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getting ready to leave, not like someone playing for time.
    When he stood up, fully clothed and ready to go, Otis came up to him. “Are you sure about this?” he said.
    “I knew this day was coming,” said Jack, resolved. “They’re coming for all of us in the end, aren’t they?”
    “Not if you help us stop it,” said Otis.
    Jack looked across at his mother. She still had her coat on and stood with her arms folded. “I can’t.”
    Jennifer came up to Jack, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a long, gentle squeeze. “I’ll miss you,” she said. “But we’ll keep in touch, yeah? I’ll text you when I get my new phone.”
    “Come on, Nathaniel,” said Mrs Jackson.
    Jennifer withdrew her arms from Jack and stood back. Jack straightened his T-shirt and, with a nod, indicated to his mother he was ready to leave.
    He kept his head down as Mrs Jackson led him from the flat. He avoided looking at Otis or Jennifer as he passed them. He didn’t say anything. He allowed his mum to open the front door for him, they walked through and she closed it again; pushing it shut with a gentle click of the catch.
    “Bitch!” said Otis.
    “Did you ’ceive him?” said Jennifer. “He’s so scared.”
    Michael looked from one to the other, wishing to hell he was in the perceivers club. “What’s going on? What’s this appointment?”
    “He’s going to have the cure,” said Jennifer.
    “Cure?” said Michael.
    Otis paced around the room. His anger, barely controlled, thumped down into the floorboards. “They’re going to take everything he is and throw it away.” His rage seethed from every syllable. “They’re going to turn him into a norm.”
    “But you said he was going to be cured,” said Michael.
    “Of perception,” said Jennifer. “It’s a cure for perceivers.”

CHAPTER SIX
Natasha Hill looked directly into the camera. She’d chosen an electric blue blouse to read the news that evening and two pearl earrings large enough to poke out from her shoulder-length blonde hair.
“Waiting lists for clinics have soared since it was announced the procedure to cure teenage perceivers will be available on the NHS. Doctors say they’re getting more calls from desperate parents every day. Our Health Correspondent, Toby Pearce is outside a cure clinic for us now …”
The shot cut to Toby: looking into camera, a light breeze wisping at his thin hair. Behind him, a concrete building with a temporary sign reading Cure Clinic attached to the door.
“Yes, Natasha. Ten teenagers were cured at this clinic today, but doctors I’ve been speaking to say demand is so great, they could have seen ten times that many. I’m with Marjorie Schaffer and her daughter Evy …”
The camera widened the shot. Marjorie – mid-thirties, trendy in T-shirt and jeans – stood proudly next to Evy – not much more than thirteen, clasping onto her mother’s arm like a three-year-old.
“Marjorie, you brought your daughter here to be cured today … How did you feel when you got the appointment?”
Toby directed his fluffy microphone at the mother.
“So relieved. When we got that phone call to say we had a place – well, we knew this was going to be a fresh start for our family. I feel sorry for the other parents. To be living with a perceiver in the house, not knowing how long it’s going to be like that … I mean, I know how hard it is.”
“Evy, if I can turn to you …”
Fluffy microphone angled to the daughter.
“… How does it feel to have been cured?”
Quietly: “Okay.”
“Were you frightened?”
Looks up to Mum for guidance. Mum smiles. Evy shrugs. “Gave me an injection, I woke up in the recovery room. Now I can’t perceive anymore …”
    ~
    MICHAEL DRIED HIS hands on the bathroom towel which was a bit smelly and needed a wash. The sound of the toilet flushing subsided from a gush to a gurgle of the cistern refilling. It allowed the murmur of voices in the lounge to be heard. Michael opened the bathroom