The Legacy

Richard Pincent or the Authorities got hold of them. The only people there permanently were Jude, Sheila, Pip, and one or two guards. Jude had seen more drama when he’d lived in a small close in South London.
    Suddenly it hit him. A family, that’s what the Underground was like – a slightly dysfunctional family. Pip had taken on the parental role, generally disapproving of and criticising everything while being convinced that everything he did was right and the best possible way to do things. Peter and Anna were the golden children. Sheila was the youngest, indulged child. And Jude? He was the let-down, the misfit, the ‘troublesome’ one. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure he was in the family at all.
    Shaking his head wearily, Jude turned on his computer. There was no point thinking about it really; he’d never be Peter, would never be held in the same esteem. And in the meantime another Pincent lorry was being ambushed that afternoon and he needed to track it. It soon appeared on his screen and he watched for an hour or so then, bored, looked over at Sheila who had appeared again on the other side of the room a few minutes earlier and was leaning against the wall, broom in hand, daydreaming. He knew she was waiting for him to call her over.
    ‘Fancy a game, Princess?’ Princess was his nickname for her – he told her it was because she behaved like one, because she was so difficult and demanding, but really it was because the first time he’d seen her, he thought she looked like a princess in a fairy tale, frozen, scared, waiting for someone to rescue her. He’d seen her when he’d hacked into the Pincent Pharma network, when he’d realised that Pincent Pharma was more than just a pharmaceutical company – it was a prison, a torture chamber. That was when he’d given up everything he’d taken for granted all his life and wormed his way into Pincent Pharma to rescue her, to save his princess from the dark forces at play in the bowels of that odious place. That was where he’d finally met Pip and Peter and together they had made the shocking discovery that Surpluses were being shipped in and used for their stem cells to make Longevity+, the wonder drug that would treat the external signs of ageing as well as the internal renewal process.
    That had been the end of Jude’s existence as a Legal citizen – from then on, he’d needed Underground protection. But the truth was, Legality wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, not when you were the only Legal person your age in what felt like the whole city or possibly the whole country.
    ‘No thank you,’ Sheila said haughtily, immediately starting to push her broom around the floor. ‘I’ve actually got a lot of things to do.’
    Jude grinned. ‘But we both know you’re not going to do them.’
    Sheila folded her arms defensively. ‘I am. I’m not a layabout like you.’ She turned and swept some dust out of the corner, then swept it back again. He watched in amusement, but didn’t say anything. Sheila had grown up in a Surplus Hall. She never tired of telling anyone who’d listen that she wasn’t a Surplus, that her parents had Opted Out of the Declaration, forgoing Longevity so they could have her, but even so she’d still ended up being taken by the Catchers and trained to be a Valuable Asset, a housekeeper or other servant. Except it seemed that wasn’t what Valuable Assets were after all. At Pincent Pharma, she’d discovered that Richard Pincent needed them for . . . other things.
    ‘Suit yourself.’
    ‘I will. And if I were you I’d read some of those books Pip gave you. You’re lucky to be here, Jude.’
    ‘So what – I should make myself more valuable?’ Again he regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. When they’d first been taken in by the Underground Sheila had made a big deal about the housekeeping skills she’d learned at Grange Hall, about how valuable she’d be to everyone. But the Underground tended to choose derelict and uninhabitable buildings for its premises, and it wasn’t that easy being a housekeeper in a place that was full of dust and where no one really seemed to care if the floors were clean or not. It soon turned out that Sheila wasn’t that great at cleaning anyway, nor at cooking, unless charred food was your idea of haute cuisine. Which meant that she spent most of her time trailing around the place, a slightly defensive look on her face. Jude could relate to that; he felt like he was