The Marriage Act(15)
‘But look at us now,’ he whispered, ‘hiding, and scared to say anything in case that machine picks up on it.’
Arthur glanced at the Audite. It hadn’t troubled him when it was first installed in every room of their house and the software downloaded on to the couple’s wearable technology. It was a perfect centralized streaming system for music and television, it ordered their shopping, ran them baths and showers, controlled the house’s temperature and measured and warned them if their carbon footprints needed offsetting. It didn’t matter if their conversations were being randomly recorded because there was barely ever a cross word between them. Now, he hated that thing. If he could take a hammer to it then he would. But that was a criminal offence.
‘Can I get you anything?’ he continued, changing the subject.
‘You could close the bedroom window as I’m starting to feel the chill. Then you can give me a cuddle. We don’t cuddle enough.’
‘Okay.’
June was right, he hadn’t been as physical with her as he used to be. As her body and spirit faded before him, he had been too frightened to hold her in case he might bruise or damage her. He hadn’t taken into account her need to be touched, to be held or to feel alive again. He sat on the edge of his bed, kicked off his trainers, then inched his way towards her until they were lying together. Finally, he draped his arm across her chest, then pulled her closer to him.
‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ she whispered, and he nodded.
She felt so frail in his arms and so helpless. But regardless of her appearance or mental capacity, she would always be the June he loved.
His rock, his strength, his wife.
11
Anthony
Each of the six screens in Anthony’s office was filled with moving images, but only one had his undivided attention.
Days after Jem Jones’ suicide, her story remained headline news as each of the major networks covered the national outpouring of grief. He wasn’t naive – he had expected Jem’s dramatic death to dominate several news cycles – but even he was taken aback by the groundswell of support that was showing no signs of shrinking. And he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was only natural, he reasoned, as they had been in one another’s lives for the longest time. But familiarity breeds contempt and there were times that he hated her too, or at least, what she had become.
Already that morning, Sky News had filled its schedule with tributes from other social media luminaries, alongside clips of Jem’s memorable moments and her most-viewed Vlogs. Meanwhile CNN had broadcast a segment where studio-based body language experts dissected her facial and body movements in posts leading up to her death. They picked apart anything that might have indicated her state of mind.
On YouTube, Anthony viewed a report from the previous night, filmed outside Jem’s gated Buckinghamshire home. It was surrounded by hundreds of fans, many wearing her image emblazoned on t-shirts and some in Jem Jones cardboard masks printed from the internet, all holding a candlelit vigil. Photos and posters had been attached to lampposts and bunches of flowers had been tied to the gates or placed on the pavement. There were so many tributes that police had closed the road to traffic. Traces of anti-Jem graffiti remained on walls where she had been vilified before her death.
Anthony considered attending to say one final farewell but changed his mind. He wasn’t ready for her to leave his life just yet. A journalist reporting from the scene made comparisons to the aftermath of the death of the Princess of Wales, King William’s mother. Anthony trawled through online archives to understand the reference and conceded there were definitely parallels.
He became fascinated by interviews with grieving fans expressing their collective outrage at the treatment of Jem and blaming targeted social media campaigns for driving her to her death. ‘Freedom for All is to blame for this,’ shouted one girl into the newsreader’s microphone. ‘They claim they’re a party fighting for equality but they’re killers. The Government needs to cancel groups like that. What happened to Jem is murder.’
Anthony couldn’t argue with that.
There were Jem’s detractors too, although they were receiving less airtime. Depending on who you listened to, Jem was either a tragic heroine, a saviour, the ultimate feminist, a warrior, an everywoman, a campaigner, a sacrificial lamb, the devil’s mouthpiece, a victim or a saint. And to Anthony, she was all of them and more.
He turned the volume up on another screen where a Government spokesman he recognized appeared in the studio paying lip service with soundbites like ‘such a tragedy’ and ‘a terrible waste’ before promising ‘a full and frank discussion about the role social media and other political parties may have played in Jem Jones’ death.’ Anthony knew this was more than just Government rhetoric. It would in all likelihood use this as an excuse to clamp down on freedom of speech. In death as she was in life, Jem would become the figurehead for those with an agenda, used up and spat out when the next big story came along. It was unfair. He had grown to want more for her than that.
But he knew all too well that Jem couldn’t be reasoned with and she didn’t care how unfairly the Act treated people. She could be as unfeeling as the Government she represented. So when he was issued with the kill notice, he knew it was for the greater good.
Anthony diverted his attention towards another screen. A server hidden somewhere in east Europe stored the coded data behind thousands of Bots: the software applications that ran automated tasks across the internet. They had all been programmed with one aim – to make Jem’s life as miserable as possible. They created spam accounts that filled the comments sections across her social media with obscenities and libellous accusations. There had been threats to kill her; parody accounts fabricated to mock her and fake news to spread about her.