Senescence (Jezebel's Ladder Book 5) (15 page)

Early the next morning,
Laura’s head ached from the hangover, but her nails looked fabulous. The roar
of the jet was hellish. Worse, Stu broadcast a migraine to any Collective
Unconscious talent standing within a few meters, so she couldn’t get close to
him without amplifying her misery. Laura sat by Artemis to quiz her about Stu’s
activities the day before.

The
huntress admitted, “Sure, Stu came to my beach party. He spent all of his time
with one girl, though. He went up to one of the bedrooms with her and sent the
bodyguard out.”

The
thought of another woman with Stu made Laura furious, and the increased blood
pressure aggravated her headache. To add salt to the wound, Artemis munched
noisily on a bag of Cricket Crunchies for most of the flight and generally
prevented Laura from taking a nap.

During
the chaos of landing, Evangeline eventually took pity on Laura. “Stu came to
the house to see
me
as a nurse. I can’t tell you what his problem is,
but I can tell you Stu didn’t stand you up on purpose yesterday.”

“That
helps. Thanks. Why was Artemis so horrible to me?”

“Grant
hinted you were blackmailing him. As a lesbian who lost her military career, my
girlfriend doesn’t like that kind of thing.”

As
Hans strode down the stairs onto the prince’s private airfield, he announced to
the team, “Remember, the prince has one rule for his guests: no cameras. I have
one rule to add: nobody complains about his country stoning women who report
rapes instead of imprisoning the perp. For the first time, thanks to Stu, we
have access to a strict, Muslim country.” Hans gave the two paid camera
operators the morning off and made a production of patting down each crew
member to divest them of personal recording devices.

Kaguya
remained on the plane to avoid Stu and Laura.

Walking
onto the airstrip in the desert sun, even with sunglasses, made Laura want to
vomit. She climbed onto a monorail with the rest of the crew, noting four
guards with machine guns in this car and more in the next.

A
distinguished fifty, the prince wore a conductor’s outfit with white gloves and
a silk pageant banner across the chest. From the driver’s seat of the train,
the prince announced, “This vehicle, like my entire estate, is solar powered. We
sell the excess energy to neighboring countries. Even beyond the petroleum age,
my country demonstrates leadership.”

He
shook hands with Hans and Stu, beaming with pride.

“He
dresses like Michael Jackson,” whispered Artemis.

The
prince asked, “Pardon?”

Sif
covered. “She’s impressed and wants to see your solar collectors.”

“First,
we will see my stables and my zoo. We house animals close to the airstrip
because some of them are too big to fit in one of these cars.”

The
monorail hummed a few hundred meters to a ring of barns around a lush, green
oasis. “All the animals here are natives of warm climates. No polar bears. That
would be cruel.” He led them through his stables, giving the history and
lineage of each horse. “On my racetrack I allow no whips and no steroids.
Horses are never forced to run in pain. Such inhumanity is against the law in
our kingdom.”

“Unless
you have tits,” whispered Artemis.

Laura
couldn’t fault the sentiment.

This
time Stu covered the indiscretion. “The US should have these regulations. I
heard most of their tracks closed because of abuses.”

The
prince lectured on the decline of American racing as they rode a smaller tram
through the tiny oasis zoo.
He has a thing about trains
.

Stu
jumped off the tram to pet an elephant, startling everyone. Laura opened her
mental awareness for an instant to gauge the reaction of the giant. She put an
arm out to stop the huntresses from intervening. “It’s okay. The elephants are
just as curious about him.”

“I
rescued this family of three elephants from poachers attempting to transport
the animals through our ports,” the prince said. “They have made their home
here. Simba there is particularly fond of the dogs.”

“I’ve
heard that poor people kill them for their tusks,” Stu said.

“It
is the same all over,” Sif said. “In my country, one snow leopard pelt will
feed a family of four for their lifetime.”

The
prince raised a finger. “Nobody in my kingdom is poor or in need of food.”

“But
you buy pelts and endangered animals,” Artemis countered.

Stu
intervened. “What about trash dumps? Dad said those should have buried half the
planet by now.”

“Ahh,”
said the prince. “Our workers sort out the recyclables, and the rest of the
rubbish we use to transform the uninhabitable regions. Back to the monorail,
and I will show you.”

“What
are the uninhabitable regions?” Stu asked.

Onesemo
explained as they walked back to the train. “Deserts have been growing so quickly
that UN aid organizations started restricting where people can build. A lot of
regions just aren’t sustainable for large populations. For example, if
someplace doesn’t have water or shelter from storms, it becomes uninsurable and
doesn’t qualify for foreign relief. Some towns in Tornado Alley in Texas had
been wiped out four times before they were removed from the maps.”

“Nobody
lives there?” Stu asked in disbelief.

“Some
crackpots, but they have to supply power and water for themselves. Depending on
natural resources and distance from transit corridors, some locations aren’t
suited for large populations. The power and road companies can’t justify the
expense to go there.”

Once
on the air-conditioned train, they rode a distance out into the desert. A huge
dumping ground filled a trench. Behind the trash heap, solar panels stretched
along the desert floor in a huge bowl shape. A partial-glass geodesic dome,
like a football stadium, protected the solar collectors from the elements. She
thought she could see strands of color like army ants pouring off the trash
heaps.

The
prince gestured. “Behold, nanobots change sand and garbage into our future. In
the last step, we take the dross that the nanobots cannot consume, melt it with
the excess energy, and use it to line the railway beds.”

Stu
admired the scene. “How far does this go?”

“The
railway extends from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea.”

“I
meant the band of solar collectors.”

“So
did I,” said the prince with a smile. “The railway was a tool in its
construction.”

“That
must have cost a fortune.”

The
prince grinned. “My people flourish, and so do all those who trade with us.”

A hint that the Saudis want an advance on Magi technology?

As
they streaked past another valley, Laura saw a familiar pattern in the sculpted
silicon, almost like DNA.
This is more than just solar power. They’re
building a computer.
Once constructed, the machine could repair itself to
an extent. Her grandfather must have sold them the plans for Koku. If that
counted as reproducing, the program could be considered alive. The AI program
was built on the Mind-Machine interface and Magi resource-analysis techniques
for a society. The original goal was that any closed system could be reduced to
components like labor, water, metals, and energy. That model could then be
optimized or predicted. Whenever two Magi technologies were combined, the
result was greater than the sum of the parts.

Mori
used his four-story computer to run his half-million employee mega-corporation.
The Saudi kingdom had a population of seventy-five million, a hundred if you
counted temporary workers. A computer to run that analysis would need to be
eight hundred stories tall … or flat and over eight hundred hectares long.
Good
God.

The
Saudis must be using her grandfather’s tyrannical management techniques to help
increase their wealth and run their kingdom. Already, about ninety thousand
people held the reins for the majority of the wealth on the planet. Using Koku
would concentrate control even further.
The same program that’s been
tracking me for weeks.
She hid behind Sif with the irrational theory that
the supercomputer wouldn’t be able to see her.

Stu
asked, “Can I look more closely?”

The
prince slowed the train to a halt.

Onesemo
put an arm out to hold Stu back from the door. “Nanobots are nasty stuff, sir.
I lost five men and a lot of skin to a project like that. The wind sometimes
blows them past the safeguards. Men dissolve just as easily as garbage.”

“That
thing on the backside of the moon?” Stu asked.

Mo
nodded curtly.

Another Koku on the moon? Holy crap! What was Grandfather thinking?

Suddenly,
an ear-splitting siren filled the car. “Camera!” the prince shouted. “Someone
has betrayed me. Search them all.”

Out
of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Sif blanch and discard a small disc the
size of a bottle cap. Just as quickly, Grant scooped up the item. “My fault,
sir. I thought I had the recorder disabled. It’s voice-activated and turns on
when of our cast members—”

“Silence.”
A guard seized Grant from behind, and another slammed him in the gut.

“Who
are you spying for?” the prince demanded.

“It’s
just my personal log. I need it for protection. Ask anyone who watches the
show.”

“We
don’t allow your filth in my kingdom.”

A
guard swept a security wand over Grant, located the poker chip camera in his
hand, and passed it to his employer. The prince nodded. “My technicians will
tell me who made this while you wait in a cell. If you confess, the sentence
will be lighter. The rest of you: your tour is cancelled. Leave my kingdom
immediately. A fighter escort will be provided.”

Guards
hauled Grant to the back car.

No
one dared to speak on the return to the plane. When Laura arrived at the
aircraft, other guards were pillaging it, removing every piece of recording and
transmitting equipment aboard except the plane’s radio and guidance systems.
Hans was livid. “Those are expensive cameras! Some of them were custom-made.”

“They
will be returned in a few weeks, after they have been thoroughly searched for
evidence,” replied the head guard.

Hans
opened his mouth to protest further, but Laura pulled him aside. “You uploaded
everything on them in Haifa. Equipment can be replaced. You’ll tell your side
to the rest of the world. Until we get somewhere with free press, let it go.”

Once
the door to the plane closed and Nemesis swept for bugs, the team gathered in the
conference room. Disconnected cables dangled from holes in the wall.

Stu
said, “I can pay for everything if we land someplace that has access to Fortune
funds and tech. Brazil?”

Hans
chewed an aspirin dry. “We have no choice. We’ve already done a promo using
footage from the Saudi STEM school. The Brazil girls’ school can substitute,
and they may have some equipment we can borrow.” He pointed at Sif. “You knew
what the rules were. Why did you do it?”

Lowering
her eyes, Sif said, “The Ministry of State Security reminded me of my duties to
the people.” Laura recognized the euphemism. Sif still had family somewhere in
mainland China, possibly guilty of misconduct or attending a seditious meeting.

Did the Chinese want Koku, too?
Laura shuddered.
How big would that computer need to be?

“I
had already erased the evidence. All Grant had to do was keep his mouth shut. Why
did he take the blame?” Sif hugged herself in grief.

“Because
he loves you, moron,” Laura replied.

Half
the crew reacted like Laura had farted publicly. Sif, however, paled with
shock. “They’re going to torture him because he wanted to save me?”

“Most
likely, but he’s the one who told us what the consequences would be in the
briefing,” Hans said, grimly.

Sif
collapsed into a chair. “Why didn’t he tell me how he felt?”

Artemis
cleared her throat. “Aside from what you called him almost every episode? Everyone
knew your opinions on mixed marriages. When your brother married a Burmese
woman from work, you practically disowned him.”

“That
was my parents. Besides, they call it Myanmar now.”

Laura
shrugged. “Countries are just an abstraction. You can’t see them from space.
With advances in genetic engineering, the racial boundaries are blurred as
well. As much as they fight, the Koreans and Japanese have the same bloodlines.
Eventually, we’ll accept that we’re all just human.”

The
others stared at her for the unexpected philosophical tidbit.

“How
did you all know before I did?” asked Sif.

Hans
snorted. “Even the fans knew he stayed here to write your scripts, even after
he won those awards. He did it to hear your voice reading his words. He told me
that intelligent debate with you was better than sex with another woman.”