The Resistance

one. And Anna will find a new one, I’m sure of it.’
    ‘Anna doesn’t know yet.’
    ‘Ah. Now I understand the machine’s reading.’
    ‘I want her to understand.’
    ‘To understand?’
    Peter bit his lip. ‘That it isn’t my fault. That I didn’t want this . . .’
    ‘You feel guilty?’
    ‘No. Maybe. I don’t know how to tell her. I don’t know where to start.’
    ‘I think you won’t know until you’ve tried. Why don’t you go now?’
    ‘Really?’ Peter looked up hopefully.
    ‘Really. You’re a good student, Peter, but you’re not invaluable. Not yet, anyway.’
    To his surprise, Peter found himself grinning. He felt so much better. Unburdened. Light. And warm, in a fuzzy kind of way. ‘Thanks, Dr Edwards. Thanks very much. I’ll . . . I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Standing up, Peter made his way out of the canteen, swaying slightly as he walked. As he brushed by tables, knocking into one or two, he realised that he no longer viewed the other people eating lunch as enemies. One or two of them even smiled at him as he walked past. If he signed the Declaration and took Longevity, he found himself thinking, would he still be here in a hundred years, or would he be somewhere else completely? The questions floated around his head, but they didn’t vex him. He felt calm, confident and self-assured for the first time in a very long time. He felt sure that he could win Anna over. After all, he thought to himself as he left Pincent Pharma and waved briefly at the smiling security guard, he had all the time in the world to do it.
    Peter was humming as he approached the house. His despair from the night before felt alien and strange now, like a bad dream. He felt sure that Anna would see things as he did, that she, too, would embrace the chance to live for ever, once she’d got over her initial disappointment. Even their house didn’t look quite so bad that morning – sure, it was still a complete hole, but it was their hole. It was their home, for now, until they were ready to move on. And they would be moving on soon, he was sure of it. He was going to achieve something with his life; he was going to make some money and within a few years he’d be able to move them out of the suburbs, whatever the Authorities had to say about it. He’d buy a bigger house where Ben had room to play and he’d fill it with books for Anna. Perhaps they’d travel, too – Anna had always said that she wanted to see the desert and now that they had for ever stretching out ahead of them, they could go there for as long as she pleased. They’d take a boat or a train; it would be an adventure. One of many adventures. They’d never get bored because they’d never stop discovering new things, never stop exploring and learning. Longevity wasn’t bad in itself; it was just that most people were ignorant and dull and they didn’t know how to use their time. They sat around worrying about their wrinkles instead of seeing their long lives as a huge opportunity. He and Anna would be different. He and Anna would make every minute count. He and Anna would make something of themselves.
    Pulling out his keys, Peter opened the door and sauntered into the kitchen. Anna, who was on the floor playing with Ben, looked up in shock.
    ‘Have you been fired?’ she asked, her eyes wide. ‘What happened? How dare they?’
    Peter grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I haven’t been fired; I was just given a few hours off for good behaviour.’
    ‘Good behaviour?’ Anna looked perplexed.
    ‘Hello, little one!’ Peter scooped Ben into his arms and held him above his head, smiling as Ben squealed in delight. Then, handing Ben back to Anna, he pulled a box out of his bag. ‘Chocolates,’ he said. ‘Thought you might like them.’
    ‘Thank you!’ Anna took his gift, her eyes still following him uncertainly. ‘And you’re sure everything’s all right?’
    ‘Of course.’ Peter pulled out a chair from the table and sat on it. Then he looked at Anna, seriously. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was an idiot.’
    Anna’s face flushed. ‘No, you weren’t. You were just tired. It must be awful working at Pincent Pharma, Peter. But you can’t let it get to you. We don’t have to sign the Declaration. There are still people fighting. There are still people who care about Surpluses and nature. Really there are.’
    ‘It’s not that,’ Peter said, smiling awkwardly. ‘I mean, I know there are people fighting. And that’s