Minds of Sand and Light

ContentsContent warning: This book contains scenes of graphic and medical violence, and themes of oppression of minorities that some readers may find distressing.Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28About the AuthorAlso by Kylie ChanCopyright 1The muddy smell of the Thames made the crumbling area even more unpleasant. The embankments on this less affluent part of the river weren’t high enough to deal with encroaching climate change, so the intensifying flooding that overwhelmed the Thames tidal barrier had made it unprofitable for businesses to remain. A warehouse on the bank had nearly worn down to nothing, the rusting ribs of its roof supports poking out of its graffiti-covered carcass. Long grass had pushed its way through the cracked concrete covering the ground, and was now dying in the summer heat. The churning of the electric engines on the river boats, not visible behind the embankment, echoed over the decay.A siren sounded further up the street and a group of ragged, feral children between the ages of six and twelve charged past Ruth, screaming and laughing. A pair of London Metropolitan surveillance drones – forty centimetres long in their blue-and-white livery – followed them. The children dived under cover in the warehouse and the drones stopped to hover, ran their cameras over the area, eyed Ruth for a while and then left.Ruth checked her tablet again – the drone she wanted was in a predictable looping route that came from the more expensive side of the river, passed over this abandoned warehouse, then went further along over fenced storage yards and back over the water to fly between the glass office towers. It was on its way.She stopped when she saw an emaciated figure lolling against one of the crumbling brick walls. He looked as though he was in his early twenties, but he’d obviously been on the streets for a while and his ragged clothes were hanging off him. A hand-written sign that was so faded it was almost illegible leaned on the wall next to him, and he had an empty paper cup at his feet, so he was propped up to beg. He stared blankly at Ruth, then his empty expression filled with an open-mouthed wide smile as drool strung from the side of his mouth. He made a few mindless noises at her.Ruth switched her tablet to the London NHS mental health services. ‘This is wrong, mate, they shouldn’t be using you like this. Let me get some help for you.’One of the children charged up to her and spoke with a thick street accent. ‘Leave him, Miss, there’s nothing you can do.’‘The authorities, social services, they can put him in a home or something …’‘Nah, Miss,’ the boy said. ‘See the sign?’The other children appeared from the ruins and gathered around her as Ruth peered at the faded writing on the sign.MA MAYTE CHESTR HERE DID A FUKIN SUPID FING AND HAD 2 LUANGUAGE CHIPS PUT EN. GIV IM SUM COIN CAUS HES A FUKIN STUPED KUNT.‘Oh, you poor, stupid bastard,’ she said to Chester.‘He already had a High Standard language chip to work the wharf, then he gone and got himself a Spanish girlfriend, didn’t he?’ the boy said. ‘Weezer at the bio-shop told ’im that it was safe to have a second chip put in.’A little girl in a tattered dress giggled. ‘And the stupid fucker believed him!’The rest of the children approached Chester and patted him on the back, muttering platitudes. He smiled open-mouthed and drooling at them.‘He had his wallet on him when he got here, so we use his ID for piece work,’ the biggest boy said.Ruth opened her mouth to protest but the little girl chimed in, obviously mimicking a social worker, ‘You can’t do that, child labour is illegal!’They all found this hilarious and laughed.The biggest child touched the wall behind Chester. ‘Leave ’im, Miss. If you call the police or ambulance, they’ll come and laugh at him, then walk away, because he did it to ’imself. Sometimes the Met cops rough ’im up, as well.’‘We look after him!’ the little girl said with pride, and the rest of the children chorused in agreement. Chester made wordless sounds of pleasure at them.Ruth’s tablet pinged, and she checked it. The drone was over the river. She ran to the bank, skipping over the fractured concrete and broken glass, and looked up. She checked the tablet again – less than fifty metres away. It became visible flying over the water. It was half as big again as the Met drones, made of dark purple carbon fibre, and a small laser weapon hung from beneath its body.‘Oh shit!’ the little boy shouted. ‘That’s one of them Paris drones, we need to hide! They have those laser things …’‘I know,’ Ruth said, starting the algorithm to hack into its control stream.‘It’s coming! Run!’ the boy shouted, and the children scattered.The hack worked and Ruth said, ‘Yes!’ under her breath as the download meter started. She followed the drone along the bank as it flew on its circular route. It was preparing to go back over the river and she needed the full set of control codes before it flew out of range …The tablet pinged, and the download was complete – she had the control code suite for the hijacked drone. Once she’d decrypted the codes, she could bring the drone down, access its memory, and find out why these armed Paris drones kept appearing in London airspace.She did a little dance of triumph, then carefully stowed her tablet in her rucksack and looked around. She wanted to talk to the children about getting them help … but they were gone.Before heading back to the office, she stopped at Chester, who was still grinning and drooling. ‘Next time I’m here I’ll bring you something to eat. This isn’t right.’Chester didn’t respond.*Ruth promised