Last Man in London, page 19
‘Never mind son. You wouldn’t have liked it, that’s all,’ said Edgar.
‘But de-population, that still troubles me a little. Everybody today is born fertile and yet automatically sterilised. And then that can be reversed if the Human Resource Department decide you are eligible.’
’No George, they don’t decide anything. You have to prove you are eligible. It’s up to you. If you have fulfilled the terms of your contract then they cannot and would not deny you the right to have a family. That’s in your hands, not theirs. And besides, we had to rely on condoms in our day. You don’t have that problem. You youngsters have it easy these days. Look, there had to be some sort of de-population. And as far as I could see there were only a handful of ways to do that with a society.’
‘And they were?’
’War, Famine, Disease, Natural Disaster, Contraception and Celibacy. Which of those would you prefer George?’ Edgar asked.
‘Ok, I see your point. Forced contraception was at least the most humane way of those to go about it. What about marriage, how did that work in your day?’
‘Well, long before my time, when people lived in small communities, people married people and had families who were like each other. Farm boys married farm girls and the wealthy aristocrats married into each others families. It was like that for generations. But, in my day those lines had all been blurred. Especially in the big cities like London.’
George looked out of the window towards St Paul’s. Edgar continued. ‘In my day we could marry whoever we wanted. In fact, we could have children even if we weren’t married. We could choose whoever we wanted to share our genetic line with and guess what; most of us chose somebody unsuitable. I know I did. Your generation are encouraged to marry like minded people. That’s why you are brought up among people with similar natures, like that Tibha girl for instance. Mechanically minded people are mixed with mechanically minded people from the beginning of their academy training. Scientists are mixed with other scientists, artists with artists and writers, George, like you, are associated with other creative people, from a very early age. That way you are far more likely to share your genes with somebody of a similar nature and, scientifically speaking, that’s good for society. That is good for the future of the Corporation.’
’And all we have to do is prove we can honour five marriage licences, either with one person, or with five different people, and we qualify for a fifteen year family licence,’ said George thoughtfully.
‘It’s not a perfect system,’ agreed Edgar. ‘Many people enter the one year contracts just to get them out of the way. But, they can’t be broken, that’s the point. So at least people are more honest with each other than they used to be. And more patient too, they have to be. Not like in my day. We could be having relationships and sex with whoever we wanted to and whenever we wanted. We could simply pay for it if we chose to. And so can you, only not if you want to have a family yourself and propagate your gene.’
‘What is the difference between having sex in a relationship and paying for it?’ asked George.
‘Paying for it was cheaper,’ laughed Edgar, ‘in the long run anyway.’
‘I don’t understand,’ complained George.
‘And I wouldn’t expect you too,’ Edgar responded, ‘pass that bottle.’
George had the feeling they were talking about two different things. He wanted to know more about his family but Edgar had never really spoken about them. George had met both his grandfather and his father, according to Edgar, but he was too young to remember either of them.
‘What is it like to have children? ’He asked.
Edgar peered into his glass as if he was looking for something. ‘To be the father of a growing child is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Nothing reveals a man's limitations as much as the absolute realisation that his heart and soul is running around in another person’s body. A little person. That is the time when ordinary men need to become extraordinary. I could go on,’ he told George, ‘but I wouldn't want to spoil your sleep, as it has ruined mine over the years.’
Edgar was glad George had found out the truth about how modern society had been shaped. He, himself, had seen big changes but for the younger generation everything would appear to be natural and normal. It is what they were born into, grew up with and became used to. It impressed Edgar that such big changes could be made to everybody’s way of life in only a few generations. One of the problems, of the old democracy, had been that the intelligent people were all full of doubts and the ignorant were overcome with misplaced confidence.
He thought back to his own grandfather and he really didn’t know what life had been like for him. And that meant society had changed between their generations too. And had probably always changed between every other generation. He wasn’t at all troubled by what the original Main Board had achieved and to discover it had all been done to satisfy their own deeply held religious beliefs amused him. And after all, there was nothing sinister about the society they had created, only in the way they had achieved it but that was all in the past. Now things were controlled, orderly and relatively safe.
He could turn a blind eye to the forced and sometimes covert program of sterilisation. He remembered the Welfare Generation and the high streets littered with young, single mothers who couldn’t hold down a relationship and didn’t want to work. He was quite happy to see the back of religion and their poisonous grip upon the poor souls who shared its beliefs, or had them imposed upon them. The whole environment to him, as a scientist, appeared to be verging upon some sort of mental illness. Who, in their right mind, would have a beautiful, new baby boy and the first thing they would do was hand it over to have his foreskin cut away. ‘Pass me that sharp stone or flint,’ they would say in the undeveloped countries. ‘Scalpel nurse,’ in the more progressive ones. To Edgar they all seemed to be as bad as each other. If it wasn’t a diagnosed mental illness then it had to be very close to it.
And democracy? Well, it all began with the right intentions but a democratic system had to be closely associated with capitalism, even though they were not compatible. There was no other way for democracy to work, other than for the benefit of the capitalists, and in which case it would only be a matter of time before those with the money bought the society they needed for themselves. As Tibha had pointed out they were already pulling all the strings as far back as when Lord Byron had been complaining about them. It didn’t get him anywhere and complaining about it wouldn’t get anybody else anywhere either. And that was why Edgar had opted for a quiet life. A life under the radar. A life out of focus. But that didn’t stop him from reminiscing from time to time, even though he had no appetite for a return to the old system of society. He felt more liberated now than he ever had been in a free democracy. For a start nobody was letting bombs off on the subway anymore, or in shopping centres. And the freedom from fear is the sweetest freedom a man can feel.
The Corporation gave him that and the Main Board maintained it. After that, he didn’t care what their motives or reasons were. He hoped George didn’t either. But Edgar felt sure he had no intention of making a fuss about what he had learned. After all, that was why Solly had encouraged him to allow George to find the laptop. He was confident George would not want to live in the sort of world he would read about in 2015. That would be the same as him wanting to live in the world his own grandfather had once described.
A world of war with Nazi Germany and Imperialist Japan. Wars that had been written out of history and removed from the archive. Erased and forgotten about, in only a few generations. But he did want him to preserve it. And society may change again during George’s own lifetime. He had his own generation to think about, his own way of life and his own relationships. He studied the boy and could see he was hurting.
‘Are you planning another trip to Cape Town?’ Edgar asked him.
‘No, not for a while,’ said George. He looked up at Edgar. ‘Doesn’t it bother you, they way they fashioned a New Order?’
’There were times in my life George,’ he replied, ‘when I have been ashamed to be a member of the human race, a human being. When I remember how our species treated each other. And, in some parts of the world, still do, in the name of their religion or in the name of national pride, then I am ashamed of my fellow creature and how we developed over the years. In my lifetime I have seen things change for the better. I have seen more empathy, more sympathy, less dogma and much less fear’
‘But what about all those people who were rounded up, sent to the controlled living accommodation and then deported. Did that bother you at all, as it bothers me? And the region of the Middle East that is now in ruins, almost deserted? They were defenceless weren’t they? They didn’t stand a chance against the Corporation.’
’Only a fool George,’ Edgar said carefully, ‘would argue that we fought against and destroyed the weak and defenceless of the planet. We fought the scum of the planet. People whose children and grandchildren will never again try to kill mine, or yours. They started their Jihad and as soon as it looked as if they may prevail, and impose their way of life upon the people in the West, then the powerful people in the West, the Eiderberg Group, hit back. Decisively and once and for all. They were not to be messed with and I couldn’t care less if they did that for their own selfish, stupid religious reasons or not. The end result was the same. And remember, if they had not been quite as fanatical, and ruthless as they were, then maybe the ending would have been very different. Heroes aren't born George, they are forced; they have been cornered. They had no other choice. Maybe you would have done the same thing if you had been living in the sort of society you read about in those newspapers on that laptop.’ Edgar gestured with his glass towards the table.
‘The only thing new in the world is the history we find out about,’ said George thoughtfully. ‘And it is easy to criticise with the benefit of hindsight I suppose.’
‘Critics are like virgins son.’ Edgar drained his glass and reached for the bottle. ‘They know what to do alright; they have seen it done many times on the internet. But they have never done it for themselves.’
George sat down and stirred the ice in his whiskey with a fat finger. Finally he looked across and asked Edgar the question he found the hardest to confront him with. ‘And so what happened to my mother and father?’
Edgar sat back in his chair and paused in thought for a short while. ‘Your mother broke the terms of their marriage licence when she got herself involved in a relationship with another teacher at the ASPP facility. She used to be Head of Literature you know.’
‘Yes, I know,’ George replied. ‘I remember. Was there a scandal?’
‘Only locally. That sort of thing was kept quiet by the Corporation. Only those closely involved really knew anything about it. And those who did weren’t really interested. She broke her contract that was all. As I remember it, she carried on as normal with her contribution, although she knew she would never be able to apply for another family licence. But the chap involved wanted a family of his own and so, within a few years, he had met somebody else, moved to one of the other Divisions and had his family there. Your mother then stayed here on the Complex until you were old enough to enter the Academy and then she applied for a position in the Division of Gaul and moved away.’
George looked down into his glass and pursed his lips. ‘That’s why I have no brothers or sisters. She did come back to visit me from time to time.’ He said fondly.
‘The last time was when you were staying here during your ASPP,’ Edgar reminded him.
‘Maybe I should go and see her,’ George appeared to be thinking out loud.
‘Maybe you should,’ Edgar replied thoughtfully.
‘What about my father?’ George asked him.
‘My grandson,’ Edgar said quietly. ‘He was heartbroken for a while, but he soon got over it and moved on. He hadn’t breached the terms of the contract and so he was able to marry again and have a new family.’
George stood up. He immediately understood the consequences of that announcement. ‘And did he?’ he asked.
‘He was a scientist too.’ Edgar said proudly.
‘And did he?’ George asked again.
‘Ok George, here is the thing,’ Edgar began to explain. ‘He packed up and moved away from the Complex. He was given a transfer to the African Division and became a Head of Department. Once the travelling time to Cape Town was cut from twelve hours to only around ninety minutes he used to come back here quite often and visit his friends. He tried to visit you too but your mother would never allow it. She was still angry and bitter that he had left her when he found out about the affair. She wanted more children but knew they would have to be conceived whilst she was in contract with him. She blamed him for invoking the termination clause. It meant she would never have another chance. She wanted him to stay quiet about it, put up with it. But he wasn’t like that son. He was stubborn, single minded, believed in the truth. A lot like you. Anyway, eventually she disappeared for a few months. I found out later she went off to a retreat of some sort to try and ‘find herself.’ She should have tried looking up her own arse.’
’Did he get married again? Do I have brothers and sisters?’ George patiently asked for a third time. He was beginning to think Edgar was avoiding the question.
’Yes he did George.’ Edgar finally admitted. ‘To a lovely girl from the African Division. She was an artist and a fine one too.’ George looked up at the paintings, prints and sculptures that were scattered around Edgar’s scruffy apartment.
‘You were very close to him weren’t you?’ he said quietly. Edgar remained silent.
‘Are you going to answer the question?’ George finally prompted him.
Edgar took a deep breath and then said, ‘they didn’t have any children son. There are no brothers and sisters. They planned to. They chose a beautiful house in Cape Town, signed a contract and he had a new future ahead of him. He intended to come back for you but your mother simply wouldn’t allow it. She told so many lies about him that in the end even she didn’t live the truth. She was the most bitter and angry person I ever encountered. It makes my skin crawl even thinking about her behaviour when you were younger. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Where is he now?’ George asked. ‘Why did he give up on me?’
’He never did that son,’ Edgar said softly.
‘Are you crying granddad?’ George looked closely at the old man who was holding his glass in front of his face with both hands.
’He never wanted you to know how unspeakably badly your mother behaved,’ he finally said. ‘He didn’t think it was necessary for you to know any of that. She blocked every attempt of his to have any contact with you and to be a part of your life. Eventually he was able to persuade the Human Resources Department that you would be better off living in a stable family environment with him in Cape Town. By then you were about ten-years old and he was coming to take you home.’
Edgar placed his glass down, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his old fraying shirt and then cleared his throat. ‘And that was when the accident happened.’
‘What accident?’ George asked.
’He lost his life George, in a climbing accident somewhere in the African Division. That’s all I know. I never saw him again and I still miss him every day. All I have to remind me of him are those paintings and you. You are very similar to him George. I see him in you every time you come here.’
’He brought you all of this art from Africa when he came to visit didn’t he,’ said George.
‘That’s right son, but not for me. They belong to you. He brought them for you, they are yours.’
George looked again at the paintings he had become so familiar with over the years. And then he asked, ‘and what about the woman he went into contract with?’
‘She was devastated. We all were but she never recovered. She lived in their house as a virtual recluse, surrounded by his things, until she finally fell ill and died. They could have cured her but she refused the treatment. She didn’t want to live.’
George stood up and walked to the window. Gazing out across the Complex he said firmly. ‘The unknown lady who gave me her house. My father’s house. My father’s Jaguar. My father’s furniture, my father’s everything.’
‘Is all yours now George, just as he wanted it to be. Just how he intended it to be. Until that fucking accident. He didn’t have a contract in place but Nancy, the girl he married, she knew how much he missed you. Nancy knew he wanted you to have it all and so she made sure a contract was in place, in your favour, before she died.’
Edgar wiped another tear from the corner of his eye. George said nothing. ‘He was a good boy too George,’ Edgar finally said. ‘He was inquisitive, he asked questions and he wanted to find out for himself who was behind the Corporation. He understood that science was controlling society. Controlling the world. He would come here and ask me all the questions you have. But he never got as far as you son, the accident prevented that.’
‘Why have you never told me any of this before?’ George demanded.
‘Because you have never asked and because I would rather leave things alone son. For a start I have always been suspicious of that so called accident.’
‘You have to write all this down granddad. You can use your old laptop and nobody will ever know. You have to tell the story about the decline of the Great Western Empire. Pretty soon there will be nobody left who remembers anything. About London, for example,’ George swept his hand across the windows, ‘The history of this great city has been simply deleted. My home town, your home town. The home town of my father. You need to tell this story. Write the book. And I will show you how. We can do it together. You are the last man who will remember it all.’
‘No, no, no George,’ Edgar sighed. ‘I am an old man and intend to live my remaining years out of their focus. Religious people are very dangerous George and I don’t know if any of the Main Board members still are, even if their Rapture didn’t materialise in the end. Your father came close to the truth. Now you have found out everything he did and you also know everything I know. Leave it alone. Knowing is enough and when I shuffle on you will be the only one left who has the whole truth, who understands the real history. You can do whatever you want with that information son, write the book yourself if you like, but just be careful. I’m an old man George, it’s you, and not me. You are now the last man in London.
