Inkers (10 page)

M: ill be here

Amber waited, surfing the darknet, bored. She wanted desperately to speak to Robert but she knew she’d have to wait. Over four and a half hours passed and, just when her eyes were drifting shut against the faint glow of the screen, the message box popped up.

STINGRAY: hey, you there?

MARDUK: finally!

M: yea, im here

M: 2 hours my ass

S: yea sorry, i got the file, though, it’s on a timer but here it is

M: you did?

M: this better be good

S: enjoy, tell anyone and im dead…

A prompt appeared. “Accept photo, yes, no.”

“Emily,” Amber said.

“Yep.”

“Can you catch this?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said.

“Ready?” Amber said.

“Ready.”

“Count me down,” Amber said.

“Ten,” Emily said. A photo appeared and filled Amber’s vision, a dark, high room with large beams crossing at the top and bare stone walls at the side —“Nine.” In the centre were the first two of what looked like twin rows of high reflective silver containers – “Eight,” —with glass portholes in each, white on the left, black on the right – “Seven,” —it looked like ink, yes, and judging by the size of the containers, it was more than she’d ever seen before.

“You getting this?” Amber said.

“No, it’s been done well – six – I can’t see it. I’ll keep trying. Five.”

“Shit,” Amber said, scanning as quickly as she could for any sign of a location. A concrete floor, a large bush in a big pot, what looked like shutters behind the vats – “Four,” —and reflected on the vats, warped by the curvature, what looked like desks, piles of books – “Three,” —and there, squashed reflection on the left side of the right tank —“Two,” – a figure, holding something, it was the person taking the photo —“One,” – and there above her, stretched, hanging white pods, VR suits, occupied VR suits, all white to show they weren’t looking out, except one, the facemask gone transparent, and Amber could just see a warped and disturbing face, looking out –

The photo disappeared abruptly. Amber released her breath.

“Gone. You get it?” she said.

“Sorry,” Emily said. “Some decent crypto and evasion stuff they had going on. I couldn’t even pick up anything from the screen, it was cycling through wavelengths on a special pattern or something.”

“Oh, man,” Amber said. “Vats, concrete floor, like a barn, shutters at the end, someone dressed in black taking the photo in the reflection, some VR pods hanging behind her. One of them was looking at her.”

“Wish I could look straight in your viz cortex,” Emily said.

“That would be very illegal. What’s happened to you?”

“Your bad influence.”

“Hmm. It looked real,” Amber said. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Nope,” Emily said.

“Maybe our friend can give me another look,” Amber said.

MARDUK: huh

STINGRAY: what dyou think?

M: dunno

S: you dunno?

S: ive put my life on the line for you here

S: god knows what sort of tracking theyve got on me

M: i just dunno

M: looks fake to me

S: fake?

M: ye. the reflections look a bit off

S: a bit off?

M: just a hunch

M: this signal’s driven everyone crazy

S: some really smart people think its real

S: psh. this stuff is wasted on u

M: probably.

M: thanks tho ;)

S: youre welcome…

M: can i have another look? did u see that face?

S: face? no face. just vats of ink

S: and no, that was my copy. i couldn’t send it u and keep it for myself too.

S: all gone now.

M: oh well

M: thanks, tho

“Fuck!” Amber said, out loud.

“Fuck,” agreed Emily.

Dryer had had the ITSA techs shut off Amber’s outside calling abilities through her personal watch, but Emily was able to tap into the darknet through the illegal one and get a call through to Robert’s personal line. Amber had her make a small wooden boat out on the sea near the beach–desktop. It rocked gently.

“Leave us for this one,” Amber said. “Please just make sure they’re not listening.”

“Natch,” she said. “I’ll say goodnight – shout if you want me back before I wake you up.”

“Night.”

“Night, boss.”

She sat and waited. Robert appeared suddenly and jumped forward to hug her. She surprised herself by bursting into tears.

“Christ,” he said, after she’d recovered. “Are you OK?”

“Not really,” Amber said. “Physically fine though, my skull got a bit fucked up but they fixed me. Nothing permanent.”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything. At first you were in hospital, but they wouldn’t let me come, and I thought – and then you were out but they wouldn’t let me talk to you. What the hell happened?”

“My promotion prospects are looking a bit bleak,” she said. “I got into an argument with my boss, disobeyed an order, bought a darknet watch, killed a local and a Chinese. Now I could be tried under local laws. Dryer’s throwing me to the wolves.”

“Oh god,” Robert said.

“Yep,” she said. “I’m stuck in my apartment now, until the investigation is done. They’ve got a drone sat on my window.”

He stood up. “I’m coming to get you.”

“You can’t. They – they’ve forbidden me from speaking to anyone.”

The fear on Robert’s face brought her own rushing back.

“While the investigation is on? How are you talking to me?”

“Darknet,” she said. “Dryer’s recommending I be forbidden from talking to anyone from ITSA, ever. I guess he found out about us.”

“No,” said Robert, and he sat down on the bench and put his face in his hands.

After a long time he raised his face again.

“What can I do?”

“Probably nothing,” she said quietly. He looked like he was about to cry, but he blinked several times and then leaned forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not a lost cause. We’ll figure it out.”

She kissed him, and then pulled away. “You at home?” she said.

He nodded and they kissed again, and lay down together, the boat making room for them.

All darknet watches were burners with a built–in lifespan to help protect anonymity: this one had had 60 days. There was less than a week left before it ran out. She spent some time with Robert, mainly talking and having sex, but used most of her waking hours to trawl through everything she could find about the signal. She looked for discussion about the pregnant girl, too, and tried without success to find another copy of the photo. Stingray hadn’t appeared online at all since he had sent her the photo.

She found an old discussion involving people who claimed to have seen the photo. There was much argument about the species of plant in the pot – apparently it looked a lot like
sorbus arranensis
, a plant native to a single island off Scotland called Arran. It fit what Stingray had said about the speech indicators of the message.

On the final day, with three hours to go before the watch would self–destruct, not having slept for over twenty–four hours, she came across a set of conspiracy theories. She found one she had never heard before. Its thesis was that the GSE itself was the result of an experimental ink/human foetus, and that to make ink of sufficient concentration and complexity to do that you would need thousands of litres of ink.

Amber dropped the watch, stunned. Suddenly, somehow, she was certain. The dark figure was a pregnant girl and she had a singularity inside her. She read everything she could, but found nothing more, only just remembering to send Robert a message saying goodbye before the timer ran out.

The next day she received a message from ITSA Internal Security stating that the investigation would be concluded within one week and she should prepare to leave her apartment, and potentially Nepal, at very short notice. Amber packed her small bag and waited to find out if she would face the death penalty.

“He’s scared. He invented this thing, and
it’s brilliant, and he knows it’s worth a lot, but he’s terrified he’s going to lose it or someone’s going to steal it. He doesn’t get that it’s not the invention really, however good your invention is that’s only a tiny part of it. It’s the business that matters, it’s how well you can monetise.”

Hardwick was sat in the office of his big empty house, the old–style landline resting on his shoulder. He rented the house remarkably cheaply from a contact he had made while running down his last property business. It was far too big for him but he liked the size, he liked being able to disappear into the house, even sleep in a different bed each night. When he got tired of the place he’d just call a number, end the contract and leave. He had enough money not to need long–term possessions.

“Yeah, is that the line you’ll sell him?” came the response. Ross had given Hardwick his first job at sixteen, and, although you couldn’t really teach the aggression that had made Hardwick successful, he had at least tried to teach Hardwick what he knew. They had had a fiery business relationship, but since parting ways, had kept in touch regularly, habitually by old–style calls where they couldn’t see each other’s faces. Hardwick still called him up for a business discussion whenever he felt in the grip of a dilemma. It was an unwritten rule that Ross would not share his own problems with Hardwick; it was a one–way relationship in that sense, but Hardwick hoped Ross enjoyed the mentor role.

“You’ll sell him that it’s your business expertise that’s the really valuable thing?” Ross said.

“Yeah, I will,” Hardwick replied. “You’re being sarcastic but I will tell him that because it’s true. What do you think will happen if he goes to the government? Yeah he’ll get a cushy job somewhere I guess, research at ITSA, decent salary. That’s if he was careful enough to keep it legal when he was building the thing, which I kind of doubt actually. They’ll probably just arrest him for illegal research and keep the tech for themselves. But if he can find a way to sell it or monetise it, he knows it’s worth millions, more. Hell, he could be a celebrity.”

“If it actually works, whatever it is. I think you’re being scammed by this kid.”

“It works. Trust me. I’ve got a good nose for this kind of thing.”

“And how long has it been since you met with him?”

“Two weeks. More than two weeks.”

“He’s not made contact since then? Since he basically humiliated you?”

“Nope.”

“Christ. You’ve blown it.”

“I have not. I made a mistake, I thought he was just a kid, I could go in all guns blazing and take it all. But he’s not. He’s genuine, he saw straight through me, and I should have tried to build a proper relationship with him.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

“Never. I want to work with him. He’s smart. We’d have a lot of complementary differences.”

“Hah. Differences is right.”

“And it’s such a big deal that it’s worth doing differently. Taking a few risks.”

“I still think it’s too late. Your relationship is in negative equity with him, now, it already was when he found out about the stuff you’ve done – “

“My successful, honest career –”

“Yeah, yeah, but from the kid’s perspective, your dishonest career. And then you went in all gung ho and made it even worse. You’re going to have to give him something real. You can’t fake your way here, it’s too late. You’ll have to sacrifice something.”

“I’ve already said. I’m willing to be fair with him.”

“Yeah. Well. I’ve don’t know why you bother calling me about this kind of stuff. I don’t think you’ve ever listened to me.”

“Yeah, maybe, but then I’ve never been wrong, have I?”

“You’re wrong all the time!” Ross said.

“But if I’m wrong I make it work anyway, don’t I? Whatever happens I make it work, somehow. I don’t call you to ask you to make my decisions for me. I call you to make sure I’ve thought about everything and to get a different perspective that will help me when I implement. And trust me, these calls are very very helpful in that regard. It’s like pre–negotiation for me, a warm–up. And you’re almost always smarter than the people I’m negotiating with anyway, so by the time I get to them I’ve already won.”