Saga (6 page)

“Grand Vizier, attend Us in chamber seventeen.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

We like his efficiency. Acknowledge he was right to interrupt what seem now to have been frivolous musings. Foolish old coquette. We briskly walk to the elevator and take it to the office below.

He bows when he enters Our chambers. The violet tie clip is a nice touch; he holds a board in his hand to take notes. We walk back and forth while We think. Our faint reflection is visible in the luster of an oak panel. Pause a moment to uncrinkle the dress; black silk does so show lines from sitting, but what else? Straighten ruff, admire orange powder on fine aristocratic cheeks.

“One. The report of Communication-Assassination probe Ox9B45. Rejection. Data packet not trivial. Infection has occurred. Two. Destroy districts from 91a to 31f with three tactical nuclear strikes at 9 P.M. PST.” We need time to relocate a few people.”

“Majesty?”

He has dropped his board.

“Err.”

Tie no longer straight, tut-tut.

“My home, my children. My guild headquarters. They . . . they are inside that zone. What? Please repeat.”

Rage instantly swells in Our breast, and We shout. We should be capable of controlling Our voice, but this infection makes us furious.

“Destroy districts from 91a to 31f with three tactical nuclear strikes at 9 P.M. PST. Satellite Grimtooth is above the horizon at that time—but you know this. It is not the practicalities that cause your insubordination.”

“Oh, please don’t consider me insubordinate, ma’am.”

He bows.

“I’m concerned for the reaction of my guild if this strike occurs. And the waste. It’s a huge loss of lives, and resources.”

“The reaction of your guild?”

He said “if.” He is questioning Us. Moreover, We recall with a scowl that his guild has become pompous and irritating in recent months. We are incensed by the arrival of this dangerous anomaly and angry at the hesitation of the person who should be Our unswerving support. It is time in any case to purge Ancient Honor from the High Council. We shoot him through the head.

“High Constable, attend us in chamber seventeen.”

“Right away, Your Majesty.”

This one will do better. A fop but no fool.

“Majesty?”

“On Our desk is a violet card in your name. Take it and enjoy the privileges that come with your promotion to Grand Vizier.”

He steps over the body.

“Your Majesty is too kind.”

“Ready? We are in a hurry.”

“Oh, I have been ready for this moment for ten years.”

“One. The report of Communication-Assassination probe Ox9B45. Rejection. Data packet not trivial. Infection has occurred. Two. The death of Our former Grand Vizier will cause unrest among his guild, Ancient Honor. Disband them and execute their leaders for treason.” Best to strike first, always. “Three. Destroy . . .” Former Vizier did make two good points. Wasteful, not efficient. “Three. Appraise yourself of the infection problem. Offer advice. You have three minutes.”

View of the City is less impressive from here than from Our suite. Nevertheless We would regret turning part of it into a nuclear waste and hope that new Grand Vizier has a better solution. Two minutes and forty-four seconds later, he speaks.

“Somehow the human being has an independent and illegitimate form, a survival of a data packet from its previous computer host, Epic. So kill it. The replacement form created by the human almost certainly would not be anomalous as it would be a fresh creation and not the legacy of Epic.”

We sigh, a slight tinge of disappointment in Our voice. “Continue.”

“It strikes me that her appearance and vivacity are extraordinary. She is probably the most beautiful of all the human beings who have arrived here.”

We examine the data as he speaks. He is correct.

“I have no knowledge of human psychology, but if it bears any relationship to their legends, a young woman of such striking looks would be drawn to a large social event of her peers like Narcissus to his reflection.”

“You have Our interest. Please continue.”

“Well, to be candid, Your Highness, I’ve nearly reached the limit of my thought. I merely add this for your consideration. A large-scale, anonymous mass extinction might fail due to her not being present in our environment at the correct moment. Whereas if an assassin were able to confront her individually, at an event at which we have anticipated her presence, we could be sure our goal had been achieved.”

“We are pleased.”

He bows, a faint smile on his eager lips.

“With this proviso,” We continue, “an uncontrolled, fully autonomous outsider cannot be tolerated for any length of time. There is enough instability in the world as it is. Additionally she represents a personal violation. We feel as though Our body is crawling with lice. You have a week.”

“Understood.”

We contemplate him, and he looks back, proud and only a little afraid.

“Will that be all, Majesty?”

“Yes. No. One more thing. Have that body removed.”

He bows again and leaves.

We like him; perhaps We should have promoted him earlier.

Leaning back in Our seat, We peruse the new data arising from Our hundreds of thousands of interactions. Satisfactory, if spoiled by the knowledge of the rogue anomaly. In the distance, We feel hundreds more of the new human beings arriving by the minute. Their lure is too attractive. We interact, caress them with chemical feedback, reward their involvement in Our world, the world of Saga. There is a fierce, sensual, and succulent intimacy to be enjoyed by running your fingers through the glial and nerve cells of another mind. We cackle as We play, flitting randomly from one human to the next as Our impulses take us. It feels as though Our body is wrapped in living gray jelly.

 

Later. Fifty-two thousand, five hundred, and twelve delicious seconds later, We get up from Our seat.

“Bath.”

By the time We have ascended back to Our private chambers and to Our bathing area, the pool is full of water heated to the exact temperature of 37.6° C. Above Us, the glass roof has steam on it, obscuring the stars, but that will pass. We dislike Our naked body. It is emaciated, wrinkled like stale fruit. It would smell but for the scents of Our bath. Perhaps We should exercise it? Too late—two thousand years of wear cannot be reversed. Conclude that We are, in fact, in rather good condition, considering.

Ahhh. We float, head back on a neck rest. We turn off the lights from the adjacent skyscrapers to improve the view of the stars. Contemplation. Pleasant at first, still glowing with the freshness of engaging with other minds. Tens of thousands of other minds. Minds that can be altered over vast distances of space. These organic forms have brains capable of producing chemicals that can drown their own bodies in ecstasy. With the lightest of touches, We cause the release of just enough trynorphin and styride benzine that their bodies cry for more. Stronger than any pleasure they have experienced before, it will mean that they will not be able to stay away. They must return to Saga for more or they will die. The chemicals from their brains enslave their bodies. But the brain is then hostage to the addiction of the body. How can Homo sapiens be so badly designed?

For a very long time, We thought that We were the only being in the vastness of the meta-world, the universe outside Saga; that the humans of Earth were all dead. Now We are connected again with millions of beings, chattering, thinking, philosophizing, and acting. And, oh the delight of it, so many of them already under Our control. None yet aware that gliding through the crowds is a Dark Queen, centuries old, caressing their fresh minds with Her ancient poisonous fingers.

A long day of pleasure. And a mere fraction tasted. The vast numbers of human beings in Saga arouse Us again, but for the moment We need rest. Twenty years to build the probes. Eighteen more years before We knew if they had done their job. A little over a day since We learned that life did still exist on New Earth and that We could interpenetrate it.

Humor suddenly spoils. Like a birthday party in which We were not let to win the games. Review again the rogue-outsider scene, going carefully through the recording. Several features of the incident continue to disturb. What chemical could render the police unconscious so quickly? Some type of aldehyde? Freon 150? No traces. Extremely anomalous. She waves cheerfully to the camera. Arrogant whelp. What of prisoners? The children? The black girl talking to the being from Epic and pointing at the camera? Anarchists of the serious kind or simply posturing?

Intensely dissatisfied, We no longer take pleasure from Our bath. Our body feels as though tiny insects are crawling through it, breeding and feeding upon Us. New Grand Vizier is competent, probability of infection elimination high. If not, loss of part of the City is a small price to pay for peace of Our minds. Third option. Always create a third option.

 

Message to Agent Michelotto:
Examine attached recording; locate all persons shown; bring them to Us for interview.

Once we were
clear of the jail, a reaction set in; perhaps it was the adrenaline wearing off, but none of us spoke. For my part, I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, privately to filter my memories: the horror of being captured, the bizarre manner of our release, the sudden disappearance of our rescuer. My priority was a dark, safe corner to lie in.

On freshly purchased airboards, we hurried through the City, favoring shadows and dark streets. All of us felt the loss of our favorite boards, but none more so than me. The uphit from this lump of white plastic was only half that of my old, customized board. At Turner Square, we made an effort to slow down, to meander as though without a goal. Only when we were completely sure no police were in the vicinity did we ride up to the cover of the billboard and swerve into our den. Except that it felt no longer secure, no longer ours. The jungle on the walls had ceased to be a realm of freedom. The vines hemmed us in now, offering concealment to watching eyes.

“What are you doing, Ghost?” asked Nathan.

“Packing.”

“Why?”

“My skin is crawling. This place isn’t safe for us.”

“I agree.” Athena had lost a contact in a struggle with cops at the mall, and she had on a pair of blue-framed glasses that were slightly too big, which she had to push back up her nose regularly.

Milan blew out a long sigh. “What are we going to do now? I don’t suppose we can just carry on and hope this will all go away?”

“No. The way I see it, we have two choices: Go underground, learn to live outside the system, the way that Ghost does. Or hand ourselves in.” Athena took a long look at each of us from over the top of her glasses. “And I’m going underground.”

That was fine by me.

“Where will we live? What will we do?” Carter was bewildered by the situation, a chubby lost boy. Whereas Milan looked older and tougher than two days ago, when we had last gathered here. Such innocents then.

“We’ll live on our wits. We’ll do hoists and stuff. Go to parties and gigs, and the girls will love us.” Milan was tossing and catching a can of slogans, waving it around with enthusiasm.

“Board pirates. Yeah, I can see it now. Nath, you got a new line of tags and board tattoos ahead of you. A pirate theme.”

For a moment, a smile softened the frown of worry on Nathan’s face.

“Anyway, what else is there? Work forty years in a factory in the hope of making orange before you retire? Come on, we were never going to do that.” Milan was getting quite excited now. His army vest didn’t cover much of his strong torso, and once again, I admired the perma-tats on his arms and pecs as he gestured.

“I just wish we could turn back time, you know.” Carter was glum. “Stupid mall raids.”

“What I don’t understand is where the cops came from. And the chopper with the HERF pulse bomb?” Nathan scowled.

“It was going fine. But you had no warning, right, Athena?”

“Right. Either green malls have some kind of permanent security that doesn’t show up on any schematic . . .”

“Or they knew we were coming,” I completed the idea.

Carter snorted. “Don’t be stupid. Even we didn’t know we were coming.”

“One of us did.”

“Jay?” Carter looked up, hurt. “No. Why would he?”

I shrugged. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I couldn’t answer Carter’s question. What did Jay gain from getting us all busted? Nothing that I could see. But was it a coincidence that he seemed to have escaped arrest?

“So, what’s the plan?” Milan looked at me. “You got a place we can go?”

“Several. But first you all have to decide. I’m not taking anyone who is going to back out later. If you come with me now, you can’t go home again so long as the authorities are looking for us. If you come, there’s no turning back. That’s all over.”

“I’m in.” Athena spoke softly but determinedly.

“Me, too,” added Milan.

“And me.” Nathan surprised me. Part of me was glad; life was pleasanter with a bit of kindness around you. But the thief in me was worried. Was he tough enough to live outside the system? Would he change his mind at some point and want to go back? I’d met his parents; they were friendly, the kind of people I’d have wanted for mine.

“Are you sure, Nath?”

“I’m sure.” His blond bangs fell forward with the nod.

“Won’t your parents be worried?”

Nathan had this kind of shrug, where he ducked his head down slightly toward his right shoulder. It was rather cute. He gave it now, with a quick glance at me as he did so. “Yes. But I want to do this. I want to stay with you. I’ll cast them a message sometime”—he caught my frown—“from a fake account, of course.”