The Resistance

shut as they usually did. Guards were patrolling the corridors, their expressions grim, but without the identi-card system they didn’t know who was meant to be where; whilst Dr Edwards and Peter were stopped several times, they were, each time, allowed to pass freely.
    Eventually, they reached the viewing gallery on the fourth floor, the area behind a large glass wall through which Peter could see the small white pills shooting out of funnels. Dr Edwards walked past the window, through a door to his right. ‘There,’ he said, pointing down the corridor to another glass window. They walked towards it, then Peter gasped. Hundreds of vats sat next to each other, machines hovering over them; into some, powder was being poured, in others, mechanical arms were stirring, large metal lids clamping down over them and lasers beaming down. In front of them large sheets of white lay like undisturbed snow, waiting to be fed into pressing machines, ready for the finishing room. The operation was so much bigger than Peter had expected, so industrial. Those machines, those slabs of white, they were the stuff of eternal life. He shook his head in amazement.
    Dr Edwards looked equally entranced. ‘Just think, Peter,’ he breathed. ‘Just think what is contained within those sheets. The perfection of mankind.’
    Peter stared at them, wondering how many little spherical pills each would produce. Their pure whiteness made them appear so innocent; their promise of eternal life so irresistible.
    ‘And that’s it?’ he murmured quietly, transfixed as he watched the pills being born out of large machines. ‘You just mix and press? I thought there would be more to it, somehow.’
    ‘There is,’ Dr Edwards breathed. ‘So much more.’ Then his eyes went misty as they stared into the middle distance. ‘Sweet Longevity, make me immortal with a kiss,’ he whispered.
    Peter frowned. ‘What?’
    ‘Oh, nothing.’ Dr Edwards reddened slightly. ‘I was just remembering something . . . another time, another place. You know, it was Albert Fern who got me excited about science in the first place. He was a great scholar. A great lover of human endeavour.’
    ‘Albert Fern?’
    ‘The creator of Longevity. Yes. Your great-grandfather, Peter. He wanted to cure disease, to end suffering. He made me realise what was possible if you never gave up. If you opened your mind to possibility . . .’
    ‘But he died, didn’t he? Bit ironic, don’t you think?’
    Dr Edwards hesitated, then he nodded. ‘But the rest of us live, Peter. And he lives on in every tablet, in every human kept alive by them.’
    They stood silently, watching the tablets for a few minutes. Then Dr Edwards took off his lab coat. ‘Peter, while I’m here I think I might pop upstairs to see the research team. We rarely have the time to discuss our research together these days; I think now might be rather a good opportunity. Can you find your own way back, or do you want me to walk back some of the way?’
    Peter shook his head. ‘No, I’ll be fine. You go.’
    ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Dr Edwards said. ‘But I’m not sure I’d hang around here if I were you. It is a restricted area.’
    He walked down the corridor; Peter barely noticed him go. He was unable to take his eyes away from the Longevity pills, imagining what he could do with the years that stretched out in front of him. He could do anything, go anywhere. The choice was almost paralysing, the decisions endless.
    Jude’s heart was thudding in his chest and his face was covered in hot, grimy dust. He was back almost where he started – almost but not quite. Below him was the Security Centre, the hub of Pincent Pharma, the source of all information, all the power. He could hear someone swearing beneath him; could hear walkie-talkies going off every few minutes and frantic conversations. Carefully, silently, Jude opened up the box in front of him, the mainframe to the security camera system. His hands were moist with sweat and as he explored the innards of the system the various wires slipped out of his fingers several times, but eventually he found what he was looking for. Silently, he took out his knife and cut two of them, before fusing them together and connecting them to his own mini-com. Its small screen, just six centimetres by ten, flickered into life. Jude held his breath, listening for a sound that might indicate that he’d made a mistake, that the system below him was also was flashing into