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33

THE GREATER GOOD

‘What have you done to Nisha?’

Casimir doesn’t answer.

The bouncers grab my arms, lift me from the floor and thrust me down into the seat opposite Jack. He’s weeping, tears pouring down his face. They’ve wiped the make-up off with a rag that now serves as a gag. He stares at me, eyes wide, petrified. He strains against the ropes.

I ’ m so sorry . This is all my fault . Yesterday he didn’t even know who I was. It should’ve stayed that way.

My arms are yanked behind me, around the back of the chair. I feel my wrists being tied together, my ankles. A damp rag is pushed roughly over my face, oily against my skin. The smell of the rag makes me gag. Sharp. Chemical. Fingers force my mouth open and stuff it inside.

It tastes bitter like turps, like it’s been used to clean something. I try to force it out with my tongue, but it’s tied too tight. My eyes begin to stream. The smell – the taste of the rag – making my vision blur.

The bouncers leave the vault, slamming the door shut behind them.

Casimir steps forwards so he’s between us, stopping directly beneath the light bulb. He turns the knife round in his hands, touching the edge of the blade with his fingertips.

‘Just the three of us,’ he then says quietly. ‘Now, this is how it’s going to work. I’m going to talk and you’re both going to listen.’ His voice is calm, steady, but when he turns to me, his eyes shine a terrifying opaque black. ‘It seems you’ve made a few mistakes. I’m able to forgive – mostly – but not everything.’

He points the knife straight at me. ‘You.’ The tip is a few inches from my chest. ‘You made a promise. You signed something that I take very seriously. And because of what you’ve done, it leads me to believe that you do not take it very seriously. Is that true? You can nod your head,’ he says softly, in a way that makes my skin prickle. ‘That will suffice.’

When I don’t, he steps towards me. ‘ Nod . Your . Head ,’ he says. He then takes hold of my face with his hands so the handle of the knife is pressed into my cheek. He begins to lift my head up and down. ‘That’s it,’ he says. ‘That’s it.’

He starts to laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls. I try to twist my neck, but he grips my head tighter, moving it up and down up like I’m his toy.

‘Very good, Elias.’ He stops, but keeps my face cupped in his hands. ‘You can be obedient. However, you have got yourselves into a little spot of bother, haven’t you?’ He smiles, showing his teeth and I suddenly think of the Joker. ‘And now you’re in trouble,’ he whispers. ‘Oopsie.’

I try to lurch the chair forwards, but it’s too heavy.

He tuts, wagging his finger. ‘No, no, no, Elias.’ He taps it on my nose. ‘That won’t help you. The only thing that will help you now is doing exactly what I say.’

He lets go of my face, steps back and holds his hands out to his sides like he’s making a peace offering. He turns to Jack, then back to me, rotating between the two of us. He’s casual, relaxed, in a way that feels unnerving. Unpredictable.

‘So, here’s the thing. This is my club and I like it. Lots of people like it. More than that, lots of people want it. Need it. We offer a service at TraumaLand that is increasingly necessary. We live in a world of addicts. So many of us desperately seek to fill a void. Drugs and alcohol, gambling, these things only work for so long. Take the edge off. But they don’t quench the thirst. Because what people are missing is connection. Real connection. And with real connection comes emotion.’ He pauses, looking me dead in the eye. ‘We all want to feel. It’s why we’re here, isn’t it? What is the point of any of this, if we don’t feel alive?’

His eyes are manic. His hands play with the knife, turning it, moving it through the air.

He continues, enjoying his own words, the sound of his own voice. ‘I assume you know from your little trip to my cleaner’s office – and the headset and chip that you stole from me – that TEAR Solutions are performing what many might deem morally bankrupt healthcare.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s awful that it’s gone this far. But parents are desperate. They want a quick fix. Neither of you had a choice in the matter. And I’d like you to know that’s something I do not agree with. Some patients do get to choose, most in fact – but you two did not. However bankrupt that is, it is the future. And we must accept it.’

He stops in front of Jack and leans down towards him. He then places the tip of the knife softly on his arm and begins to run it over his skin. His scars. ‘You’d been in so much pain,’ Casimir murmurs. ‘The agony you were in is written all over you.’

Jack lurches his body, trying to move away from him. But the knots are too tight.

‘ Get off him ,’ I try to scream. But the rag mutes it so it’s just a pathetic, muffled yelp.

Casimir turns back to me. ‘Did you have something to add?’

I try again. ‘Leave him the fuck alone.’

It only makes Casimir laugh. That horrible laugh, reverberating around the vault.

‘I recognise pain, Elias. It’s my job to do so. I deal in pain.’ His expression changes, his face weighed down by some unknowable force. He has experienced pain himself. ‘And I am very good at my job.’ He steps away from Jack, lowering the knife. ‘Things are shifting. Changing. The world is starting to see different forces taking charge, forces that will soon be outside of human control. Technology is growing and we are hooked. It has its claws in us. It is both a blessing and a curse. It helps us, teaches us, even cures us. But there is so much darkness in it. It numbs us. Desensitises us. And then it starts to make us wonder if we are really here at all.’

He closes his eyes and inhales slowly. When he opens them again, he nods, resolute. ‘I think it is only correct to balance the scales. I see it as my duty. I want to give back to people, give back what has been taken from them. But with this duty comes responsibility. It is vital for me to keep everybody safe in here. And that includes the people in the stories. Discretion is key.’

He turns to me. ‘When you first came to TraumaLand and signed your name as Lucas, our colleague at the door upstairs assumed it was fine to allow you in. I have no stories of anyone called Lucas. And so, you slipped through the net.’ He glances down at his knife in his hands. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with her for what she did.’ He shakes his head remorsefully. But he’s performing. I know it myself, all too well.

‘You must understand that in order to keep this place going I need it to remain secret from those inside the stories. It’s all for the greater good. For the people who come here to find their cure. That is why I do it. I do it for them.’

And for the money.

Casimir steps round to the back of Jack’s chair and places his hands on to his shoulders. Jack flinches, his cries muffled by the rag. ‘I know. I hear you, Jack. What about those people who have lost their trauma? It seems unfair, doesn’t it? I know the procedure can leave you feeling a little numb yourself. I’ve seen the case studies.’ Fuck off. Fuck. Off. ‘TEAR Solutions will soon be a multimillion-pound, profit-making machine, endorsed by our government. So, if you think what I’m doing is wrong, you must see the bigger picture. I’m taking from the rich and giving to the poor. Like the…’ He stops, smiling to himself. ‘Like the Robin Hood of emotional balance.’ He taps Jack on the shoulder pityingly. Performatively. ‘But sadly there has to be some collateral.’

Casimir looks up. ‘Elias, I know you doubt that a cleaner could ever do such a thing as this and yet here we are.’ He winks. ‘Privilege only gets you so far, my friend. Your lovely house.’ You maniac. ‘Those rhododendron bushes. That attic room. Those storage boxes.’

I squirm in my chair.

‘What was that?’ He puts his hand to his ear. ‘How do I know these things?’ He smiles. ‘Well, your friend Nisha had something to do with it.’ He crouches in front of me so our faces are level. ‘I’ve learned a lot, watching, hiding in the shadows. Thankfully the memory-removal procedure is very quick and quite simple. Taking two days from someone’s mind is not as difficult as it might sound. The technology is really quite clever.’

Of course, he watched it. A chill runs through me as I realise he knows everything.

I squirm in my seat, desperate to break free. ‘You bastard.’

He frowns, feigning concern. ‘I can see that this startles you, Elias. Don’t worry, she’s used to it. Nisha has had a long and troubled history. In return for taking the trauma of her past – which she asked me to remove – she works for me. It’s win-win for both of us.’ He leans right into my face again. ‘She was in an incredible amount of pain, like Jack was,’ he whispers. ‘I removed so much trauma – files and files of it. It was so…’ He falters and I see his eyes glisten. ‘She deserved so much better. Life has been so cruel to her. She was incredibly grateful to me.’

He turns to Jack again and takes the back of his chair. He drags it so it screeches on the concrete until Jack is no longer visible outside the pool of light. He then heads to the door and knocks on it three times.

It opens and one of the bodyguards steps in. Followed by someone else.

‘Hello, Violet,’ Casimir says as Nisha emerges in the doorway.

‘Hi, Casimir.’

‘I won’t take much of your time. I just need your help for a moment. Could you look at that gentleman over there.’ He points at me and Nisha blinks. ‘Do you know him?’

She squints. ‘Yeah, I saw him at the bar about ten minutes ago. He was acting crazy, about to wonk.’

Casimir nods. ‘Never seen him before that?’

She shrugs. ‘Nope.’

‘Thank you, Nisha. Sorry, Violet .’

‘Don’t worry,’ Nisha says. ‘Can I help you with anything else?’

She sounds so different. So compliant.

‘Yes.’ Casimir turns to me and smiles. ‘Could you just explain to him about your name?’

Her name?

‘Yeah, of course.’ Nisha looks me dead in the eye. ‘I go by different names. Always have. I used to do it a lot as a kid, made me feel safe. Still do it. I go by Violet at work. Nisha is the one I use outside of work, with people I don’t know. Or for my phone, in case it’s stolen, so no one can know my business.’

Oh, shit.

‘Because there are some pretty evil people out there, aren’t there?’ Casimir says.

She nods, her face blank. ‘I like being as anonymous as I can.’

Casimir shrugs. ‘Makes sense to me. Thanks, Violet.’ She turns to leave. ‘Oh, wait. Just one more thing. Could you tell him your real name?’

‘Sure. My real name is Amy.’

‘Thank you. That’s all, Amy.’

Oh my God.

Amy .

HAMMER.

In that shed? With that awful man? That was her?

She nods. ‘Thanks, Cas.’

She then opens the door and disappears back out into the strobes.

As it shuts behind her, Casimir turns to me. ‘So, Elias. I think you’ve already seen some of Amy’s story. In fact, I think it was the first story you experienced at TraumaLand.’

‘I…’

How? I never saw her face. Her voice was distorted.

When did that happen to her?

I feel sick. I think I’m going to be—

‘Now tell me,’ Casimir says. ‘Do you really think she should have those memories back? She seems happy enough without them. And she consented. Now her memories are used to help bring other people back to life.’

You ’ re evil , I try to scream.

I try to look at Jack but can only hear him groaning in the shadows.

Casimir steps towards me. ‘I want my headset back, Elias. And my chip that’s inside it. Sadly, those memories no longer belong to you. I’m going to remove the gag from your mouth and you’re going to tell me where it is. If you so much as say another word, I will cut you.’ He turns the blade, hovering it over my arm. ‘Do you understand? Nod. Your. Head.’

I don’t.

The blade slices into my skin. I scream into the rag.

He draws the knife down and I feel the blood trickling along my arm. My legs tremble with the pain. He waits until I’ve stopped screaming, then unties the rag and lowers it. I gasp, taking in mouthfuls of clean air.

‘So, Elias,’ he says. ‘Where is it? I know you’re fond of words. Just tell me and this will all go away.’

‘You need to be stopped—’

He slices the knife. Deeper this time.

I scream as the pain radiates through me. ‘What did I tell you about using other words?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I see. Well, perhaps this will help.’ He turns towards the darkness, knife in hand, to where Jack is. He leans towards him. I hear Jack whimper.

‘Stop! You maniac!’ Jesus Christ. ‘I’ll tell you! Just leave him alone—’

Casimir laughs. When he emerges back into the glow of the bulb, he’s holding the rose pendant in his hand. ‘This is your favourite thing, isn’t it, Jack? Shame.’

Jack tries to scream, but Casimir ignores him, turning to me. ‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Where is it?’

‘It’s in the bin.’

His face morphs into an expression of fury. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said it’s in the bin.’ He stares at me with his black eyes. ‘It’s gone. So, your new little project won’t have us in it. Those memories will never be seen by anyone else, no matter how much you convince yourself you’re doing the world a favour. No matter how much you charge for them. They’re not yours. They’re ours and we need them. We need them back. Just like we need the ones in here back.’

‘You want them back ?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘We do. All of them.’

My arm doesn’t hurt any more. I’m numb. Completely numb.

He steps towards me, knife outstretched. ‘You will tell me where those memories are right—’

Suddenly the vault door smashes open. It happens in a flash. A blur.

Someone is on top of him and the room fills with people – two, three, four of them – all wearing black, shouting.

‘ Put the knife down . On the floor, now! ’

They pin him to the ground. As they pull his arms behind his back, he drops the pendant and his knife.

A woman appears behind me and begins cutting the ropes from my wrists. She then helps me up, letting me lean on her. I look over at Jack to see he’s free now too, a tall man with a beard helping him up.

‘You’re safe,’ the woman is saying. ‘But you need to come with us. Now.’ She is wearing a hooded coat, cargo trousers and boots, her short dark hair scraped back. ‘This way, Mr Pew. Mr Quinn. Come with us, please.’

Then we’re being led out of the vault. Back through the strobes and music and bodies.

I try to pull away from her, but she’s holding too tight.

‘We’re here to help you, Elias,’ she says as we step through the iron door and out into the holding area.

‘Do you work for my father?’ I say. ‘Tell me!’

‘Quiet,’ she replies. ‘Not here.’

We head up the twisting stairs, walking in single file – the woman at the front with me, the bearded man behind with Jack – up to the reception room at the top. Then we’re out of TraumaLand.

Parked on the street in front of us, there is a van. A silver van with no windows in the back.

‘Who are you?’ I scream.

My brain – my brain is moving too quickly.

‘In there,’ the bearded man says, opening up the back doors. He takes out a mobile phone and begins to dial.

I hesitate, looking at Jack.

‘Are you the police?’ he says, his voice trembling.

‘You don’t have to worry,’ the woman replies, putting her hand on my arm. I flinch. ‘Jesus,’ she says, looking down at the cuts.

And then she has something in her hand. A first-aid kit. She opens it and lifts out a handful of gauze.

‘I just want to clean you up a little before we go,’ the woman says, tearing open a small square packet with her teeth. ‘This might sting a little.’ She takes out a wipe and runs it down my arm. I can smell the ethanol, but I feel nothing, my body still numb. ‘Nearly there,’ she says, unfurling a bandage and wrapping it. ‘OK, all done, sweetheart.’

Sweetheart .

‘But…’

We can’t trust them. We can’t trust anyone.

‘Now in the van,’ she says.

‘Tell me who you are!’ I yell. My brain is moving so fast it feels like a forest fire spreading.

‘Trust us, Elias. We know what your father has done, and we want to help you. You’re safe now.’ She smiles kindly. ‘You have helped us more than you could know.’

I look at Jack.

He doesn’t move. Eyes wide, body trembling.

‘He’s in shock,’ the woman says. She steps towards Jack and places her hand on his shoulder. ‘Hi, Jack. We are here to protect you, OK? Everything will be fine now. I promise.’

As we’re led to the back of the van, I see the front door of TraumaLand, half open.

The rabbit gazes back at me. Its dark eyes staring, headphones lodged over its ears.