Authors: Al Robertson
Crashing Heaven (22 page)
As they left the hotel, a porter enquired about the length of Jack’s stay. Fist was unimpressed.
[ Unctuous fuck. I preferred Charlie.]
[ He was a funny man.]
[ He was very lonely.]
Jack was surprised that Fist had seen through Charlie’s façade. Such precise emotional details usually escaped him. [ Fancy moving in with him instead of me?] he asked.
[ Fuck right off!]
Fist picked over the Totality software as their train rattled through the Wart. [ It’s fascinating!] he chirped. [Completely open, I can just walk right into all the source code.]
[Different from Pantheon products.]
[ No licensing, no end date. Maybe there is a point to them after all.]
[So what does it do?]
[Minds are all connected all the time. Even when a bit of one’s dormant, it pings for any other units around it. The software sweeps for those signals. But they need to be pretty close for it to work.]
Jack had to change trains at Vitality Junction. InSec were waiting for him. Operatives pulled him out of the carriage. ‘Lestak wants to see you,’ one of them said, hustling Jack down the platform.
She was furious. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ she raged.
‘I’m doing something useful for people who deserve help.’
‘They’re not people, they’re an operating system with ambitions. And you’re ignoring my direct warning. I told you to step back.’
‘I’m here under a diplomatic licence, as specified in the initial Pantheon/Totality peace treaty. I’m outside your jurisdiction.’
‘So you’re a lawyer now?’
‘You can’t stop me.’
‘You have no right to be in Homelands. At best you’ll get in the way, at worst you’ll cause chaos. Lethal chaos.’
‘I’m here to look for mind fragments on behalf of the Totality. That’s it.’
‘Then you’d better make damn sure you stick within the terms of your licence. If you take just one step over the line I’ll have you in a Turing cage in an InSec cellblock faster than you can take your next breath. And if that puppet of yours comes out to play I’ll have you in a coma until it takes over, and as far beyond as I can possibly manage.’
‘Let’s be very clear, Lestak. There’s no way that you’ll catch me stepping out of line.’
Another train neared the station.
‘For gods’ sake. Get out of here.’
‘With pleasure.’
A few minutes later, Jack and Fist rattled into Violin Gardens. [ It’s residential space leased to mid-level executives,] explained Jack. [People who watch Heaven every day but are never going to get there.]
[Sounds like torture.]
[ I was one of them once. I was happy enough.]
Violin Gardens was circular. A thousand windows reflected light into the complex’s central garden space. Streams and little waterfalls danced between spiked brown metal shapes that were simplified representations of trees. They were rammed into areas of patchy grass like stubbed-out cigars.
[ How far onweave do you want to be, Jack?]
[Same as everyone else.]
Brown metal became deep-textured bark. Leaves sprang out of branches. A beautiful lawn bloomed from the scrubby grass, striped pale then darker green where an imaginary lawnmower had moved up and down. Birds flashed red and purple between the trees. Their songs mingled with the susurrus of the streams and the soft, rich sighing of a thousand violins.
[So that’s where it got the name.]
[Apparently the classical music stops teenagers from hanging out.]
[ Typical Pantheon, even the art’s there to control you.]
There were a few people wandering through the gardens. Some walked arm in arm. Others lay on the soft turf, staring up at the Spine. The gods returned their gaze. Their Homelands incarnations were higher resolution and more imaginatively animated than those that overlooked Docklands. Even Grey’s raven – still chained – was more active, hopping from leg to leg and occasionally trying to scratch itself with its beak.
[East is certainly cute,] said Fist. [ I bet you’d love another upgrade from her.]
[ I never enjoy not being able to choose.]
As Jack spoke, the goddess turned her face towards him. Golden hair billowed up and around her head, sparkling weightlessly in the sunlight.
[ Fuck, Jack, she’s looking right at you.]
[More than looking.]
The goddess winked from on high.
[Shit,] said Jack.
[ That was public,] said Fist. [Everyone will have seen it.]
And indeed everyone was pointing up, then looking around to see who East could have been communing with. A soft sound drifted around Jack, almost lost in the birdsong – the faintest suggestion of a giggle.
[So much for keeping a low profile,] groaned Fist. [ I’m going to end up comatose in an InSec cell!]
[ Nobody knows she was looking at us,] Jack reassured him. He pointed up and looked around, pretending to be as thrilled and puzzled as everyone else.
[ The news channels are just starting to pick it up.]
[Let’s move. She’s just having fun, it’s what she does. Bring up the search pattern, Fist.]
Ifor’s search app dropped a single white line over the estate. It coiled around it, mapping out the most efficient exploration path. As they followed it, Fist monitored the news.
The more celebrity obsessed channels went live to Violin Gardens, talking excitedly with those who’d witnessed East’s wink. People who had no particular relationship with the divinity expressed a guardedly general sense of gratitude. Her more devoted followers gushed about very personal moments of contact. An up-and-coming clothing designer was convinced that East had personally blessed the Chuigushou Mall launch event for her new collection. A middle-aged man described a new relationship. He was now confident that it would endure. A jogger gave thanks for East’s intercession. She was involved with a charity that was having difficulty raising money. Now, she could share its details with a massive media audience.
Jack felt very happy to have left Pantheon worship far behind. The last seven years had at least gifted him atheism. He thought with embarrassment how excited his younger self would have been by East’s visitation.
The search pattern led them on. Trees gathered in clumps around sunlit glades, filled with bright flowers and softly glowing patches of sunlight. Ground level apartment doors were represented by wooden arches. Flutes played, backed by pattering hand drums.
[ How do people live with such crap, Jack?]
[ It’s a dream they want to share.]
[ It’s an advert they want to inhabit. Let’s get rid of this bullshit.]
Glamour vanished. The unwoven apartment doors caught Fist’s eye. [ They’re a bit odd,] he commented. A few were pale bleached wood, matching the soft pastel colour of the block walls. Most were hard unpainted metal. Their uncompromising emphasis on security jarred with the soft tastefulness of the rest of Violin Gardens.
[ What are these people afraid of ?] asked Fist.
[ I don’t know.]
[ I could break us in there. Take a look round, see why these idiots are so paranoid.]
[ We’re keeping our noses clean.]
[ I’ll give them something to be scared of. Rewrite their homes, they come home, open the door – zombie horde attack!]
[ No.]
[ Boring.]
[Any word from Harry yet?]
[ That wanker. I don’t know why you haven’t told him to fuck off.]
[ We need him to scout for us. Now, be serious. Any messages?]
[ None. Want me to ping him? I can bring your weavespace up, subvert a local weave connection, bounce round a few servers. We’ll be untraceable.] Fist yawned theatrically. [And it’ll pass a couple of nanoseconds. If I’m lucky.]
It was nighttime in Jack’s weavespace. A wax-pale moon hung over the empty gardens, bringing white stone, green leaves and vivid petals to soft and gentle life, and scattering a shimmer of white across the little pool at their heart. The moon was too bright to allow stars near it, but further away scores dappled the clear night. A gentle breeze rustled through the tree tops. An owl called, its down-soft cry promising life to its young, death to its prey. Andrea’s statue glowed with soft beauty. Ifor’s image stood just by it. Even his nanogel body seemed to have something of the sylvan to it.
‘Fucking hell,’ grumbled Fist. ‘Should be afternoon. Timing’s out of whack.’
‘Let it be, Fist. I always loved it at night.’
There was a shadow up at the door of Grey’s temple. It could have just been a ghost that the moonlight made.
‘Fancy a chat with his nibs?’
‘No, Fist, I do not. Where did you hide the link to Harry?’
‘By that tree. As far away from Andrea as I could.’
Jack walked over to the tree, crossing from paving flags to turf. The ground here was so much softer. Jack left deep, dark footprints in the dewy grass. Fist sat on a stone in the middle of the pond. A fishing rod appeared in his hand, and a little pointy little hat on his head.
‘Maybe I should go into the gnome business, Jack?’
‘For gods’ sake. Now, where is he?’
‘Under the grass, where that root ends.’
‘Shit. You know, it used to seem entirely normal to summon the dead from under the ground.’
Jack found the spot, hooked his fingers under the sward and lifted up a square of turf. Harry’s stone face peered up from beneath it. An earwig scuttled across it. Jack brushed it away then touched Harry’s cheek. The statue rose smoothly out of the grass. Colour spread across it, a soft contagion of presence that quickly created a living man from stone. A few seconds, and Harry was completely real. There was a little splash as Fist fell off his rock, then swearing as he pulled himself out.
‘Hello,
Jack,’ smiled Harry. He looked around. ‘Nice place you’ve
got here.’
‘Cheers,’ replied Jack. ‘But we’ve got business.
How’s Yamata?’
‘Isolate Fist. I don’t want him
to hear.’
[ Fuck’s sake Jack. Without me, he wouldn’
t have even found her.]
‘There’s really no need,
Harry.’
‘Do it. Then I’ll talk.’
[ Why’s he
being so paranoid?] said Fist.
[ Tit for tat. I wish
you two’d stop playing games with each other.]
[Don’
t trust him, Jack. Remember, he’s different.]
[ I know.]
Jack switched to open speech. ‘Fist – stand away. Now.’
Fist
grumbled his way out of earshot. Harry waited until he’
d disappeared.
‘He’s gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. So – it’s
a small office block. Company’s called TrueShield. Yamata’s
in there now.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Receptionist, office staff. Maybe twenty
or thirty in total.’
‘Quite the little operation. Anything else?’
‘
Substantial data flowing in and out, but it’s heavily
encoded. Their defence software’s Pantheon grade. Normally I’d
be able to nudge in – but not here. It’s
like we thought, you need to get into their server
room physically. Then we can dig all the dirt on
Yamata and follow it right back to her patron.’
‘Fist’
ll sort that out.’
‘Once you’re in, I’ll
manifest through him. Bit of extra muscle.’
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘I
told Fist I wouldn’t give you that kind of
access.’
‘Shit, Jack, you were serious?’
‘I made a promise.’
‘
Gods. Last time I let you two out alone, he
lost it and fucked everything. You need me there. I’
ll help keep him under control. And when he brings
gods know what down on you, I’ll use his
weapons to fight it off.’
‘Fist can fight his own battles. And they don’t want to hurt him. We’ll use that against them.’
‘These are serious people you’re fucking with, Jack. Not just squishies.’
‘Fist understands exactly what they can do to him. He didn’t back at Access station. He won’t get in the way this time. I’m sure of it.’
‘There’s a lot of corruption in this world, Jack. You can’t trust anyone, these days. And he was never a friend you chose to make.’
‘I’ve made my mind up.’
‘Fine, fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll need me once you’re in there, I guarantee it. In the meantime, there are practicalities. You need to get over to TrueShield without triggering any alarms.’
‘That won’t be a problem. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.’
‘I’ll expect you.’
Harry returned to stone and fell back into the dark earth. Jack covered his cold, grey face with turf.
‘Fist,’ he shouted, ‘we’re done.’
The moon vanished from the sky, which then disappeared too. Suddenly there was no stone path, or silvered grass, or softly hissing fountain – just the tawdry cheapness of an unwoven Violin Gardens.
‘Right, Fist. I need you to build me a datasprite, and then make a sweathead of me.’
‘After you’ve sent me off to the bottom of the garden so I don’t offend your dodgy mate? Not sure why I should bother.’
‘Just do it, Fist.’
They waited until the end of the afternoon before disappearing offweave. They left a datasprite – skinned as Jack – moving through Violin Gardens, following Ifor’s search pattern. As evening wore on it would take refuge in a nearby bar, where they’d reintegrate with it at their leisure.
Fist was still grumbling as they set off for TrueShield.
[ You wasted my time back there, Jack. You could have just charmed someone, I’d have skinned him, swapped you both around, and anyone watching onweave would have thought you were him and he was you.]
[ I don’t like doing that to people.]
[Oh! But you don’t mind working me till my subroutines pop, do you? And now we’re offweave, and I’m draining myself with camouflage software that – if you please – it took me a good mega-hour of poly-processor work to pull together. And to cap it all, we’ve got to walk! If you’d charmed someone we could have just got the train over.]
[And we’d have been much more likely to get caught. We’ll soon be there, it’s only another half-hour or so.]
[And I bet you’re going to make me open a portal for him too.]
[ He asked me to. I said no.]
[ Hmmph.]
As they neared TrueShield it started to get dark. Pale white lights guided commuters away from offices and laboratories. Tastefully arranged spotlights danced shadows across them, highlighting fashionable clothing and up-to-the-minute hairstyles. There were designer sigils everywhere.
Fist dismissed them with a single word.
[ Wankers.]
They reached TrueShield’s address and looked around for Harry. He emerged from a shadowy service doorway with the suddenness of a flaring match.
[ Fetches shouldn’t be able to do that,] said Fist. [ You shouldn’t have let him come along.]
[ He’s rebuilt himself, Fist. He’s much more than just a fetch. And he’s only doing the scouting. The heavy lifting’s down to us. Now don’t be so petty.]
[ You feel so guilty about fucking his wife you’re letting him get away with murder.]
[Stop whinging.]
Harry beckoned to Jack, then disappeared back into the darkness. Jack joined him in cover. ‘Yamata’s in there?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes.’
The TrueShield building was a four-storey white box, set in a round lake. The corners of the building touched the edge of the lake, creating a crescent before each façade. Spotlights angled down into the crescents, their light bouncing off the water and then dancing up and over the white walls and black windows of the building. Most of the internal lights had been turned off. A small bridge led to reception, which blazed confidently into the night. Squinting, Jack could just see a blue-shirted security guard sat at the front desk.
‘He’ll be easy enough,’ said Fist.
‘If you don’t balls it up,’ cut in Harry. ‘Which you have done before.’
‘Says the dead man. Who got himself shot by opening a file.’
‘One of these days you’ll appreciate your betters.’
‘One of these days you’ll kiss my wooden arse.’
‘Gods’ sake, you two,’ snapped Jack. ‘Stop bickering. We’ve got a job to do.’ He turned to Harry. ‘How many left in there?’
‘Eight, including Yamata,’ Harry told him.
‘Know anything about them?’
‘Mostly medical people.’
‘Odd. But not dangerous.’
‘I went digging through some civic management databases. Found a floor plan.’ Harry touched Jack’s arm, and the building’s walls became transparent. Jack pulled away, shocked. ‘Don’t take me onweave, Harry. For gods’ sake.’
‘You’re not onweave. I’m accessing your implants directly.’
‘You shouldn’t be able to do that.’
‘I told you. InSec tech.’ Harry winked at Jack. ‘Backdoors everywhere, if you know where to find them. So stop worrying, and let me show you …’ He took Jack’s arm. Once again, the building became an x-ray of itself.
[ He’s in you. But he’s not in me. So that’s OK,] Fist told Jack.
Red dots speckled the building. Each represented a weave presence moving through the building’s virtual spaces.
[ It’s all one hundred per cent accurate,] said Fist sulkily.
[Glad to hear it.]
Harry rubbed his hands together. ‘Right. we’ve got a break-in to plan.’
Fist probed TrueShield. Its security systems were Pantheon protected, but the security guard’s weren’t. He worked for a subcontractor who’d skimped on some of the basics. So Fist was able to walk into the guard’s weave presence, spin down the link he’d established with the reception desk and drop an appointment into TrueShield’s corporate diary for a Mr Ricker, arriving in about ten minutes.
‘I hate to say it, Jack, but when he’s good, he’s not bad at all,’ said Harry grudgingly.
‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Fist replied.
‘Worth a try. You won’t let me get in there through you, once you’re inside?’
‘No.’
‘If you get into trouble, you’ll need my help.’
‘We won’t run into anything I can’t handle.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Jack. ‘We’ve got an appointment to keep.’
As it turned out, Mr Ricker looked very much like Jack. ‘Bit late for a visit, sir,’ said the security guard as he invoked a guest tag.
‘It’s quieter in the evening. And my business is very personal.’
‘Ah.’ The guard didn’t ask any more questions, but there was a lightly conspiratorial tone in his voice. The tag appeared in his hand. ‘Here you go.’ It skipped off his chubby finger and on to Jack’s arm, running up his shoulder to sit by his ear. Its dove-white wings rustled as it went. It nestled down comfortably, until – running its own security checks – it brushed against Jack’s weave presence. There was a tiny, shrill scream and it threw itself into the air, pointing at Jack, a look of fear on its face. Its little wings were now the brightest, most unmistakable red.
The security guard looked apologetic.
‘It says that you’re not called Alois Ricker. That you’ve masked yourself.’
‘As I said – discretion.’ Jack let the word roll off his tongue. He sounded calm, but inside he was furious.
[ Fucking hell, Fist, you’re meant to have covered all of this off.]
[ It’s just a detail. You’ll charm your way out of it.]
[ I don’t like using the Eastware on innocents. It’s too unpredictable.]
‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to have to confirm your appointment.’
He prodded at the air in front of him.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have a record of who you’re here to see.’
[Divert him, Fist.]
[ I can fry the sprite. But the guard’s suspicious already, if he notices he’ll get really paranoid. You’ve got to charm him too. Fuck’s sake Jack, it’s easy enough, just don’t turn it up to full.]
The guard was moving from sympathetic to lightly hostile.
‘I’m sorry sir, I do need a full name.’
[ Fuck it,] said Jack. [ Fuck. OK, sort out the sprite. I want it on our side.]
He tugged lightly at his Eastware. A smile spread across his face like a neon sun rising. The guard was just running through the security code that would allow him to trigger the desk’s emergency alert systems.
‘Do you know, I can’t remember,’ Jack told him. ‘But I don’t think it really matters, does it?’
‘Sir, I’ve been very specifically briefed …’ stammered the guard. A light sweat shimmered across his forehead. Jack was glad that the desk covered his lower half.
‘Briefed? To ask for a name? You don’t trust me?’
‘Oh no, sir. Not at all. No, I wouldn’t say that,’ said the guard. There was a desperate eagerness to please in his voice.
[ That’s more like it!] said Fist. [ He’s working for us now.]
‘Well then, wouldn’t it be a good idea to let me into the office?’ said Jack.
‘Oh, yes. Yes!’
The guard was already halfway out from behind the desk. The bottom button of his shirt had come undone. A soft, rounded slab of belly peaked out from behind it, black hairs straggling across it like cracks. ‘Anything you say, sir,’ he gabbled. Jack was appalled by the effect he’d achieved. The guard chose not to see. ‘I’ll just let you in now, sir.’
[ How long do you think the effects last when you’re not around?]
[ Not long, I hope.]
[ Then turn it up! Make sure he stays onside for good.]
[ No. And no more carelessness.]
The guard made a very precise series of gestures. An internal door hummed open, revealing a short, bland corridor with another door at its end.
‘There you go, sir. Have a good evening, sir.’
Jack thanked him, then asked: [ How’s the sprite?]
[ Reprogrammed. It’ll lead us to their server room, and make sure we don’t run into anyone on the way. It thinks it’s taking us to a meeting room on the other side of the building.]
[ You’re sure?]
[Of course I’m bloody sure.]
[Good.]
The little creature buzzed into the air between them, wings moving so fast they became a shadow hanging from its back. It had tiny compound eyes set in a hard bone face that was almost human. Its sharp-edged body was dressed in brilliant rags. There was a scarf wrapped round its waist. It was red, silver and green, the TrueShield corporate colours. ‘Can I conduct you to your destination, fair gentles?’ it said, its voice a piping squeak.
[ I’ve seen this sort of thing onweave. It’s very fashionable.] Fist’s voice was full of contempt.
[As long as it takes us where we need to be,] replied Jack, [ I really don’t care.]
The sprite was hovering impatiently by the door at the end of the corridor. It beckoned to Jack. ‘Follow me, follow me – but don’t step from the path,’ it shrilled. The door opened and Jack stepped forward. ‘Wait, wait, good gentle! First I must cast my net around you.’
[ I get it,] said Fist. [ If anyone breaks in, it irritates them to death.]
The creature fluttered around them both, singing a half-whispered, half-roared little song. A net-shaped shimmer wrapped itself around Jack. Fist swore under his breath. Terms and conditions for TrueShield access flashed up, more quickly than Jack could read. He nodded acceptance. The little flying creature smiled, showing teeth that looked like a bone hacksaw blade. Spotting them, Fist nodded appreciatively.
[Maybe it could do some damage, at that.]
And so they walked into TrueShield as if they were guests. The sprite took them down a long corridor. There were ancient trees where the walls should have been. Doors opened between them, leading into small work suites. Once the sprite gestured them into an office, then closed the door behind them. Footsteps passed by. When the passage was silent again, it led them back out.
‘I have kept you safe, kind sirs!’
The corridor ended and they stepped into a large atrium, open to the darkness of the night. Then reality began to change. As they walked towards the atrium’s centre, a forest grew up around them. It was far more ancient than the one they’d encountered in Violin Fields. Mist curled around moss-shrouded trees, all snarled in on themselves like arthritic hands. It lent the darkness between the trees an almost physical quality, turning it into a thick, stodgy murk. There were standing stones, too – archaic shapes rearing grey in the gloom. Some stood alone. Others were piled up to make arches. All hinted at lost peoples, forgotten rites and hidden meanings.
[ This is purest essence of bullshit,] said Fist.
[ It’s branding. It’s meant to represent the company and the dangerous world of hidden hazards it can guide us through.]
[Gods. I want to cut my own strings. Where did you learn to talk such nonsense?]
[ I dated an advertising executive. She showed me how to read this kind of thing.]
The path the sprite was leading them down did, in fact, feel very safe indeed, when compared to the deep forest. It was paved with grey stone blocks that cut through the gloom with confident certainty. The sprite turned to look back at them. ‘If you follow the TrueShield path,’ it announced, ‘you’re always safe.’
‘How much further?’ Jack asked it.
‘A few minutes.’
[ There can’t have been a forest like this for centuries,] said Fist.
[ There’s never been anywhere like this.]
[ Really?]
[ This is just a dream. Like Violin Fields. Like the whole of Homelands.]
[ I thought you loved it here, Jack.]
[ Not any more. I’ve been away too long and I’ve seen too much. The Totality, everyone who’s with them – I never knew it before, but they’ve made the void their own. Not like us.] He gestured around him. [ We’ve built a home from dreams and called it memory. Then we try and live in those memories and call that life. But it’s just nostalgia.]
[ That’s very philosophical, Jack.]
[ What do you see when you look at it all?]
[Patterns waiting to be broken.]
[ Is that all we are to you?]
[ That’s all this is.]
They walked on in silence. Then Fist was hovering by Jack. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and spoke. His voice was carefully neutral. [ I’ll be breaking your pattern soon. I thought I’d enjoy it.] Jack stopped walking. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. [ I’m sorry,] Fist told him.
Jack was both moved and astonished. He was silent for a moment, then said in a soft voice: [ We don’t have a choice. We’ve just got to make the best of it.]
The Sprite turned back and saw that they’d stopped. ‘Tarry not, good gentles!’ it squeaked. ‘We near our destination.’
[One more word out of that jumped-up mosquito …]
[ Fist!]
The path led through an arch in the trees.
‘Behold! The object of your quest. My task is done.’
The sprite melted away.
[Kill this virtual bollocks?] asked Fist.
[Do it.]
The forest vanished. Hard neon illumination replaced gloomy sylvan dusk, hurting Jack’s eyes. Everything was white – the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the server stacks that stood in henges all around them. Technology hummed and air conditioning whined.
[ Fuck yes,] breathed Fist. [ Beautiful, just beautiful.]
[ How long till you’re in?]
Fist pattered over to one of the server stacks. His fingertips sunk into its white plastic body. Jack felt a light tug on his consciousness as Fist drew on deep resources.