Democracy is Dead

Chapter Forty

Dyo was barely more than two steps away from the bar when he contacted Ismene.

Hey, Ismene. Sephy mentioned a couple of months ago that you knew how to hack someone else's glasses and trick them into believing you were them, so that they'd work for you. Any chance you could send me some instructions? - Dyo

You know we're banned from contacting you, right? - Ismene

The fact that she was replying meant that she would be willing to help. She was probably writing the instructions out already for him. The knot that had formed in his chest loosened slightly. Dyo had expected to be immediately ostracised from the group, but Athena and Ismene hadn't abandoned him and he'd win the others back over as soon as he'd proven he was on their side.

Already? News travels fast. - Dyo

Orion sent out an instant alert. Bree replied straight away. We were all watching the group feed for updates anyway after that blast. - Ismene

He could forgive Orion for his mistrust - Sephy was his world and he wouldn't risk anything that would put her in danger. At the moment, Dyo represented that risk. He was also the only person Orion could directly take his anger out on. Dyo hadn't noticed this conversation on the group feed though, which was odd - it had been busy before Athena's return to the bar.

I've had to remove your access. Bree's orders. I'm sorry. Ismene sent in response to the question he'd been about to ask. Like I said, we're banned from all contact with you.

And when has being banned from something ever stopped you? - Dyo

You'd think Bree would have realised by now that it usually has the opposite effect, wouldn't you? Anyway, here's those instructions. I'm not going to ask what you want them for, because it's probably better that I don't know. Good luck, Dyo. - Ismene

Thanks, Ismene. You too. - Dyo

He felt a pang in his chest as he wondered what kind of escape Bree was in the midst of planning, wishing that he could be involved, hoping that Athena wasn't going to be putting herself in more danger.

With a bit of luck and the instructions Ismene had sent him, he'd be able to get Sephy out on his own before Bree could put her plan into action. He would save his friends from his father, no matter what the cost.

His house was to the south of the old palace. Dyo would have happily moved out years ago, but his father insisted that he stayed and going directly against Jason Leighton's wishes was easier said than done. Dyo had long since learnt that small rebellions and twisting his father's instructions were the best ways to get by. Besides, the house was large enough that they rarely came into contact with each other, instead coming and going as they pleased more in the fashion of an awkward flat share than a family. And every now and again - like now - it would give Dyo access to Freedom Institute information or tech that the group could put to good use. He guessed Bree would now be reassessing all of his previous easy successes.

Dyo opened the ornate front door with more stealth than he would usually employ, closing it softly behind him. Even with the night's excitement, he expected his father to be fast asleep in bed - dreaming of world domination, or crushing the happiness of helpless puppies and stealing ice cream from small children, or whatever else evil dictators spent their time imagining. If his plan to save Sephy was going to stand a chance, he needed his father to continue dreaming deeply.

He softly removed his boots and placed them on the mat by the door. The marble floor shone softly in the moonlight that drifted in through the windows, illuminating his path to the staircase so there was no need to turn on the elaborate crystal chandelier that hung from the hallway's ceiling. The townhouse was spread over three floors. With only two of them living there, Dyo had the first floor all to himself, while his father kept to the top floor of the house whenever he was at home. Dyo padded softly up the first two stairwells and into his father's domain.

While he'd frequented his father's office plenty of times over the past few years - both while his father was present, and usually admonishing him, and while he was at work, and Dyo was hunting for information - he hadn't been into the room which belonged to his parents since his mum had died, and that had happened beyond the limits of his memory. So when he gently opened the door that led into his father's bedroom, he was relying on the night vision app on his glasses to orientate himself. From the four poster bed in the centre of the room came the soft sounds of his father snoring. And there, on the table beside the bed, were his goal: his father's glasses.

He crept towards the table, barely daring to breath. Six more steps. Five more steps. He could do this. Four more steps. His father groaned. Dyo froze, waiting for an interrogation that never came. His father rolled over and drifted deeper into his sleep. Dyo started forwards once more. Three more steps. Two more steps. One more step.

They were there in front of him, gold gilded frames folded neatly behind them, lying on the top of a plush velvet stand of royal blue. Dyo grinned, reached out, and took them. He remained motionless for a moment longer, waiting to see if his father would stir; awakened by some subconscious knowledge that his glasses were gone. But he slept on.

Still grinning, Dyo crept out of the room and back to the relative safety of his own bedroom. Once inside, he read through Ismene's detailed instructions one last time before he launched the hack and connected his own glasses to his father's. He waited the agonising two minutes Ismene said it would take for the virus to download, all of his senses on hyper-alert for potential sounds of his father stirring above him. Once an agonising one hundred and twenty seconds had passed, he picked up his father's glasses and put them on his face.

They whirred softly as they kicked into action.

Greetings, Jason Leighton ran the interface.

Dyo grinned. So far so good... A quick search on his walk home had identified the warden of the prison as a Mr Conway. Now all Dyo needed to do was send him a message.

Dear Mr Conway, after extensive investigation, the Freedom Institute have come to the conclusion that Ms Taylor was not attempting to bomb our headquarters this evening. We apologise profusely for this mistake. Given public opinion on this matter, I feel that the safest course of action would be to release Ms Taylor immediately. I will then issue a full statement on the matter in the morning.

Dyo read back through the message, to see if anything needed tweaking. It sounded professional and to the point, an order to be carried out rather than a request; exactly like something his father would send out. It was perfect. Sephy would be out in time to meet Orion for breakfast and this whole mess would be behind them.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Dionysus?" The voice was tinged with weary frustration, rather than the anger Dyo would have expected. He looked around to see his father in the doorway to his room, rubbing his frame-less eyes, his face creased with a scowl of deep irritation.

Send. Send. He just had to think send. But in his panic, Dyo's brain froze. He remained thoughtless as his father swept into the room and pulled the glasses firmly from his face. As he read the message Dyo had been about to send his scowl deepened.

Dyo's heart sank. So close. He'd been so close to sending that message. So close to undoing the wrongs his father had committed and saving Sephy.

"You've shown initiative, I'll give you that," his father said at last, surprising Dyo. His mood dropped further; he didn't want his father's praise, he wanted fury prompted by his success. "If only you'd be more willing to use these talents in the Institute; you'd have such a bright future ahead of you." He reached forwards, picking up Dyo's own glasses and slipping them into his back pocket as he retreated from the room. He paused in the doorway, yawning. "I'll deal with you properly in the morning," he said before turning off the light and closing the door, leaving Dyo alone in darkness.

{While preparing the last two chapters to post this morning, I realised I'd forgotten one! This chapter should have been thirty eight. Luckily, it still just about makes sense if you read it here - apologies for abandoning the action in the prison. Hit vote (assuming you liked this chapter!) then scroll on to return to Athena's escape plan...}