It was after Bertie saw the full devastation that he went back to stop his father from like, doing the suicide thing.
‘Harry is, like, really big,’ Bertie says, giving voice to the thoughts in his head. ‘Like, totally make a bigger chair for him. Dad said Safa’s beautiful, but, like, totally tough, and you aren’t allowed to tell her you think she is beautiful. But if someone is beautiful, why would they be angry? I mean, like . . . everyone is, like, beautiful, and you should say that so they feel good . . . You’re beautiful, Miri.’
She blinks with an exceptionally rare flicker of surprise as Ria chuckles softly.
‘What about me?’ Ria asks him.
‘You’re, like, my sister,’ Bertie says, pulling a face.
‘I am your sister – I’m not like anything.’
‘Hang on,’ he blurts with a grin. ‘Like . . . if I put this in here now . . . and . . . ’ He detaches an old MP3 player from the solar panel charge he has also made and attaches a wire leading from the circuit board to the inside of the radio. A hiss, and then the music comes. Played from the MP3 player, but routed through the speakers of the radio, which give a wonderful crackle to the Spanish guitar music. ‘Haha! Got music now,’ he says, nodding at the old radio with obvious glee.
‘Well done,’ Miri says, seeing the look of absolute pleasure on his face. ‘Ria, do I need to go through everything with you again?’
‘No,’ she says while watching her brother. ‘I can’t think of anything.’
‘Is there anything you have not told me?’
‘No,’ Ria says thoughtfully, ‘I really don’t think there is.’
Ria is three years younger than her brother, and although intelligent, she is nowhere near the level of genius of Bertie. No one is near Bertie. My brother is an anomaly. Ria led what she believes is a normal life. It was hard when her dad committed suicide, but they got through it. Her mother had a series of relationships, but nothing really lasted. Malcolm and Konrad stayed working for the family estate until they died in a car accident in 2052. Ria explained that Bertie was more upset about that than at any other time they had ever seen. Malc and Kon. They were always down in the basement, drinking tea and listening to Bertie’s ideas and seeing the things he had made. Ria suspected that hidden away in the layers of Bertie’s unique mind was the thought that he could also save them. Who knows? Only Bertie knows what he thinks, and even if he told us, we wouldn’t understand it.
Ria was completely overwhelmed when Roland came back. It had been fifteen years since his death, and of course Ria and her mother had to deal with the fact that he looked the same as the day he had left. They had aged, grown, matured and developed, but he had not. Roland had walked out of the family home, and walked back into it fifteen years later, but for him it was the same day.
Roland did not discuss his plans. He did not go out, and once the shock of his family seeing him again wore off, he set about trying to do what he could to save the world. What exactly he did, he kept to himself. Neither Ria nor her mother had any idea that he had brought back Malc and Kon.
Gradually, over the months that passed, her father became the man she remembered. Busy, and absorbed entirely in himself. Ria saw her mother at first become rejuvenated at being reunited with her husband, but then Susan began to worry that she was suddenly too old for him. She had cosmetic surgery and started wearing younger clothes. Ria watched her mother slowly breaking down from being reunited with her dead husband only to see him growing as cold as he always was.
‘And you?’ Miri had asked, examining the woman’s non-verbal communications closely. ‘Tell me about you.’
‘Nothing to say. My family are wealthy, so I was bred to be a shallow creature of greed . . .’
That was the first answer. Short, and filled with a grief-ridden show of self-loathing, but gradually Miri drew the woman out and thanked the gods of fortuitous fate for letting Ria get through the portal.
‘That was the last debrief,’ Miri announces, closing her notepad.
‘What now?’ Ria asks after a few seconds of silent thought. ‘Do we just stay here?’
‘I have tasks for you both,’ Miri says, her tone gradually firming from the soft, caring manner to that of a person in charge of the mission.
‘Tasks?’ Ria asks, showing surprise as she looks at Miri. ‘What tasks?’
‘You designed sets and costumes for a holographic film production company. I need . . .’
‘Oh no,’ Ria says, cutting in quickly. ‘I said I helped out . . . I only did it as a hobby because mother knew the wife of the . . .’
‘Do not interrupt me, Miss Cavendish.’
Ria closes her mouth. Miri’s tone wasn’t loud or harsh, but the sudden authority in the woman renders Ria silent.
‘The bunker is sterile. It needs soft-furnishings, furniture, colours . . . I have neither the time nor the inclination to do it. My team will not have the time to do it. You will do it.’
‘But . . .’
‘Ben’s mental health decline was brought on by a combination of shock and the medications he was given when he arrived. Doctor Watson firmly believes the severe, austere environment played a significant part in that. You will work to prevent that happening again. We also need clothes for different time periods . . .’
‘Oh my god, Miri . . . are you being serious?’ Ria asks, rising to her feet with a look of panic.
‘I am always serious.’
‘Miri, listen . . .’
‘I have listened. It is my job to listen. It is also my job to make decisions and delegate. You have a role in this. You are here, and your presence will mean we do not have to extract someone else to do that role.’
‘I am in grief right now,’ Ria says, hardening her voice.
‘Work helps grief. It occupies the mind. You can choose to remain here with your brother or come back to the bunker and reside there. You can move between the two by asking me to open the portal to enable it to happen. The other members of the team can also come here if they so wish. This is a pleasant environment and it was chosen specifically for that reason.’
‘No. I am not going anywhere near that bunker if my father is there. He ran off and left us. My mother is dead because of him . . .’
‘Your father is not returning to the bunker. He is no longer a part of this. I am not asking. You will work. Do you understand?’
Ria stares open-mouthed and shocked.
‘Expediency matters,’ Miri continues. All trace of softness gone. Her words are flat, dull and hard. ‘It will be done as quickly as possible . . .’
‘Maria’s, like, totally awesome at decorating and stuff. Like, she helped Mum do the house and bought my clothes and helped Mum get new stuff when Dad came back and . . .’
‘Bertie! You are not helping,’ Ria snaps.
‘Bertie, can you make another device?’ Miri asks, turning from Ria to the man now working the back off a large tablet.