,’ he says, nodding at Amelia. ‘The sensor isn’t as advanced on this one – no skin penetration. This is Prototype II. The staff wear them, but we’d hoped that all of you would be able to wear the brand-new Prototype III. But not to worry, we’re still in the testing phase. In fact, this might be a good thing. A mini clinical trial, I suppose. One of you having the standard device, the other six having the new one . . .’