Ellie Quin - 04 - Ellie Quin in WonderLand (12 page)

'Uh, not really.'

'Pity. I was going to explain how these machines are a teeny tiny bit like archaic old devices back then that were called 3D printers, devices they experimented with for a while.' He stepped up close to one of the bowls and pointed at a number of finely articulated mechanical arms with pincer-like tips almost as fine and delicate as threads of hair, which descended from the cap at
the top. 'The designs that we can produce in these fabrication pods are simply too
unnatural
for a normal clone growth process to develop. So, they're built from scratch.'

'You can make…
anything
in these?'

'Indeed. Anything organic.'

'Frasier was grown…' she corrected herself, '…
fabricated
in one of these?'

'Yes, of course. He's one of my more ambitious products, though. I designed him to have longterm functionality. Not just to live for a few hours or a couple of days. He has a fully functional digestive system, a fairly robust artificial intelligence, a self sustaining immune and self-repair system. Proper blood chemistry right the way through. On the other hand
basic
products can be designed with just a muscular motor system and an internal store of nutrition to power that. Enough to keep them going for several hours or days without the need for a digestive process or some defecation orifice-'

'Oh! I know! Just like a podkin!'

'Podkin?' Shelby's brow knitted for a brief moment. 'Oh, you mean one of those children's toys? The seed creatures?'

'Yeah.'

'Hmm…yes, a bit like one of those, I suppose. Very elementary design work.'

Ellie really didn't know much at all about genetic engineering, so she expected another long-suffering sigh and a roll of the eyes from Shelby with her next question. 'So…how do you know that some creature you're fabricating in there is going to, you know, like…
live
when he comes out?'

He surprised her with a smile. 'Very good question. The answer to that is that we test each design in a virtual environment, a simulator, before we proceed to the fabrication stage. The software checks that basic functional parameters are being met.

'Those ridiculous Sugar Beany soldiers…' and now he
did
sigh, 'the ones that Graham designed? For example, the simulation software would have checked first whether the limbs were thick enough and strong enough to support the weight of the design's round, bean shaped body. Whether the limbs were broad enough to fit within them a sufficiently firm enough skeletal chassis, muscular tissue, an arterial system and tendons and so on. The software examines the user's design and queries potential problems. It runs the design in a virtual environment to see whether it can stand, walk and how long it would survive for.'

He pursed his lips disdainfully. 'In actual fact it really makes it far, far too easy for any old moron to produce something that will live. For a short while, at least. Even your friend Jez would probably be able to come up with something that was viable for a few hours.'

Ellie wondered how she was getting on in Gray's world. Apart from sending a quick viddee over the system - blowing Ellie a kiss and winking at her - there'd been nothing more from her.

Shelby had just asked her something. 'Sorry?'

'I said…would you like to have a go at designing some creature?

Ellie nodded. It would be good to have something to take her mind off worrying about Jez. 'I'd love to see what I could come up with. Yes please.'

'Hmmm.' He tugged his bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. 'I'll give
you
a basic tutorial, then. I'm not sure I want to try and explain it to your friend. I find her very irritating.'

'Shelby?'

'Hmmm?'

'Do you think she's going to be…you know…okay with Gray?'

'Okay?' He shrugged. 'Sure. He may be extremely irritating, but he's quite harmless.'

She stifled a relieved laugh. There was that about Shelby; he seemed to be pathologically honest. 'Good.'

'So, you'd like to try your hand at genetic modelling?'

'I'd really like that.'

'Fine. Then I'll schedule some time into my routine for you.'

He led her down the rows of glowing green bowls, all of them now empty except for the foggy green liquid. 'These fabrication pods need to be cleaned out and the grow solution properly filtered. They're looking decidedly murky.' He shook his head and tutted. 'It's Graham's turn to do that as well. He's so annoyingly messy and unprofessional. I really don't know how he got a job here.'

He turned to look at her. 'I'm actually rather pleased he lives over in his world. I think he'd drive me quite insane if I had to share a living space with him all the time.' He pointed to a power cable running across the floor. 'Caution. Trip hazard.'

They stepped over it and carried on down the row.

'Shelby?'

'Yes?'

'The other day, when we first arrived, you mentioned something. And you haven't mentioned it since.'

'What was that?'

'You said when WonderLand was closed down this place was left with a team of twelve caretaker technicians. And then you said it was just you and Graham here.'

Shelby paused. 'Did I?'

'Yes, you did.'

'So?

'So…what?'

'So, you know?…where are they? Did they resign their jobs? Were they made redundant? Or-'

'Oh, no,' he replied matter-of-factly. 'They all died.'

'
Died
!? How?'

'It was a structural malfunction. I told you this facility wasn't fully completed when it was closed down?'

'Yes.'

'So, a few years back the rest of the technicians were in World Four. Personally, I refused to set foot in there. Ever. That biome was not properly signed off as a hundred percent user-safe. But they were in there, celebrating someone's birthday if I recall correctly. I think they must have programmed a stormy day or something. A sky panel wasn't properly pressure-tested and came loose. The biome completely depressurised and everything loose was sucked out into space.'

Shelby pressed his lips together. 'A very sad day.'

Ellie looked at him closely. There didn't seem to be a shred of genuine emotion on his face. He tried a frown, then a scowl. Then an
aw-shucks
tut.

'I did try and tell those fools it wasn't safe. I
did
try and tell them many times. But would they listen? No. They completely ignored me. In fact Amanda told me I was being completely boring on the subject. She told me that I was a 'health and safety drone'.' His eyes were off somewhere for a moment. Distracted. 'I do sometimes wonder if the very last thing that went through her mind as she flew out into deep space was;
Oh dear, Maybe Shelby isn't such a health and safety bore after all
.'

Ellie cocked a brow.

He shook his head suddenly. As if coming back into himself. 'Anyway…that's what happened to the others. Very very unfortunate. Although I can't say I miss Amanda. I didn't like her very much. She was a bit like your friend, Jez. A very rude busybody.'

CHAPTER 16

Karl had an address, not written down, not typed into a mem-pad or a cheap WristBuddy, but firmly scored in his mind. The safest place for it now that The Administration's marines had established checkpoints all over the city and were doing random stop-n-stripdowns. The address was for a flesh bar in the industrial sector. A place called
Strangerz
. He pushed his way along a crowded rat run between a chem-recyc dealer and an O2 filtration sub-station.

The fizzing neon red sign for Strangerz was just up ahead. He stepped out of the hasty push of people; a tide with an increasing sense of urgency to it. Many of the stalls and marketplaces around the city had already begun to lock up their premises. Hastily scribbled signs ('We ARE EMPTY!') seemed to have quickly become a common sight. Even though The Administration's marines had already established a number of emergency ration distribution points, citizens were still scouring the streets for shops still open for business.

He pushed his way through a heavy plated door and stepped into the dark interior of the bar. Dimmed purple spotlights shone down as they floated slowly around the ceiling, illuminating a scuffed and stained plastic dance floor. In the middle of the floor was a dance frame of aluminium tubing. Leather swing seats and harnesses and shackles dangled from its crossbars on lengths of chain.

That was the floor show; where the exotic dancers, dangled, swung, preened and pouted. Around the floor were several seat booths and a number of private curtained cubicles, where some of the girls' on-the-premises business was conducted.

Karl spotted the man he was supposed to meet. He'd been told the man was young, would be alone and holding a solitary yellow
Yo-Stick
. A plausible enough thing for the man to be holding in a flesh bar; it was how clients signalled their interest in a particular girl on the dance floor. The girls were colour coded and the clients set the colour they wanted to make their stick light up.

No girls right now. And no other clients. The place was deserted.

Karl sat down opposite the man. 'You're the one, I presume.'

The young man stared at him. 'Don't be so quick to presume. I could be an Administration agent.'

Karl looked at him. He seemed so young, earnest and very intense. If it wasn't for the scruffy tufts of a not-quite-ready beard along his jaw line, he might even
have been boyishly handsome. 'I've handled enough of The Administration's dirty work to know one of their operatives when I see one.'

'We have to be extra cautious, extra vigilant now the marines are here.'

So young
. Karl wondered how old he was. Twenty? Younger?

'Relax. I'm a pro. I've been in this business long enough. You got my money?'

The young man nodded. 'I've been told to tell you, they are very pleased with you.'

Karl shrugged. 'The girl escaped. That's what you people paid me to ensure happened.'

The young man held out a credit data-card. 'Thirty thousand as agreed.'

Karl took it from him, pulled out his wallet and produced his own card. He tapped the credit data-card against his own. It came to life, softly glowing. A small digital display on his card flickered and spun-up as the amount transferred across.

Karl nodded. Satisfied. 'It all seems to be there.' He smiled and handed the data-card back to the young man. 'Now she's offworld I presume our business is done.'

'My teacher is very happy with your work. However, we may need your services again.'

Teacher
?

Karl sat back in his seat. 'Teacher? Hold on….'

'Yes,' said the young man. 'If that's what you're going to ask. I am a Rebornist.'

'You're not just Rebornist….are you? You're
Awoken
?'

Teacher/student
; that's how those fanatics referred to each other. There was also the yellow Yo-Stick. Yellow was the colour of their faith. Yellow, traditional colour of the sun, a symbol of regeneration, rebirth. He sat back further, distancing himself a little from the intense gaze of the young man opposite him.

Karl was done doing business. The sooner he left the better. 'Look, I don't normally deal with-'

'Fanatics? Terrorists?' The young man narrowed his eyes. 'Child killers?'

Karl took a deep breath. 'I didn't know who I was dealing with. Until now. That wasn't made clear to me.'

'You disapprove of us?'

Be cautious Karl. These people are insane
. He'd witnessed with his own eyes the immediate aftermath of some of their handiwork; a vest-bomber on Liberty. The bloody ragged fragments of people; and yes, the pieces of what were once women and children amongst the smoking carnage on the rubble-strewn street.

'I…I understand what you people want. What you're fighting for. Sure, that's none of my business. But it's
how
you people go about it that disgusts me.'

'We have no choice how we go about it. We have no standing army like The Administration. All we have is our faith. Our determination. Our resolution. Without us humanity will be eternally doomed. Only
we
can save-'

'I really don't need to hear your religious crap.' Karl spread his hands. 'I don't want to hear you try
justifying
what you do.'

Be careful Karl
. He softened his voice to a more conciliatory tone. 'I'm not a believer. Okay? I'm just a businessman.'

'Yet I can see clearly you look down on us.' The young man smiled coldly. 'You think of us as barbaric animals? Don't you?'

Karl was cautious enough not to agree openly. But he couldn't bring himself to deny that either.

'Clearly you do.' The young man nodded ruefully. 'We do what we have to, because it must be done. There is simply no alternative.'

'There's a better way to fight The Administration than blowing up innocent people.'

'Humanity is dying.' The young man shook his head sadly. 'People don't want to hear that. They see nothing but the day or the week ahead. They are dull-eyed and deaf. So, we have to scream for them to hear the message.'

Screams
. Karl remembered screams alright. Children's screams. A girl wandering across a smouldering city plaza looking for her missing arm.

'The difference between us, Karl…is that we do what we do for the sake of future generations of humanity. On the other hand, you do what you do…for money.' The young man shook his head. 'And yet
we're
the bad people here?'

'Generally I don't judge, not where work is concerned. But, terrorists? He shook his head. 'If I'd known…?'

The young man sighed. 'So you don't want to do any more work for us?'

'We're done.'

The young man considered that, then nodded. 'I'll tell my teacher.' He offered Karl his hand. 'We're not bad people, you know? History will one day show that.'

Karl studied his offered hand. A question occurred to him. Something he wanted to ask before they finally parted company. 'Tell me….what's that girl all about? Why is she so damned important to you people?'