Genesis Code, (Book 1, Genesis Series)

Chapter 7

Laura O'Halloran dashed across the road to the nearest replication terminal for lunch, one of many located close to the Earth Security Centre, in Sydney. She stepped into the entrance area, along with fifty others. The doors closed behind them and she waited for the harmful air inside the space to decontaminate before the second doors opened. Safely inside the environmentally-controlled terminal, she removed her gel mask from her face and put it in her pocket. She tugged at the Velcro strips that covered the zipped part of her grey ESC uniform. Her fine blonde hair fused with the strip and she worked it loose. The tight feeling around her neck lessened the moment she released the top section.

Laura released a long breath and drew in a new one that tasted of lavender and stale body odour. She spluttered out the recirculated air and joined the queue of people waiting to use one of the replication machines. A hunched-over woman stood in front of her. Crooked postures were usually a side effect from overuse of the genetic manipulation clinics. Laura placed her age somewhere in the early hundreds. A large sweaty man pressed up against her back and she squirmed to get a little room. But the more she moved the more the air toxins crawled over her thin, pale body. People watched her, as they normally did when she wore her ESC uniform.

The queue inside the confined corridor moved forward at a fast pace. Efficiency and speed rated high in a world with twenty billion people. The old woman selected a beef stew and a glass of water. Laura ordered a chicken sandwich and a Coke, a choice which caught the woman's attention.

'Don't order that, dear. There's something wrong with the chicken replica. Looks and tastes like solidified porridge. Quite disgusting.' Her nose wrinkled.

'What's good?' said Laura to be polite. She was too hungry to care.

'Anything except the chicken. Larry, who runs this place, says they're trying to get replacements for some of the particle cards but the companies won't replace them. The graphic cards need fixing too, he says. They're years old now and don't work properly. Have you seen how unappetising some choices look? Should take those foods off the menu, if you ask me.'

'Thanks.' Laura changed her order to lamb slices with potato cakes and mint jelly. The woman nodded as Laura collected her food from the base of the machine.

The line progressed towards the pay station.

She had felt eyes on her the moment she walked into the replication terminal, but now one set burned a hole in the back of her skull. She turned around and saw a man in his early forties, with slicked-back hair and a beanpole-shaped body, looking straight at her. His loose jeans were secured with an old belt. She'd seen many like him before; the city was filled with a range of junkies from druggies to tech overloaders. Both types had one thing in common: wild, unsettled eyes.

'Can I help you?'

'You lot over there think you're so fucking great.'

'Is there something you want?' She braced herself for another verbal attack, usually brought on by the uniform she wore.

'My mother is in debt because of you. Owes your crowd a ton of money. She can't sleep 'cause she's expecting your lot to break down her door and arrest her.' The man shook his finger at her. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'You need to take it up with the World Government. I work at the ESC.'

Laura worked on Level Four of the ESC—Document Control and Storage—where she spent too many boring hours filing away information about tax matters. In other sections, workers checked, processed and filed traffic violations and countless transactions that the inhabitants of Earth had charged to their accounts. ESC had nothing to do with setting taxes or chasing down tax-evaders. That was the World Government's job.