The Gabble and Other Stories (32 page)

He staggered back and fell at the feet of the encysted choudapt, Tarin. Simoz now turned and fired twice, splashing luminous blood up the walls. He tossed a shock grenade out into an encroaching wall of chitinous legs, glowing bodies, and hints of armour. The wall fell in chaos and he counted the last two grenades in his pocket. Then he turned, walked forward and stepped over the dead choudapt to look into Tarin’s eyes. There was a ripping sound as Tarin opened his crusted lips.

‘No win . . . Earther,’ he said, spittle running from the side of his mouth.

Knock once for yes and twice for no. Are you hearing this, Mike?

Simoz’s stomach muscles clenched twice and he grinned at his doctor mycelium’s little joke.

You have to go in, Mike, and take over. This was always a possibility: you have to leave
me even if that means you leave me to die.

There was a long pause then his stomach muscles clenched once.

‘I always win,’ said Simoz.

The choudapt Tarin opened his mouth to make some reply. Simoz didn’t wait for it. He slammed his hand over that crusted mouth.

Goodbye, Mike,
he managed before his legs went numb and the sight faded from his eyes. As he fell he could feel his hand bonded to the choudapt’s mouth. The thin-gun fell from the numb fingers of his other hand before a pool of blackness filled his skull.

…

Simoz.

…

Simoz.

<>

* * * *

“Good morning Mr Chel,” said the two and a half metre tall two hundred kilo monster who worked as security guard for Darkander. I gave Jane a look of long-suffering and stood still while I was scanned for comlinks or any of the other equipment Darkander considered an unfair advantage.

“You are clean, Mr Chel.”

My chip card was next and the monster took it from me between a finger and thumb like the grab on a cometary mining ship. After a moment he returned it.

“Your credit is good, Mr Chel.”

After she too had been checked out Jane joined me. I smiled mild approval at her cool.

“Is it always like that?” she asked, tucking her card into one of the many pockets of her coverall.

“Always. No extra information access. No comlinks and no AIs. Darkander is very strict about it.”

“Isn’t that a bit discriminating?”

“Some free AIs once took him to court on those grounds. They lost out on a protection of antiquities law about two centuries old. He then pointed out to them that should they bring another action and win he would be forced to close down. They left him alone. Anyway, what do you think?”

Darkander’s is an anachronism. It is a huge scan-shielded warehouse where all manner of items are stacked haphazardly and sold by lot. There is no computer bidding, no microsecond business transactions. Starting from lot one everything comes under Darkander’s wooden hammer. It is a place for human experts with a relish for competition, an eye for bargains and deals, and a dislike of paying taxes. People like Jason Chel. Me.

“Now, I’m not going to point anything out to you, as I’m often watched. Anything that takes your interest mark on the list, then come back to me when you’ve finished. I’ll tell you how high to go.”

Jane smiled then swayed off amongst the chaos of goods. As I watched her go I felt a degree of discomfort. I’d promised her this visit some time ago, when I’d been drunk, and had since tried very hard to get out of it. Well, now she was here. Hopefully she wouldn’t cause too much harm. I slowly followed her in and allowed my gaze to wander casually to the objects I was after. There was a box of what looked like pre-runcible tiles, probably from the belly of a shuttle, a Thakework sculpture of Orbonnai skulls, something that looked like the shell of a mollusc — I hadn’t a clue what it was, but was prepared to risk a few credits on it — and finally there was the Golem Six android, which after my cursory inspection the day before I felt sure had the mind of a three or four. This last item was the one I really wanted. Made before the twenty third revision of the Turing test these Golem were much in demand. Of course, now the auction was starting I did not look too closely at it, I instead showed a great deal of interest in some chainglass blades which were quite obviously faked to look like Tenkian’s.

The bidding started off with the usual lack of alacrity as Jane rejoined me.

“Let me see,” I took the note screen from her and studied the items she had marked. To my annoyance I noted she had marked the tiles. “I think we’ll have a cup of coffee. These — “ I tapped the stylus against the lot number of the tiles. “Won’t be up for a while, and they are the first on your... list.”

I had decided to be generous.

We sat sipping our way through a cup of coffee each as the auction progressed. At the lot before the tiles we sauntered out. As soon as this was sold we moved into Darkander’s view. The short bald-headed man who was reputed to be a multimillionaire flicked a glance in my direction and tried to start the bidding at five hundred. I caught hold of Jane’s arm before she could raise it. The figure Darkander suggested dropped in fifties until it was fifty, then started to rise again in twenty fives. Jane began to bid and as she did so I looked to see who she was bidding against.

When the figure reached four twenty-five I nudged her.

“Drop it.”

“Why?”

“You’re out of your league here and that’s about all they’re worth.”

The bidding continued to the figure of five seventy-five.

“See the fat little guy over there...” Jane nodded. “He’s the agent for the Ganymede runcible AI. It probably wants to give its containment sphere that old-world look.”

The mollusc shell was next but no one made a bid. It went into the next lot which appeared to be a collection of all sorts of junk, but I’d seen a really old digital watch lying in there and not expected a chance at it. I swore to myself for not going for the shell straight away.

I just wasn’t paying attention. On this next lot the bidding was tried at fifty then dropped to ten.

No one went for it so I gave Darkander the nod. “Going once,” he told me. “Going twice.” I couldn’t believe it. I saw the runcible agent glance at me suspiciously and begin to raise his hand. He was too late. The hammer went down. “Sold to Mr Chel.” I managed to keep a straight face.

“Good?” Jane asked.

“Yes, very good... I think.”

The Thrakework sculpture went to the woman in black. She’d always had a taste for the macabre. I bid against her a couple of times, but when I saw that wild look come into her eyes I gave up. I knew her of old.

There was half an hour before the Golem was to come up for auction, so with a nod to the lady — she didn’t see, she was fumbling with her death’s head charm and staring at the sculpture with a horrible avidity — I went to authorize the credit transfer for my buy, and leaving Jane to her own devices, took the boxes out to my Ford AGV.

The mollusc shell was interesting. I noted that the box it came in had the same shipment marks, stamps, and tape, as the packing strewn about the Golem. This told me no more than that they’d come from the same world. I wanted some hint as to value. I did not relish the prospect of initiating a computer search to identify this shell. Life, in its unbelievable abundance in the fifth of the galaxy thus far explored, had often used this sensible method of self-preservation. There were probably more types of shell than excuses for taxation. I put the shell aside and opened the other box.

Most of the contents of this box I could justify the price paid with resale through my shop, but no more. The digital watch was a dog. The case and the strap, which I thought to be ceramal greyed with age, turned out to be one of the later matt ceramals. There was nothing inside the case. I swore and was about to sling the box to the front of the van compartment when something caught my eye.

It was a bracelet set with jewels. The jewels were manufactured diamonds and therefore of little value. It was cheap costume jewelry, yet something gave me pause. Something wrong with it... I glanced back into the auction room and saw that it would soon be the Golem’s turn. I’d have to find out later. In a rather distracted mood I returned, after another scanning, to Jane’s side in the auction room, and bid two hundred over the odds for the Golem. Only as Jane and I were leaving did I notice the desperate gaze of a late arrival.

Chaplin Grable is the kind of man you learn to avoid at Darkander’s, the kind of man who’ll sidle up beside you and start asking the kind of questions you really don’t want to answer if you’re after anything in particular. Then, he’ll give you his jaundiced opinion on various objects in the warehouse, and sidle away. After he’s gone you feel the immediate urge to check your pockets, your credit rating, then go home for a shower. That day he stuck to me like a piece of dog shit on an instep.

“Look, all I want is a copy, downloaded copy, it’s easy money.”

I glanced towards Jane who was then involved in bidding for an arty looking mobile made from genuine fossil-fuel-based plastic, if the label was to be believed. I felt a certain relief that she was not at my side then.

“How much?”

“Four hundred, that’s fair. I’ll use all my own stuff. It’s easy — “

I was curious.

“A thousand.”

“Oh come on, for that piece of junk? I only want it for the Historical Society. Six hundred.”

“Funny, I thought I said a thousand.”

“Seven fifty. That’s it, easy, final offer, no more, capiche capoot.”

“Not interested.”

Of course I was, very interested, but if there was good money to be made here I intended to make it, not to pass it on to this slime bag.

“Okay okay, a thousand, done, a thousand.”

“Go away,” I told him. Then I saw something in his expression I didn’t like at all, something incongruous. I turned away and headed for my AGV with the android walking along behind me.

“A thousand is a lot,” it said.

“It is.”

I inspected it contemplatively. But for the loss of the syntheflesh covering of one side of its face and one arm it might well have been human. Many of its kind had since been accepted as such. It was just an unfair quirk of the law that defined this one as a machine and later models as sentient creatures.

“What’s your name?” I asked it.

“Paul G6B33.”

“Why do you think he’s interested in your memory, Paul?”

“I do not know. I have no long term memory other than Cybercorp contract and base program.”

Grable had obviously loused. There was nothing of value in this android’s mind. I should have sold him a copy. Too late now.

“Get in the back of the AGV, Paul.”

My android obeyed me.

* * * *

The Tenkian autogun followed with its impeller humming like an AC transformer and its turret turning with martinet vigilance. A couple of lice came out from the rocks behind but it did not fire. They did not come into the shifting perimeter. They stayed to feed on the remains of their fellows, their mandibles clacking with relish.

I had a hell of a time with the crate. I slipped once and grazed my knee, then sat on a wet rock, swearing, with water soaking into the bum of my trousers. I could open the crate and maybe its contents would follow me as obediently as Paul G6B33, if its power pack wasn’t down.

Finally I abandoned it in a suitable crevice weighed down with crusted rocks, then I moved on.

The world-tide is coming with the rise of Scylla’s binary companion and I have to prepare myself.

I don’t like to think about how.

* * * *

After taking the precaution of dropping Jane off at her residence — I didn’t want her with me where I was going next — I took Paul straight to a prospective buyer. There was the usual jam up at the atmosphere lock and it took two hours before we were out of the city dome and cruising into the outlands. Paul had remained silent until we were speeding towards the distinctly curved horizon over the landscape of yellow ice-cliffs and weirdly phosphorescent mists.

“What place is this?” he asked with idiot precision.

I pointed out of the screen.

“I’ll suppose I could give you a total of twelve guesses, but no, you only get three.”

He looked out of the screen at the massive loom of Jupiter filling half the sky, its red eye-storm gazing down at us speculatively.

“We are on one of Jupiter’s moons,” he said. I decided he definitely had the mind of a three. A five never felt the need to state the obvious. But as far as antique value went a five was half the value of a three.

“Yes, but can you figure which moon?”

There was a long pause then the statement, “Ganymede.” If he’d got it wrong I would have been most surprised. Threes are not capable of guessing. If they do not have enough data to come to a conclusion they say so.

“Correct,” I told him, superfluously, and slowly began to bring the AGV down towards an expensive residence set in the face of a sulphur-crusted cliff. The lock of a garage opened for us and we were soon climbing out of the AGV to be greeted by the goddess. Why do I call Henara the goddess? Because that is precisely what she looks like; Aphrodite, Diana, some supernal woman. She is nearly two metres tall and has the kind of build that will leave a man with a hollow feeling in the region of his groin. She has long luxuriant hair and a face to leave sculptors and painters feeling inadequate.

“Jason, so glad to see you... and who is this?”

Her voice set bits of me vibrating I did not know existed. She was fantastic. The AI that designed her deserved some kind of award, if it hadn’t already got one. She was a Golem twenty-three, I think. Human beings are never that close to perfection, or apotheosis.

“This is Paul G6B33,” I said, making the introductions. “Paul, this is Henara Indomial, who I hope will soon be your new owner.”

Paul greeted her politely, and she led us into her home. In a few minutes I was sunk in a sofa, which was ridiculously luxurious, with a large scotch in my hand. Henara and I had an agreement that went back for ten years. She paid me a retainer so I would buy up any Golem that came up for auction at Darkander’s and offer it to her on a percentage basis. She was a free Golem and very very rich. The work of her endless life now was to make other Golem free. She bought them, upgraded then, and put them through the revised Turing test. Then she set them free.