The Legacy

something that had crept up on her. A few years ago, thinking about things usually entailed trying to decide which outfit to wear to an event, or which neighbours to invite to a party. These days it meant allowing dark, disturbing thoughts to wash over her; it meant questions that made her uncomfortable, conclusions that left her despondent and numb. Ever since the Surplus girl . . . Anna . . . Ever since she’d discovered her hiding in her garden room, such fear in her eyes, the boy with all his bruises . . .
    No. Stop, Julia told herself firmly. What she needed was something cheerful to focus on, to keep her vaguely entertained without worrying her unduly. After all, her husband, a senior Authorities manager, had assured her that everything was under control, that she shouldn’t listen to gossip. And what were the newsfeeds if not serious gossip?
    No, a chat show was a far better idea. The presenters felt like friends; they were more familiar than anyone else she knew. She enjoyed their company.
    She found the channel and sat back, smiling.
    ‘It just shows, doesn’t it, what a difference a bit of extra care can make.’
    ‘It certainly does. In fact, it’s inspired me to get myself fit again.’
    ‘Again? You were fit once?’
    The audience laughed – or perhaps it was canned, Julia wasn’t sure. The presenters were like an old married couple – a couple who still held affection for one another. Like Julia and Anthony, only . . . better. They flirted, they bickered, they laughed. They made it look so easy. Perhaps she should try harder, Julia thought to herself. Perhaps she should be more coquettish.
    ‘But now to a more serious subject.’
    ‘Serious? You can do serious?’
    ‘Of course I can do serious.’ The man affected a hangdog expression and there was more laughter.
    The woman shook her head, rolling her eyes and smiling. ‘Come on, Michael. Now you may have heard rumours about people going missing – or perhaps you’ve read about the Missing in a newspaper. There are lots of theories doing the rounds regarding who these people are and why they’ve been taken away, aren’t there, Michael?’
    Michael nodded gravely but there was still a twinkle in his eye. ‘There certainly are, Sophie. You know, I heard one rumour that people are being taken to trial a new civilisation on the moon!’
    Julia squirmed slightly in her chair; she’d heard that particular rumour and had even asked her husband about it.
    ‘Now that I would like to see.’ Sophie smiled. ‘But more seriously, we all want to know what’s going on. Just yesterday, lawyers acting for the families of an alleged Missing person said that the failure of the Authorities to inform them of what was happening and the denial of any access visits was a breach of human rights, which have fallen down the agenda in recent years.’
    ‘That’s right,’ Michael said, shaking his head – Julia wasn’t sure whether it was in incredulity or sympathy. ‘So we thought we’d get Hillary Wright, the Secretary General of the Authorities, on the show, to tell us what’s really going on. Didn’t we, Sophie?’
    ‘That’s right, Michael. So, shall we get her on?’
    Julia’s eyes widened. Hillary Wright? On a chat show? She rarely appeared on television and when she did it was a carefully orchestrated Authorities press conference. Perhaps it was the only way to quell the rumours once and for all. Yes, that must be it.
    ‘I think we’d better, don’t you?’
    Sophie smiled and the camera panned over to a door, through which Hillary Wright walked. Julia recognised her – hers was a familiar face anyway, but Julia had met her in the flesh once at one of the Authorities’ Christmas parties. She had seemed a little cold, Julia thought, her handshake a little limp, but then she supposed a little coldness was probably required for such a high-octane job. Hillary was looking tired, a little ragged around the edges. It just showed, Julia tutted to herself – being busy might seem appealing, but it was probably utterly exhausting. Really, she was very lucky not to have many demands on her time. She could have a nap whenever she wanted.
    ‘So, Hillary!’ Sophie looked at the Secretary General, her face full of concern. ‘Can you tell us what’s happening? Are the Missing just the result of rumours, or is there something going on?’
    Hillary smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid to say that what’s going on here is that there are