EDGE OF DAY

CHAPTER TEN

Day wiped her mouth and headed back to the van. Will stepped aside, and she climbed up, sagging into the seat.

"You all right?" he asked.

She nodded, but her thoughts warred between the disgust she felt at the thing attached to her brain, and the fear that when they removed it, they would annihilate her. Would Monday remember her? Would Day's thoughts and feelings become part of Monday once she'd gone?

Will knocked on the partition, showing the driver they were ready to go. Then he sat back, and she felt him studying her.

"The slug," he said, "is bioorganic matter holding together a nexus of beliefs. These beliefs act like a wash of color over your memories."

"It's a living thing though, isn't it?"

"It's part organic, part software. But you are the one powering it, nothing else. It's not some independent entity. You are no more or no less than Monday. The slug simple forces you to reinterpret your memories through the veil of its software. The hardware, you, is the same. In some ways, it's no different to all the other software that's shaped who you are—the environment you grew up in, your parents, the media, they're all software that have shaped your beliefs. There's nothing inherently bad in it."

The van slowed and rocked over bumpy ground.

His words helped, but it didn't change the fact that Monday wanted her life back and for her to get it, Day would have to be obliterated. It didn't change the fact that Day hadn't got a clue what was going on.

Monday had wanted the Vedas to abduct her so she could go 'deep undercover', but what was she hoping to discover in the process? Who were the Vedas and why would they want to take her and hide her away under Ed's watchful eye?

Another wave of sickness washed through Day. If Ed had been her prison guard, had the house and everything she did been under surveillance? And if she was a problem for the Vedas, why hadn't they just gotten rid of her?

She glanced at Will. He sat with his eyes closed smiling to himself. The way he did on his videos. It was what he called 'altering your mirror'. If you wanted to be the creator of your reality, you had to stop paying attention to what was going on outside yourself, and pay attention to the inside. It had made her laugh when he'd done it in front of an audience, as though they weren't even there. It had amused her when he really didn't pay any attention to 'the mirror.' Now it didn't seem quite so charming. More like crazy.

The road got too bumpy for the van to keep going.

"This is us," Will said.

He opened the door and light flooded Day's eyes. Her eyelashes flapped together like butterfly wings. The warm air singed her nostrils and reminded her of the uncomfortable, slick wetness of her back.

Will descended and went around to talk to the driver. She leaned from the sliding door, following him with her gaze. He stopped before the driver's lowered window, but she couldn't hear their conversation. When he returned, he indicated for her to follow him.

They walked between two tall buildings, the van crawling along behind them. As they went deeper into the crack, the light dulled. After a few meters, camouflage tarpaulin strung between first-floor office windows of the buildings blocked out the sky. The van stopped.

From above, the narrow track between the buildings would look like it had been overrun by vegetation. No van in sight. Day was grateful to see Will wasn't relying entirely on the power of his thoughts to save them. He was prepared and practical.

Further up the track, he led them into a small warehouse which Day guessed was once a wine distillery, or some other food or drink processing factory she couldn't quite imagine.