Little Mice

‍A pair of marble mice, pale and smooth, are entwined together in an eternal embrace. The statue guards the entrance to the Assembly ballroom, though I only glimpse it for a second, as the press of people pushes me forwards. It feels like the whole city is here.
“Hurry up.” Lucile tugs my arm and I almost stumble, inwardly cursing my new silver shoes.Heels too high, straps too tight – but there’s no time to adjust them, for we are swept along with the surging crowd, through the vaulted hallway and into the glittering expanse of the ballroom.
My breath catches. I’ve seen this room so many times before, but no screen could truly capture its magnificence. The high domed ceiling sparkles with a million gold mosaic tiles, scattering light like dancing stars. Even Lucile, my usually composed sister, pauses a moment, her hand falling from my arm.
Hundreds of velvet chairs fan out before the stage – though many of the best are already taken.If Father were here, we’d know exactly where to sit. As the new Chief Enforcer he’d stride straight to the front and the crowds would melt away before him. But Father isn’t with us and the seats are filling quickly.
    “There,” I say, pointing to a pair of empty chairs at the end of the second row. We arrive at the same time as two well-dressed gentlemen, and there is an awkward pause as we all hover in the aisle. The men could be aged anywhere from thirty to eighty – their faces too perfectly smooth to tell.
    Lucile’s fingers flutter to her throat. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s just me and my little sister. We’d be so grateful.” Then she smiles a magnificent smile, flashing her gleaming white teeth.
    The closest man hesitates, his gaze flicking over Lucile, absorbing her silky hair and slender frame. His expression warms. “Of course not. Please ladies, you take them. We’ll find somewhere else.”
    “How kind you are,” says Lucile, sinking down with fluid grace. Her chiffon skirts settle like morning mist against the velvet. I collapse beside her, relieved to finally be off my sore feet. But when I lean over to loosen the straps of my shoes, Lucile stiffens.
    “Stop fidgeting,” she hisses. “And sit up properly.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. It’s like she still thinks I’m seven years old. But I swallow my protest and straighten my back.     Beside Lucile a ringleted woman unfurls a painted fan, waving it languidly in the perfumed warmth. Murmuring conversation fills the air as the remaining seats are claimed. The sense of anticipation builds steadily, until at last, the chandelier lights grow dim.
    “From darkness came light, from cruelty came salvation...”  The narrator’s voice rises from hidden speakers, and I feel a little thrill at the familiar words. Then the Founder appears, and there is a collective intake of breath.
    I’ve never seen Nathaniel Hall in person before. He’s almost more myth than man. I lean forward in my seat, studying his hawkish features, wondering if any of the rumours are true. They say the Founder is over two hundred years old, that he has the highest-ever recorded IQ, that he’s the richest man alive, that he can even read minds. Lucile says it’s nonsense – silly maids’ gossip – and can I please stop being so gullible.    Standing in his signature burgundy suit, Nathaniel Hall surveys the room with amused detachment. He approaches the podium with slow, deliberate steps, then begins the tale he tells every year – the story of two little mice, one old, one young.
‍   A hundred years ago a scientist was studying the effects of ageing, and he decided to sew these two mice together. We grow up with the idea of the conjoined little mice. It appears in our storybooks, in our childish artwork, and even weaves itself into our playground games. The mice mark the beginning of everything we hold dear. Becauseafter they were sewn together their blood vessels began to merge. Blood from the younger mouse flowed into the older one, and the scientist began noticing miraculous changes.
   The Founder pauses, letting his words sink in. And it’s in this perfect moment of stillness that something on the periphery catches my eye. From my place at the row’s edge I see an Enforcer. He slips in through a side door, edges along the wall, then gestures urgently to someone offstage. The nerve of him – during the Founder’s address! The Enforcer is lucky my father’s not here.
    Oblivious to what’s happening, Nathaniel Hall continues. But as he describes the discoveries which followed that first experiment, my attention is fractured, still watching the Enforcer. It isn’t until the Founder reaches the climax of his speech that my focus snaps back, as his imperious voice rises to fill the hushed ballroom.
   “Never before have we been so fortunate,” he says. “Never before have we been so blessed. Health is everything. Nothing matters more. Money, power, love, these are all meaningless without health.”
The speech ends to rapturous applause, and the Assembly anthem plays. The music swells around us as we stand, hands pressed fervently to our hearts. The Founder’s family files onto the stage, arranging themselves in a line at his side.
On the far left is Prudence, his granddaughter. Like me, she is nearly seventeen. We were in the same class at school. She has glossy auburn hair twisted up into a bun and usually wears an expression of bored nonchalance. I know that now the speech is over she will summon me, and despite my sore feet, I tingle at the thought.
    It still feels strange being in Prudence’s clique. When I first started at the Academy, I was merely a mid-ranking Enforcer’s daughter, far below the notice of Prudence and her friends. I’d watch them at breaktime from behind my books, eavesdrop on their talk of extravagant parties, marvel at their witty ways. They ignored me of course, but I didn’t mind. I knew their status was far above mine.
    Then Father became Chief Enforcer, and everything changed. We were awarded an apartment upgrade and additional servants, and the very next day Prudence Hall sought me out. “You can join our table for lunch if you like.” An arched smile curved her lips as she spoke. “You must be overjoyed by your father’s promotion. It was quite unexpected.”
   “Yes, I’m very proud of him.”
    It felt like the right answer, and I wasn’t lying. I am proud of my father. He’s a serious man, stern and uncompromising. Unafraid to call out corruption when he finds it. They say that’s why he was chosen for the role of Chief Enforcer, though other candidates had more experience.
    “I never see him though,” I confessed. “He’s always working.”
    For a moment Prudence’s mask slipped, revealing something wistful beneath the jaded exterior. “Yes, I know what that’s like,” she sighed. “I don’t think my mother said more than ten words to me last week.” 
    Was that the moment that bonded us? That second of shared vulnerability? Prudence was quick to recover. “Of course there are benefits.” She shot me a sly, sideways look. “Busy parents are less interfering, so we get to have more fun.” She laughed at my expression. “Astra, you’re so serious. Don’t worry, I’ll loosen you up.”
    Just like that, I became part of her inner circle, a glorious bubble of glamour and gossip. And where Prudence leads, everyone follows. Invitations flooded in – to outings, spa days and sleepovers. Now graduation beckons with a perfect summer of freedom ahead, and this year I’m invited to everything.
    As if she can sense my thoughts, Prudence glances down. Her eyes flash with a conspiratorial gleam and she inclines her head to the left. As the anthem’s final notes fade away, I murmur my excuses to Lucile and prepare to follow Prudence as she files off stage.
     But beyond the front row, I glimpse the Enforcer from earlier striding towards an advisor. The advisor’s face darkens at the whispered message, and within seconds a solemn group has encircled the Founder, debating in quiet yet agitated tones.
    My pulse quickens as I watch the exchange, but I’m too far away to hear anything. Prudence however is closer, and as she glides past, she slows her graceful steps, pausing a moment to adjust her gown.
    When I reach Prudence, her face is alight with barely contained excitement.
    “What’s happened?” I ask. But before Prudence can speak, we are surrounded by a swarm of other Academy girls.
    The familiar chorus begins. “You’re absolutely glowing,” and “Your skin is flawless.” Most are aimed at Prudence who looks especially striking in a sleek, sapphire silk. Prudence catches my eye, rolling hers briefly at the fawning compliments, then lifts her hand until the chatter falls away.
    “I’ve just heard the most desperate news.” Her voice is a low thrilling whisper, and we all lean in to listen. “There has been a blood robbery. They aren’t announcing it publicly yet. They don’t want to spoil Founder’s Day.”
    Everyone looks stunned, then excited squeals break out. “Oh my god!” “How awful!” “I can’t believe it!”
    I’m still frozen. Seized by the cold shock of the words, for this isn’t just any crime. A blood robbery! There must be some mistake. Blood plasma is the foundation of our society – it keeps people healthy and delays ageing – and the blood vault is heavily guarded.
‍ ‍This must be why Father’s not here.Why he left so abruptly before. For a second, I’m almost relieved. No one can complain about his absence now. Then reality needles in. As the new Chief Enforcer, Father has yet to prove himself. His rapid promotion caused quite a stir, but catching these criminals would silence his critics.
    But what if he fails? The idea blooms darkly. If he fails, Father will fall out of favour. He could even be replaced. My stomach drops as I digest this thought. The disgrace of a dismissal would ruin our family. Father, Lucile, me… we’d become social outcasts.
    Suddenly I can’t bear it – the stifling ballroom, the huddle of girls, their inane chatter and high-pitched squealing.
    Quietly, I slip away from the group and head towards the balcony. It is a clear, cloudless evening and I grip the railings gazing out. The sun has lowered, leaving behind a deep indigo sky. Below tiny dots scurry around, and I glance down, wondering who they are, what their lives are like.
    I haven’t set foot on the ground in years. Father says it’s crowded, grimy and germ-ridden, and anyway, everything we need is up here. We call it the Canopy Complex – our miniature city in the clouds. Nathaniel Hall built it as a haven during the bad times, and it’s where all high-ranking Assembly members reside.
    I take a deep breath, savouring the fresh air, cool and crisp after the perfumed ballroom. I don’t know why I feel so worried. Father is brilliant and capable. He’ll catch the criminals. The blood will be recovered.
    But for some reason the fear remains, niggling and persistent. I shake my head and take another deep breath.
    Night settles around me. Two early stars, suspended against the sultry backdrop, gleam like the diamond earrings Father bought me last birthday.
    I’ll be seventeen tomorrow.
    Lucile has planned an enormous party. When she first mentioned the idea, I pleaded for something small and intimate. “Just Prudence and a few others will be fine. I don’t want a massive fuss.” Lucile pretended to listen, nodding her beautiful head, smiling enigmatically, then immediately invited everyone we knew anyway. Lucile loves socialising. Twenty-five and a natural extrovert, she’ll be in there now, mingling, charming the room. I suppose I should join her, but I can’t help lingering. My new social world is exhilarating but exhausting, and tonight more than ever, I need these moments alone.
    “Ahem.”
    The sound comes from behind, and I realise I am not alone after all. I turn to discover that sitting, almost hidden in a leafy alcove, is Gideon Leigh.
    I blink, startled. TheGideon Leigh. As the lead scientist behind the plasma revolution, Gideon is almost as revered as the Founder. I try not to stare, but his face is so familiar. The deep-set eyes and prominent nose grace the cover of every science book at school.
    “Sorry,” I manage finally. “Am I disturbing you?” Gideon is a famous recluse these days, rarely appearing in public.
    “You aren’t disturbing me at all. You’re Astra Fairwood, aren’t you?”
    “Yes,” I say, surprised he knows my name.  
    “I was with your father this morning,” Gideon explains. “I was hoping to catch him again here, actually. Do you know where he is?” Gideon turns, scanning the room through the balcony doors.
    “I’m sorry, Father was called away.” I feel my cheeks redden. “Because of the blood robbery,” I add quickly, then immediately regret the words. Never discuss official matters; it’s one of Father’s many rules.
    Gideon’s eyes widen, and he considers for a second. “Perhaps you can help me then. Your father dropped this when we were together.” He reaches inside his jacket and removes a delicate turquoise box. “Would you give it to him?”
    I hold out my hand, but Gideon grips the box as if reluctant to let it go. “It’s important,” he stresses, “for your father… as soon as you see him.”
    “I promise,” I reply.
    The box is tied with a pretty white ribbon, and as it falls into my palm, I feel a tingle of excitement. Father mentioned picking up my birthday present – something he’d had specially made. It is small and light, the turquoise paper soft yet substantial with a slight embossed texture. The box fits easily in my clutch purse, and as I slip it inside, my fingers itch to open it. But I resist the temptation. I’d rather wait for the proper time – tomorrow on my birthday, with Father.
   There’s an uncomfortable silence. “We covered your plasma experiments at the Academy,” I say, in an effort to fill the void. Brilliant, Astra. Tell the genius you’ve studied him at school. Though strangely Gideon seems as awkward as me.
    He flushes. “I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t find that too dull.”
    “Not at all, they were fascinating. The way you isolated the regenerative factors was...” I trail off, aware I’ve begun babbling.
    Gideon offers me a rueful smile and stands, patting my arm. “My dear, it was lovely meeting you, but I think it’s time I headed home. These gatherings,” he gestures vaguely through the doors, “I’ve never liked them.” He glances down at my clutch purse, now bulging slightly with the turquoise box. “Remember, as soon as you see your father.”

‍Re-entering the ballroom, I catch snippets of conversation.
“But I’m booked into the plasma clinic tomorrow!” wails one woman.
“They can’t have emptied the whole blood vault. How would that be possible?”
“Surely there are backup supplies for important Assembly members.”
It may not have been officially announced yet, but everyone seems to know about the robbery.
    I can’t see Prudence anywhere, and the Founder has gone too. He’s probably holding crisis talks somewhere. Has Father joined him? I wonder. Or is he still at the blood vault gathering evidence?
    “Astra. There you are!” Lucile grasps my arm. “Have you heard the news?”
    “Yes,” I nod. Our eyes meet, and Lucile’s grip tightens on my skin. I know what she’s thinking. This will be Father’s first test since he became Chief Enforcer. The stakes are high, and he’ll be under a great deal of pressure. To keep his position, he must catch the criminals.
    “I hope this doesn’t affect our party tomorrow,” Lucile says.
     What? Okay, maybe we aren’t on the same page after all.
    Dante Knight from the Justice Core strolls over, messy blond fringe falling over twinkly eyes.
    “I suppose you’ve heard about the robbery. Quite shocking, isn’t it?” Dante’s gaze darts about mischievously. “But people do rather enjoy being shocked, don’t they? So, my lovelies, has your father been in touch? Any suspects yet? Any little nuggets you can impart?”
    This is typical Dante – firing off questions but rarely waiting for answers, and always desperate for juicy gossip.     “There’s been no word from Father since this morning,” I say.
    “What a shame. He’s certainly going to be busy for a while. So tell me ladies, what are your plans now? Sadly, I am all alone this evening.”
    “Why?” I ask. “Where are Keely and Joshua?”
    “They’re at the Plasma Clinic. Honestly, my wife! She never listens to me.” Dante’s twinkle fades to a petulant pout. “I’ve told her not to leave her appointments to the last moment, it’s dangerous with her health history. And this robbery means there are bound to be shortages. Thank goodness I was at the plasma clinic last week. I should be fine until new blood stocks arrive.” Dante sighs, smoothing down his white judges’ robes. “Anyway, I’ve decided to escort you lovely girls home. With criminals on the loose, we can’t be too careful. I’m sure your father would agree.”
    “How thoughtful,” says Lucile. “And I hope you’ll stay until Father returns. I’ll feel so much safer with you around.” She rests a hand on Dante’s arm, holding his gaze. “We can continue our conversation from the other night – you were telling me about the Blood Laws. The way you explain things is so clever.”
    I start to protest. When Father gets home, he’s bound to be tired. He won’t want Dante pestering him for gossip about the robbery. But it’s too late, for Dante has already agreed with a beam so wide I think his face will break in two.
    Does he really believe Lucile’s flattering nonsense? He must do, because all through the skyway journey back, Dante drones on and on about the different Blood Laws, when they were enacted, and why they are important. I tune out most of it, staring through the walls of the glass lift cabin as it weaves between canopy towers. My thoughts keep returning to Father and the robbery. Who would dare rob the blood vault? How did they get in? Dante’s warning of shortages weighs on me too. Lucile and I are too young to be affected, but a plasma shortage could cause public unrest – and mean more work for Father.
    The worries circle as I shift on my feet, trying to ease the pinch in my shoes. Wretched things. If it weren’t for Dante, I’d do the remaining journey barefoot. 
    We reach our floor, and the skyway door opens. That’s when I see them – two Enforcers waiting by our apartment. Their helmets rest in their hands, their faces are solemn.
    Everyone falls silent and my skin prickles. The sight of Enforcers without Father feels wrong. I glance at Lucile, but she’s staring straight ahead, her face suddenly pale.
    “Can I help you, gentlemen?” I ask. Then a terrible possibility takes root. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Until they speak, there is a sliver of hope. But I cannot stop them. The Enforcers deliver their message, though my mind catches only fragments.
‍ ‍Robbery.
    Gunshot.
Father.
Dead.   

END OF CHAPTER ONE

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