The Resistance

would see that the rot had still set in. Like an apple that looks fresh but reveals maggots inside, people could not ignore for ever the fact that they were all past their sell-by date.
    He turned on to his street, the ugly and monotonous row of identical houses. And yet, as he approached Number 16, he still felt the familiar feeling of a weight being lifted, a sense of a gap in the clouds that seemed to dog his every move. It was home. Not the bricks and mortar – the house was, in Peter’s opinion, a monstrosity, a soulless building with small, oppressive rooms and low ceilings; but what lived within it meant everything to him. As he approached the house, he could see Anna through the window, sitting on the sofa reading, knees bent under her.
    Before his key had entered the lock, he heard her jump up and come running to the door. She pulled it open and smiled up at him.
    ‘You’re home!’ The smile was short-lived; immediately it was replaced by a frown. ‘And you’re late. You said you’d be home an hour ago.’
    ‘Yeah, sorry about that . . .’ His eyes were shining, but he kept his voice low out of habit; the Underground had swept the house for bugs but Pip had admitted that they couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure the house was secure. ‘Is Ben asleep?’
    He kissed Anna gently on her nose, which she wrinkled.
    ‘Dead to the world,’ she confirmed. ‘So?’
    Peter walked into the sitting room, flopping down on the same sofa Anna had been on just a few moments before. He could feel her warmth on the cushions. Before he’d met Anna, he’d thought he’d known what love was, thought he’d understood about friendship, romance, all of it, but he hadn’t – not at all. Until he’d held Anna in his arms, until he’d let her see his soul, until he’d heard her cry gently when he made love to her for the first time, he’d known nothing. And now, sometimes, when it was just the two of them, when he smelt her hair, caught her eye, he felt as though he knew all there was to know about everything, as though they knew the secret of life. A secret far more powerful than Longevity, far more long-lasting.
    ‘So what?’ he teased.
    Anna pretended to punch him. ‘How did it go?’ she mouthed silently, taking his hand, her eyes alert.
    ‘It was fine,’ he whispered. Then, winking, he pulled himself off the sofa, wandered into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. An electronic voice immediately piped up: ‘How much hot water do you really need? Remember, less water, less waste.’
    ‘Fine?’ Anna whispered, following him. ‘What does that mean? You are so annoying sometimes.’
    ‘Me or the kettle?’
    ‘You’re both as bad as each other,’ Anna replied out loud, raising her eyebrows.
    Peter grabbed her, pulled her in towards him and kissed her. ‘It was fine,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘She bought the story, hook, line and sinker. And then I saw Pip and everything’s set.’
    Anna smiled, her expression at once excited and apprehensive. Then she pulled away, took out two mugs and put tea bags in them. ‘So you must be looking forward to starting at Pincent Pharma on Monday,’ she said out loud. She was still smiling, but Peter could see a hint of tension in her eyes, of worry.
    ‘Certainly am,’ he confirmed. Then he grabbed her again, this time more playfully. ‘And by Tuesday, I’ll have been fired and I’ll have to get a job as an aerobics instructor,’ he whispered.
    ‘No, you won’t! You can’t. You’ve got to destroy it, Peter, you’ve got to,’ Anna whispered back, pulling away and looking at him wide-eyed, evidently not entirely sure whether he was joking or not. Which was perfectly understandable; Peter wasn’t sure either.

Chapter Two
    Pincent Pharma occupied a prime position in southwest London, on the river. The building had existed for years in various guises – as a power plant, as an art gallery – before Pincent Pharma Inc convinced the town planners and the Authorities that Longevity drugs required a London production centre. Within months, building work had begun and soon the large, dark landmark had been transformed into a huge white church of Longevity. Inside its walls, hundreds of the best minds were devoted to researching, creating, producing, improving and preaching the benefits of the small white pills that had enabled humans to achieve the ultimate goal – never-ending life.
    Peter knew nothing about architecture, but he could feel the