A little over one hundred and fifty years ago, a projectile had struck the Ascensor, severing the orbital tether just above its anchorpoint. The explosion had shattered its carbyne chains and sent tens of thousands of kilometers of cable whiplashing upwards. The remainder of the tether had fallen with deceptive grace, levelling the surrounding landscape as it impacted. For the first time in centuries, the inhabitants of Earth were trapped in their cradle. The fragments of tether, almost invincibly strong and difficult to remove, had simply been concreted around to form the launch pans that serviced the region. Workers had splashed crude alien sigils on the ground. Vash doubted those above had the slightest intention of lifting their prohibition on anything of human origin leaving the stratosphere. He was to be an exception, nothing more.

A sound like muted thunder drowned out the distant crashing of surf and cawing of gulls and the thick clouds were lit from within. The diffuse glow narrowed into a tripod of exhaust beams as the lander descended. Corbin pulled something out of his pocket and frowned.

‘A hundred microsieverts just from that glare,’ he mused, tapping the gadget with one finger. ‘We should lodge a complaint about dangerous working conditions.’

Vash returned Corbin’s faint smile, raising a palm to shield his own eyes. The exhaust glare was almost bright enough to burn his skin.

‘I’m not sure what I expected them to send, but it wasn’t this,’ Corbin said after a long pause. ‘The dosimeter reading means it’s nuclear. That lander has to be a closed cycle rocket, because otherwise we’d already be keeling over and vomiting up our guts. But it’s not well designed, or we wouldn’t still get this trickle of radiation leakage.’

Vash raised an eyebrow.

‘I take an interest in these things,’ Corbin shrugged.

‘Your point?’

‘I’m not sure I have a point,’ Corbin said, looking thoughtfully at the dosimeter, then back at Vash. The glare illuminated both their faces.

‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen one of the Dyn machines up close. The rest of the time it’s just lights in the sky and cryptic messages. I expected something beyond my understanding, not this flying brick.’

‘This has been on your mind for a while,’ Vash offered.

‘I’ve had my doubts. Why would the Dyn rely on Arco to run things for them? Why occupy the depopulated husks of our orbital habitats? Why their reliance on us, even now, for technical expertise? Seeing this confirms it; I don’t know how it’s possible, but the Dyn are lower tech than us – they have been all along.’

‘Go on,’ Vash said. He felt a lurch in his stomach, hearing someone else give voice to his suspicions confirmed them.

‘I’ve heard rumours, old stories about the world before, the world we built. If even a quarter of those stories are true then whoever built that -’ he flung his arm out towards the Dynic craft, wobbling slightly as it settled on its landing gear. ‘Couldn’t have won, not unless everything I’ve heard is a lie. Is it?’

‘It’s not a lie,’ Vash said; he found he couldn’t quite look his subordinate in the eye. ‘I can’t describe the old world; there are no words… They thought they could do anything – that misfortune was behind them.’

‘Try me,’ Corbin said brusquely. ‘We both know you might not come back from orbit. It’s your duty to ensure someone remembers.’

‘Nice and direct,’ Vash smiled weakly. ‘I don’t have any intention of dying today.’

‘Few people ever do sir, but I have to know. What kind of world was it, before the Dyn?’

Vash’s smile turned into a grimace and his eyes shifted away from the world as it was now and focused on somewhere else, separated not just by the passage of time but by a barrier of doubt and disbelief.

‘Just imagine if in a moment everything necessary vanished without warning,’ Vash said, in reverent cadence. ‘Not just the glue of society but the fundamental principles upon which the world operates; a great absence. Then in the midst of all that, the panic of invasion. More people dying in a matter of hours than had in the preceding century. Imagine that, with no explanation or context; just death and collapse when before the world had been almost flawless.’

Corbin spoke slowly, but Vash noted his impatience. ‘I asked about the world before. What was it like?’

Vash hardly seemed to be listening.

‘If something comparable happened to us now; if Arco fell and all our machines stopped working, civilisation would collapse. Yet that’s not what happened.’

‘What did happen?’

‘Within weeks, an interim government had been created and the destruction was under control. There was no war of all against all, no mass starvation. They carried on, despite the loss of everything. It’s only now, with successive generations worn down by time, that things are truly failing. Can you imagine what humanity must have been at the start, the kind of world that must have been, to be that sane? Imagine all that, and it’s still nothing compared to the world of the Utilitaria.’

Corbin’s eyebrows rose at that last word and Vash abruptly cut himself off. The Utilitaria; the entity that had vanished just when humanity needed it most, a final and terminal betrayal. Gulls circling above cawed emptily, serene and oblivious.

‘Then how could we have lost?’ Corbin said. There was a charge in the air, a sense that he was treading close to something dangerous and forbidden, but Vash also heard the pleading.

‘I don’t know.’

Even now it was difficult to admit. Vash saw Corbin’s hurt expression and knew the man thought he was withholding something. After so many years, Vash didn’t know if he could believe his own memories. But the truth remained; he didn’t understand what had happened. Both men lapsed into silence.

‘Well, your chariot awaits,’ Corbin said dryly, as if the entire conversation hadn’t happened. Vash forced a grimace, his eyes still fixed on the lander. ‘Is everything ok? The flight will be over in minutes – ’

‘They’ve never requested a meeting in person before,’ Vash said, speaking over Corbin. ‘The phone has sufficed thus far. What’s changed?’

‘You said the voice was different – new leadership maybe?’

Vash shrugged.

‘Even if we knew enough to speculate it’s besides the point, I have no choice but to go.’ Corbin nodded and Vash turned to leave. Then he hesitated, seized by a sudden, inexplicable discomfort.

‘The Meyer situation… ’ Vash began.

‘All under control,’ Corbin said breezily, waving the query away. He met Vash’s gaze with a smile.

‘Good…’ The moment passed. ‘Good,’ Vash said, more assuredly.

At five thirty Corbin woke up, just as he did every day. Rather than tending to the paperwork that piled his lectern as he usually would, he dressed and left his apartment, making his way down through the dim, deserted corridors and stairwells of the block as quietly as possible. He had no interest in moving into the former Director’s mansion – resources were stretched thin enough even without such extravagance. On the way out, he stopped to pick up two carefully resealed flasks of coffee.

The curfew was still in place, but Corbin had authorisation to break it if he had good reason to do so. He knew there was a good reason, but was less certain others would see it that way. It had been a long day following the lander’s departure, but Corbin had never hesitated. He knew what he had to do and what was necessary was never wrong, as Vash had once told him.

The Conurbation looked different at night; the streets, utterly deserted but for the odd Enforcer patrol, glistened under the artificial lights. Sounds echoed, every footfall took on a significance of its own. Corbin found it strangely calming, for it was almost possible to believe there was nothing wrong with the world. Then he’d notice the bleakness of the building facades, or a burnt out patrol vehicle and the impression would snap.

Corbin made his way over to the lift and upon arrival it chimed loudly in the empty hall. He selected the twenty-second basement level and stood, consciously relaxing each muscle until he felt a wave of calm. The lift juddered to a halt and chimed once more, the doors opening into a dingy low-ceilinged space, with corridors branching off. Each corridor in turn led on to further passages; all were lined with countless identical doors leading onto identical cell-like rooms. The place was a labyrinth, but that suited his purposes fine. He knew where to go. Presently he came to door B22-32114.

‘I need to speak to the prisoner,’ Corbin said, greeting the two Enforcers stationed outside. They scowled, looking almost ready to deny him entry, which sent a jolt of apprehension down his spine. Now there was no turning back; the first step was already taken. With a deep breath he turned the key in the lock as they stood aside. Light from the open door spilled across an overweight figure slumped on the bed. The door thudded shut behind them, muffling all sound. Meyer raised his head to stare at Corbin.

‘Good morning,’ he said. Meyer grunted.

Convincing the Director to implicate himself had been an easy task. Men like the former Director had any number of pressure points. But the compulsion hadn’t lasted. Meyer had allies, those that benefited from the corrupt system he’d built around himself. He’d begun to give his version of events. In somewhere as densely packed as Conurbation One, rumour spread quickly. There were already whisperings of dissent, and they would grow with time.

‘You promised me a comfortable retirement,’ Meyer said. ‘This is a prison cell. It’s solitary confinement, I might as well be dead.’

‘It’s temporary. Death isn’t,’ Corbin replied sharply.

‘It better be temporary,’ Meyer smiled. He sat up, swung his legs over the hard bed and paced over to Corbin. He was a few inches taller.

‘You see, I haven’t been nice and quiet like you hoped. Even here, there are people who’ll listen to me. The Directors don’t like Vash meddling in their affairs; they’ll support me. Your friend has upset too many powerful people. So I’m changing my offer. You give me double what you promised, you destroy what you’ve got on me and you get my silence…’

‘There was no offer, Meyer,’ said Corbin stiffly. ‘I told you what the deal was, and what I’d do to you if you didn’t accept it.’ He drew in a breath to shout for the guards, but Meyer cut him off.

‘Don’t bother. They might be too scared of you to let me out, but they sure as hell aren’t your men. I was good to them; they aren’t going to stroll in here and shoot me in cold blood. Another day or two and they’ll be telling the whole Conurbation who really killed all those innocent little protesters.’

‘You’d really risk everything just to further line your own pockets?’

‘Oh, shut it! Do you really think Arco is worth fighting for? You talk about the greater good but my staged downfall worked out just fine for you, didn’t it? The same goes for Vash, you’re either a pair of spectacular hypocrites or you genuinely believe your own lies. It doesn’t matter how messed up the world gets – you still believe it can be fixed, that every evil thing you do is excused because you’re making things better. Well let me tell you – it can’t be fixed!’

‘You truly believe that?’

‘None of this matters; the world spins down and everything dies. Someday the Dyn will decide to end this and finish us off. That’s the future, whether you accept it or not. Until then, I want a nice warm fireside and comfy apartments. You’re Director now. Best you understand your job is just to keep everyone cowed and live it up for as long as you can. The sooner you learn that lesson the better for all of us, even if it only means I never have to listen to your sanctimonious preaching again.’

‘And that’s your final answer?’ Corbin said. Meyer nodded with satisfaction.

‘Run along, little man. I won’t wait for -’

Corbin’s fist caught Meyer in the neck just above his adam’s apple. He folded up, gasping in pain and shock. His savage kick into Meyer’s groin doubled the man over. He grabbed Meyer by the lapels of his coverall and tripped him with one outstretched foot, slamming his head onto the corner of the bedside table. Corbin’s hands moved quickly to cover the stunned Meyer’s mouth and nose. He thrashed violently, his resistance weakening. His face blanched as he failed to draw breath, then the ex-director of Conurbation One went limp.

Corbin’s own breath escaped in a shiver. He let go of Meyer’s head and pressed a finger to the dead man’s neck, confirming the lack of pulse. It didn’t take long for Corbin’s heart rate to return to normal. He stood, straightened his clothes, and heaved Meyer’s body out of sight of the heavy cell door. At a hand signal through the tiny window, the guard swung the door open, looking wary. Corbin pulled the two flasks of integrity coffee out of his jacket and proffered them.

‘Everything ok in there?’

‘Yes,’ Corbin said, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘I’ve spoken with Meyer. We’ll be moving him out of the cells in a few days. It’s hardly fair to keep an innocent man locked up, am I right?’

The guards brightened, nodding conspiratorially and accepting the proffered drinks. Corbin smiled back and turned away, walking quickly towards the lift. Meyer would have been sentenced to death long ago, had he not used his position to avoid the consequences of his crimes. Corbin wondered whether he would miss this, in his new position as Director; few opportunities for fieldwork there. Ultimately he decided he wouldn’t.

A moment before the lift doors slid shut Corbin thought he made out two low thuds, as of bodies striking the ground. He hoped his conscience could deal with the two poisoned guards.