“Seconded,” Thibault added.
“Thirded,” Taka smiled. “Or Fived. Whatever.”
“You’re all impossible!” Addison cried, throwing his hands up in despair. “We’re leaving certain safety for certain death.”
“This place is certain death,” Hannah replied.
“Out there we can continue the good works,” Taka said. “For as long as we’re able. Isn’t that what you wanted? To do something that mattered?”
Addison looked around from face to face, realising he’d lost. But also, more than that: he was wrong. Staying here may indeed be safer, but out there with the Last Samaritans his life would matter. If he saved just one person, alleviated just an ounce of suffering before the end finally came, then it would be worth it. Out there he could make his own meaning. And of course, he would be with Taka.
In the end, it wasn’t even a choice.
“Oh alright, fine,” Addison smiled, slumping back in his chair. “It’s only the end of the world.”
* * *
They met in the viewing room at the top of the pyramid. Addison hadn’t been here since his first day in the institute, and now he studied the walls more closely, he thought he could make some sense of them. The pictures were biological but also clearly artistic, spirals and strands that spoke to Addison of thought, of synapses, of the fluid, tumbling nature of the human mind. This was leveller art, consciousness depicted visually, a chronicle of how genetics wove together human history. But there was also something faintly reverential about the inscriptions, religious, and Addison knew instinctively that the room was the leveller equivalent of a church.
The Last Samaritans’ exit was a seamless rectangle cut into the sloping wall. Through the forcefield the dying planet swirled, yellow-brown and hazy. Addison could just make out a ramp leading to a vehicle-shaped shadow hovering in the gloom. Inside, the Commander stood by the threshold. He was alert, watchful, waiting for them to decide.
Five who spoke first.
“I’d once again like to thank you for your kindness,” the grey man said. “My former associates have all fled back into the wastelands, but I now have a place with you. For this I am eternally grateful. I am guilty of so much, I cannot ever repay you.”
“You can repay us by helping,” Hannah said.
“Besides,” Taka said, slapping him on the shoulder. “We’re all guilty of something, eh?”
“Some of us more than others.”
They stood a few moments longer, marvelling at the enormity of what they were about to do. Addison wondered if anyone would quail at the final moment, decide it was all a terrible mistake and scurry down into the safety of the pyramid.
He should have known better.
“Time to go,” Hannah said, clapping her hands. “Thibault, Five, let’s give these two some privacy.”
One by one, the trio stepped up to the window. As they passed, the Commander placed a small black square on their chests. It expanded rapidly, running over their skin like oil on water until each was clad in the same black skinsuits as the marines. With a final backwards glance, they each crossed the aperture out into the whirlwind. Hunched against the wind, Hannah led them across the ramp until they were swallowed by the gloom.
“Simple as that,” Taka said.
By the aperture, the Commander was looking restless, ready to depart. But Addison had one final question
“Can I ask you something?”
“If you’re quick.”
“The levellers,” he pressed. “The quintet. Whoever they were. You never said you didn’t agree with them.”
“We do not agree with them.”
“Not their methods, their accusation. That people from my time were to blame for all this, that we killed the planet.”
“That is not a question, Mr. Moore.”
“Did we? Were we responsible?”
The Commander paused, and in that pause Addison learnt everything he needed to know. In that tiny moment of hesitation the Samaritan made it clear exactly who he held accountable, exactly who he felt was to blame for the devastation raging outside.
Addison knew because he agreed with him.
“It is of no import,” the Commander replied eventually. “What’s done is done. Now, I must depart. If you are indeed joining us, hold these devices to your chest. And please, the aperture is failing. Do not delay.”
He left two black squares on a ledge, then strode out into the storm leaving Addison and Taka by themselves.
“All alone,” Taka said, looking around.
There was a whistling and a faintly acrid smell, but it was distant, remote. It made Addison think of his old life, remote now as anything. Looking back, his life before the institute – his career, his flatshare, his long-dead parents in their ancient bungalow with their prehistoric beliefs – it all seemed so pale and insubstantial. Real life was here in this ruined place, with his friends, where he mattered.
And all Addison could see was Taka. All he could feel was his hand gripping his, his pulse, the sway of his clothes in the growing breeze.
“I’m scared, Tak,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Taka replied, audible despite the intensifying gale. “This time was a gift. And any more is just a bonus. We’ll be together, that’s what matters.”
“No meaning but the meaning you make,” Addison whispered.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, nothing. Let’s get out of here.”
They donned their suits and turned to the exit. The forcefield was failing now, Addison could feel grit on his face and the dull roar was creeping up in volume. Squinting, he could just see the distant vessel out in the storm. Inside, figures were beckoning across the void, urging them to hurry. There was a low rumble beneath their feet and the gale jumped once again in volume.
“Are we sure?” he shouted. “We can stay.”
“Don’t chicken out on me now,” Taka yelled back, grinning recklessly. “Like you said, it’s only the end of the world.”
“I’m glad I found you,” Addison cried, gripping Taka’s hand.
“I’m glad we found each other.”
The aperture was pulsing, crackling around the edges, losing integrity.
“Time to go?” Addison shouted.
Taka patted his arm.
“No time like the present.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
And hand in hand, side by side, they walked out into the maelstrom.
