Cured Read online

  Cured

  Title Page

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Cured.

  Part One of The Olympia Trilogy.

  By Diana Clarke.

  Copyright 2014 Diana Clarke

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Author’s Note

  About Author

  Acknowledgements

  To my family, my friends and my flatmates. Sorry you had to put up with my craziness whilst I wrote this. And thank you for loving me anyway.

  Chapter 1

  January ninth of the year 2118 wasn’t a particularly remarkable day. In fact was a very ordinary day. One of those days where the sky is grey and vowed to stay grey all day. There wasn’t going to be rain; the clouds are not so dark to suggest they had committed to a downpour. But there wasn’t going to be sun; the clouds said they would not rain, but they were just as determined to remain sewn together, covering the city in a sheet of grey.

  It was just one of those grey days where everything was meant to be ordinary and I was meant to wake and eat and learn and talk and drink and laugh and sleep. That is why one should never trust the whether. When Mum says take an umbrella because you never know what could happen, she is right. You never know. You never know when that resolute greyness will abandon all promises and tear, thread by thread, right through the middle, to reveal what could either be either a brilliant blue, or a thundering storm.

  It’s interesting that we trust the sky, really. Because all of its oaths to stay or to storm are sworn from nowhere but within our own imaginations. And when Louisa drew my curtains that grey morning, the sky made no mention of the events that were to come on that grey, ordinary, grey day.

  I winced at the blinding greyness that the comfort of my curtains had prevented, well, not prevented, but concealed from me at least. Sometimes grey is more blinding than the most brilliant sun.

  Then Louisa wrenched the duvet from my clutches, exposing my pyjama-clad body to the four maids that stood, bowed into deep curtseys, at the foot of my four-poster.

  I grumbled at the unwelcome interruption to my slumber, and my stomach responded with an echoing growl.

  But then I caught whiff of the enticing aroma of fresh cheese scones floating upstairs from the kitchen and into my bedroom, and my mood was instantly lifted.

  “Scones?” I asked Louisa, who was instantly forgiven for her alarm clock behaviour.

  “I baked them fresh this morning, ma’am,” she replied, reaching for my hand and helping me to my feet.

  I kissed my favourite maid’s cheek in thanks and jammed my feet into my favourite bunny rabbit slippers.

  “My name is not ma’am, Louisa, my name is Avery,” I said for the billionth time. Louisa, as usual, simply winked, her rosy complexion becoming redder and her broad smile stretching her already very plump cheeks.

  I had just made it my bedroom door when, “Avery. Is that you, my dear?” came the soft croon of my mother’s tone from the bottom of the stairway. An involuntary groan escaped my lips. It was too early to handle my mother.

  “Avery, dear, a lady never ever groans,” she glided up the staircase and scrutinized my appearance before scrunching her powdered nose, “And nor does a lady arise from her slumber without preparing herself for the day.”

  I began to grumble again, but, upon seeing the expression on my mother’s face, quickly disguised it as a cough. Mother frowned. I rolled my eyes, and retreated backwards. It wasn’t worth the fight.

  In my room, the Norm maids were already bustling around, making my bed and vacuuming the carpet. When I returned they stopped cleaning and curtseyed so low that I thought they might topple over. They apologized profusely for no reason all whilst refusing to make eye contact. I always felt uncomfortable when they did this, so I ignored them and walked over to my WallScreen. I touched the Wall and it flickered to life.

  “Good morning Avery Rose,” it said in its animated voice. “What can I do for you at eight-fifteen, January ninth?” I waited patiently for the wall to finish its spiel and then touched the ‘WallDrobe’ button. “Clothes!” said the Wall cheerfully, “What would you like to wear today Avery Rose?”

  I touched the ‘Randomise’ key and an outfit appeared on the screen. Black denim shorts and a plain white singlet with my favourite white leather sneakers. I longed to wear the outfit, but I wanted to be on Mother’s good side today in the hope that she would let me see my friends tonight. I pushed the ‘Formal Attire’ key, which was sure to come up with something more to Mother’s taste. The next outfit that appeared on the screen was a ridiculous, frilly pink tunic that looked like meringue. Mother would have been thrilled to see me in such a gown, but I couldn’t stand the thought of spending an entire day resembling a dessert, so I pushed ‘Randomise’ again. This time the Wall produced a light blue summer dress with a white lace hem appeared, accompanied by a pair of white sandals, I shrugged, Mother would approve and it wasn’t too offensive. I pressed ‘Accept’.

  A whirring noise started up as the WallDrobe prepared my outfit. Finally the draw under the WallScreen sprung open and the clothes appeared, perfectly ironed and laid out for me. I quickly threw them on, aware of my growling stomach and dreaming of cheese scones with raspberry jam. I dashed over to the mirror and scowled at my unruly blonde waves, before grabbing a handful of hair and twisting it up into a messy bun. It would do.

  “What do you think, ladies?” I asked the crouched maids.

  “Beautiful, Madam.”

  “Amazing.”

  “The best,” came their chorus of compliments. I grinned.

  “You’d say that even if I looked like a pig’s backside.”

  They didn’t laugh at my joke.

  “No, Madam. You look nothing
like the backside of a pig,” one of the maids assured me. The others shook their heads and smiled politely in agreement.

  I sighed. Checked my appearance one last time, and decided it could have been worse. So I hurried back past the maids, who remained frozen in curtsied positions, and scrambled down the stairs towards the scone aroma.

  Upon reaching the kitchen, Mother stood waiting. Naturally, her hair was the same shade of dark blonde as my own, but I hadn’t seen it that way in years. She was obsessed with staying young, and took YouthSerum to help her stay that way. Today her locks were nearly white with a sparkly golden shimmer. She looked like a Christmas tree decoration.

  “Why, Avery Rose, you look beautiful.”

  I grabbed a scone off the top of a pile of freshly baked goods on the bench top and took an enormous bite, before grinning at Mother and hoisting myself up to sit on the bench.

  “Thanks Mum,” I said, only my mouth was so full that it sounded more like “Fangs Munph.”

  “Avery Rose, what have I said about speaking with our mouths full?”

  I scowled. “Um, to not?”

  She nodded curtly and perched on a stool at the kitchen bench. “And what have I said about sitting on the bench?”

  I growled under my breath and slid off the bench, slumping onto a barstool, Mother staring at me expectantly all the while.

  “What?” I asked her, using all my self control to maintain a polite and cordial tone, “What am I doing wrong now, Mother, dear?”

  “Nothing darling, I was just wondering whether you remember what day it is today?”

  I thought for a second. “My WallScreen said January ninth. Is there something on toda….” my voice trailed off as it dawned on me. Mother nodded approvingly.

  “It is Cure Day!” Mother’s face lit up with a repulsively genuine expression of delight. Her BeautySerum addiction meant that the skin on her face was constantly taut, so although she was attempting a smile, only her lips straightened into a perfectly horizontal line, whilst the rest of her face remained stationary. I turned away. The eerie smile-like-thing got creepy if you looked at it too long.

  Our family always hosted the biggest party of the year on the night of the Curing ceremony. I scanned the kitchen and noticed that the Norm maids were bustling around, in even more of a hurry than usual. There were large platters of hors-d’oevres covering every inch of the bench top, and in the dining room our usual enormous refectory table had been replaced with a dozen smaller ones. My mother already had her party-hosting makeup on. Her eyes were glittering with an abundance of purple and pink shimmer, and her cheeks each had a circle of scarlet blush. It was quite terrifying. I repressed a shudder as she finally let the weird expression fall from her face.

  “Go into the Cinema Room and get a Norm to switch the WallScreen on, Pumpkin Pie, I will be there in just a moment.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. There was something about The Cure that didn’t sit right with me. Although I had grown up with it, and it was all I knew, it still seemed wrong. When I voiced my concerns to mother, she had shushed me, explaining that The Cure was a natural way of life. She had said that it was important to help people realize their true potential and their natural strengths, and to help everyone be the best they could be.

  It sounded all good and well in theory, but what my Mother had failed to mention was that people had no choice as to whether they were Cured or not, it was compulsory, mandatory. And once one was Cured, they weren’t granted any choice as to the area of expertise they entered. The Cure decided for them by measuring which part of the recipient’s brain was the most active and advanced, and then exaggerating it further. But whilst the Cure expanded one segment of the brain to near superhuman ability, the remaining segments were dulled to near incompetency, leaving the Cured Norm basically brain-dead in all but one area of expertise. The area that was enhanced then determined the Field in which the Norm would be employed for the rest of his life.

  I always wondered if there were people who were forced to work in a Field they hated, day in, day out. The thought made me sick. Still, it wasn’t like I had to worry, I wasn’t even involved in the Curing process because of my parents. Descendants were exempt from The Cure, so I was destined to live a life with my own brain, as a human, a state of being that was a rarity these days.

  Even Primes, like my parents, didn’t truly have their own brains. Primes were those who took the Cure but then didn’t react to it in the way that the majority did. Usually, the pill dulled all areas of the brain except for the one in which the person was naturally most gifted. However, there were some people, those whose brains were naturally so evenly distributed in talent that the Cure could not locate the most prominent area, who reacted differently to the pill. Instead, all parts of the recipient’s brain were enhanced, leaving them essentially superhuman in every field. After being Cured, Primes lived a life of luxury on Olympia, with their only job being to ensure that the Fields remained obedient and peaceful. My father was the chief of the Security department. He managed the surveillance teams as well as the police and the armed forces. Mother was a Prime too, but she was more interested in hosting than contributing to society. They met during their Prime training, where they worked together to finish all their tasks in record-breaking time. They still held the record, which was the reason for our celebrity status.

  “Good morning Avery.” The Wall in the Cinema Room startled me as its loading screen filled the wall. A menu flashed onto the screen and I scrolled through: School, WallDrobe, In-room Shopping, Internet, Dining, Phoning, Movies, Gaming, NormWatch… Finally I reached Television. I stopped scrolling and the screen displayed a televised image.

  An endless crowd of people gathered, singing in a loud monotone. They all had their arms above their heads with their hands forming a triangle shape, thumb tip to thumb tip, index fingertip to index fingertip, palms facing outwards. This was the symbol, the symbol of the mountain, the symbol of the Primes, the symbol of respect for my superior life. I shuddered at the eerie image and sat down on one of the uncomfortably firm red sofas that filled the family Cinema. Mother clip clopped into the room and perched on the side table next to me,

  “Just in time Avery Rose, the ceremony is about to begin.” She spoke as though I had a choice in attending. I glowered and Mother reached over out of habit to smooth my brow, “No scowling dear, we want to stay smooth, remember?”

  Once she finished smoothing my scowl, she subconsciously let her fingertips wander over her own silicon-smooth forehead, and then pressed the service button on the sofa’s armrest.

  “I need two Youthness teas, no milk, no sugar. Make it quick.” She said into the intercom speaker. I groaned. I hated the anti-aging, soap-flavoured beverage that Mother insisted I drink daily.

  A Norm maid bustled into the Cinema a few minutes later with a delicate china teapot and two matching teacups on a silver tray. She dropped into a deep curtsy before presenting my mother with her cup. The beverage was bright orange, almost fluorescent, and smelled strongly of cleaning products. Mother drank at least ten cups a day, to keep wrinkles from blemishing her glassy-smooth face.

  “I am eighteen Mother. I don’t need this.” I winced in disgust as the scent of disinfectant overcame my senses.

  “Never too early to start de-aging, sweetheart.”

  I rolled my eyes at Mother, but grinned at Louisa, my favourite Norm, who had handed me a cup with a kindly wink. I set the cup down, with no intention of tasting its miserable contents, whilst Mother took a sip of hers.

  “Norm. What temperature is this tea?” Mother always referred to the help as ‘Norm’. Louisa frowned, her face was not stretched tight with BeautySerum, and so frowning was still a possibility. Her eyes wrinkled in the corners as she braced herself, anticipating a threat from my mother. She knew she was in trouble.

  “I let the boiled water sit for two minutes as you prefer, Madam Optime” Louisa tried, in a small voice. Her head was bowed, and she looked at M
other’s feet as she spoke. Mother let out a cruel giggle and sneered.

  “That is a lie Norm. If you had done such a thing, my lips would not have been scalded. They are blistering as we speak.”

  I looked at Mother’s mouth and saw nothing wrong with it. Then, to make a point, I swallowed my entire cup of tea in one gulp before placing the cup back onto Louisa’s serving tray.

  “That was delicious Louisa, thank you so very much!” I mimicked Mother’s sugary tone. “And, it was the perfect temperature.”

  Louisa’s lips twitched into an almost-smile, and her dull brown eyes nervously met mine for a moment, before she lowered her head again.

  “I will go and make you another cup right away Madame Optime.” She murmured and began to shuffle out of the room.

  “Don’t bother!” Mother called after her. “I cannot bear one more sip of your poorly brewed tea.” I glared at her for being so insufferably rude, but Mother turned back to the screen and plastered her scary smile-thing on her face.

  “Watch this, my pretty petunia.” She cooed. “It is about to get exciting.”

  Chapter 2

  The volume was cranked up as high as our Cinema would allow, and with the screen filling the entire wall, it was difficult to avoid watching the ceremony proceedings. The camera showed a tall, slender woman standing on a large stage in front of a vast crowd. Her hair was pale silver and slicked back off her face in a tight bun. Her features were sharp and she had no wrinkles to be seen. If BeautySerum weren’t the oldest trick in the book nobody would guess that she was almost a hundred. Regina Quaint, Spokesperson of Olympia, cleared her throat into the microphone with a slight ‘ahem’. The crowd before her was already dead silent.

  A blackbird flew low over the crowd, squawking loudly, but everyone stood stock-still. Only one boy looked up, his action very obvious amongst the otherwise frozen statues that were his peers. The boy followed the bird with his gaze as it swooped and dipped around the crowd, until it finally soared away into the distance.