The Resistance

Anna’s time than Peter had anticipated, made her exhausted all the time, took all her attention. But that wasn’t a reason not to have them. Children were the future. They had to be.
    ‘What I’m trying to explain to you, Peter,’ Dr Edwards continued gently, ‘is that nature and Longevity are not mutually exclusive. Humans are able to adapt very well to new situations.’
    Peter thought for a moment. He’d never thought of Longevity as beautiful, as a miracle. And he’d thought that Pincent Pharma would be full of people like the woman at lunch, not thoughtful and kind like Dr Edwards. Then he shook himself. He was here to do a job, and he was going to do it.
    ‘So this is how it works,’ he said, squinting at the cells. ‘But how? What’s in the liquid you put on the cell? And what happens to the liquid? I mean, Longevity drugs are tablets, aren’t they? How do you convert the liquid into tablets?’
    ‘More questions. You know that curiosity killed the cat?’ Peter started slightly and swung round to find his grandfather standing a few feet behind him.
    ‘Curiosity also makes a great student,’ Dr Edwards said.
    Richard Pincent shrugged. ‘There’s plenty of time for studying, though,’ he said easily. ‘One thing we all have is plenty of time, isn’t that right, Peter?’
    Peter nodded awkwardly.
    ‘If you sign the Declaration, I mean,’ his grandfather continued, his eyes boring into Peter’s. ‘You are signing, aren’t you?’
    Peter cleared his throat. Pip’s notes had briefed him on this question; they’d told him to say he was signing. But now, standing in front of his grandfather, he found couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it.
    ‘I wasn’t planning to, no,’ he said.
    ‘I see.’ His grandfather nodded, his eyes darkening. ‘In that case, perhaps you’d like to come with me?’

Chapter Seven
    Peter followed his grandfather down the corridor in silence, trying to ignore his heart thudding loudly in his chest. They took the lift up to the third floor, which was empty but for patrolling guards, luxurious but for the heavy locks on heavy-looking doors.
    ‘And this is my office,’ his grandfather said, eventually, keying in a code which opened a large door. ‘Changes every day, this code,’ his grandfather said, noticing Peter’s staring eyes. ‘Best security system in the whole world.’
    Peter nodded silently, and only just stopped himself from gasping as he looked around. The room was opulent in a way that Peter had never seen before: polished floorboards covered with heavy rugs, ceilings high enough for three men to stand on each other’s shoulders, lights everywhere – embedded in the ceiling, standard lamps, side lights, lights in cupboards, lights on the floor. It was warm, too – a fire crackled under a huge mantelpiece and he immediately imagined Anna curled up comfortably in front of it, reading. She’d love it, he thought to himself bitterly. But the thing that drew Peter’s eyes, the thing that made this room bigger, better, more incredible than any other room he’d been in, was the view – of the river, of London. The window behind his grandfather’s desk was enormous and – incredibly – it could be opened, something his grandfather appeared to take great delight in demonstrating.
    ‘We do things differently here, Peter,’ he said, his eyes glinting. ‘The rules that apply to others don’t apply to us.’
    Peter cleared his throat, trying his best to appear relaxed and confident, but underneath the facade, he was filled with a sense of dread – dread that he was going to be expelled from Pincent Pharma before he’d been of any use to the Underground, dread that he’d allowed his heart to rule his head, stupidly, foolishly.
    ‘So, Peter,’ his grandfather said, sitting down at his large, mahogany desk and motioning for Peter to take the chair on the other side of it. ‘How are you getting on?’
    Peter looked at him cautiously and forced a smile. ‘Fine. I’m getting on fine.’
    Richard Pincent nodded. ‘Fine. I see.’ He sat back in his chair. Peter’s eyes had been darting about the room curiously, and he made himself look down instead. Anna had told him before that his eyes were dangerous – they unsettled people, they refused to compromise. ‘But you’ve decided not to sign the Declaration.’
    Peter bit his lip. ‘Actually,’ he said, his throat feeling suddenly dry, ‘I haven’t really decided. I’m . . . thinking