‘That sounds perfect.’
Later and alone in her room, Flick unpacked her few possessions from her rucksack and placed them inside an old oak wardrobe. Then she cracked open the window, layback on the candlewick bedcover and spread her body out into a star shape.
She closed her eyes and took in a handful of deep breaths through her nose and released them from her mouth. Even from inside her room, the salt in the sea air brought a warmth to her skin.This is what happiness smells like, she thought.
Chapter 12
CHARLIE, MANCHESTER
Name: Charlie Nicholls
Previous Name:
Age: 25
Previous Occupation: Graphic designer
Dependents: None
Strengths: Determined; sociable; capricious; focused
Weaknesses: Headstrong; prone to spontaneity
Charlie opened the curtains that ran the width of his fiftieth-storey hotel room.
He turned off the lights by hand, having already deactivated the room’s OS and all Wi-Fi capabilities, and gazed across Manchester’s dusky landscape. He dropped the thick white towel that covered his waist and it fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. Naked, he rested his forehead against the glass, rubbed his hands across his sculpted torso and positioned them by his side. Then he closed his eyes and imagined plummeting to the ground before catching flight.
‘This will be the headspace you return to if your thoughts become too intense or muddled,’ his programme therapisthad advised. ‘And in the early days, there will be occasions when it will happen. Think of this as a form of self-hypnosis. Use this as your release.’
Charlie thought of the wind catching his body and pulling him back up into the sky. There, he circled the city below him, swooping and diving, always out of sight and aware he could fly in any path as long as it was forward.
He opened his eyes and pushed himself back into a standing position. He had once been ashamed of his nudity, but now it didn’t embarrass him. In the tallest building in the city centre, there was nobody to see him, unless a drone had been deployed. And while he’d learned the response techniques should he ever find himself being tracked by one, it was improbable.
With a new appearance, a new backstory and nothing tethering him to his old life, Charlie was even more alone here than he’d been back in his home town of Portsmouth. There, he’d been waiting for someone else to give him meaning. But here, he had no such concerns.
Manchester wasn’t how he’d imagined it before his arrival that afternoon. After expanding to become Britain’s second-largest city, it had hidden much of its historically important architecture behind neon advertising signs, rotating billboards and giant television screens. A city couldn’t afford to dwell on the past when money was a factor. Everything was now a moving image. Even the driverless trams and buses were adorned with screens that changed what they were promoting by reading online purchases from your phone. However, the algorithms struggled with Charlie’s device. The standard-issue clamshell was so featureless that when he’d disembarked the train inside Piccadilly station, the screens on a passing bus repeated targeted ads for the woman in front of him, offering him sanitary towels.
La Maison du Court was the first hotel he’d spotted as he wandered through the city carrying all his worldlybelongings inside a rucksack strapped to his back. The towering skyscraper housed a grand, marble entrance and floor-to-ceiling fish tanks. Fresh flowers in vases towered above him and a waterfall flowed behind the reception desk. It was far removed from the Travelodges he’d been used to. But access to the programme’s funding meant he could afford the best and he vowed to begin his new adventure in style.
Charlie had been kept away from the outside world during his training. He picked a rolling news channel on a television to watch as he lay inside a warm, soapy bath. It felt quite old-fashioned to rely on the television to bring him news as for his whole adult life, digital assistants had given him access to it where and when he required it. Like other obsolete tasks such as reading a physical copy of a newspaper or using a key to unlock a door, it was going to take some getting used to.
His stomach rumbled just as his door buzzed and opened itself. He had not needed to slip on his towel when room service turned out to be an automated trolley that wheeled itself into the room. The menu had offered Farm or FabLab meats, the latter an epithet for Fabricated Meats and an inexpensive option bioengineered in laboratories from animal cells. Charlie had decided to treat himself and chose Farm – and the priciest veal steak on the menu. He glanced at the empty seat at the table next to him and briefly wondered what it might be like to have someone to share this with.
Charlie logged on to the only website his phone could access, the ReadWell message board. To his relief, a quick search revealed no response toThe Two Noble Kinsmenthread.
He devoured the last mouthful of the tender meat and thought of his old friends Stelfox and Travis and what they might think if they could see him now, dining on expensive foods in a hotel that would cost them a week’s wages fora one-night stay. He raised a glass of mineral water to silently toast them.
With his stomach fit to burst, Charlie sent the trolley back to the kitchens and examined his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He approved of what he saw. The beard he once relied on to hide his pitted, acne-scarred cheeks was now unnecessary following skin resurfacing treatment. He ran his fingers over his chest and stomach; everything was tenser and tighter since he’d lost 20 kilos. He’d worked hard with personal trainers and learned combat techniques, self-defence and weapons training from former SAS soldiers. And he’d removed all junk food from his diet to create this new, leaner version of himself.
He wondered how many other Minders there were and if, like him, they’d taken advantage of the cosmetic procedures on offer. Charlie had replaced his crooked teeth with sparkling new veneers, and straightened the wonky nose he’d twice broken playing football. Three tattoos he’d had since his teenage years had also been lasered from his chest, arm and left buttock. He rubbed his fingertips against one another and marvelled at how smooth they were since his prints had been erased. He felt like a completely new man because that’s exactly what he was.
Yawning, he dimmed the lights again, returned to the window to rest his head and close his eyes. And once more, he imagined himself in flight.
Chapter 13
SINÉAD, SUNDERLAND
Name: Sinéad Kelly
