Beautiful Intelligence (23 page)

“But we do not know what they have built.”

“We know they use the latest quantum technology. We know they have built only one creation. Run a simulation to decide what nexus outcomes may occur. Use our software – nothing external. In this instance, I want to follow
my
ideas.”

“They will do everything they can to conceal the power of their device.”

“They may, but they cannot do everything, since that is impossible. I believe the character of the creation will leak out into the nexus. The nexus will then identify and interact with it. Remember, it is difficult to grasp the strangeness of Westerners since they are so random, so bizarre. Therefore we will not seek those things. We will seek manifestations of power alone.”

“Power?”

Aritomo nodded. “What would you do if you felt unlimited power inside you? Ignore it?”

“No, Mr Ichikawa!”

“The creation itself will reveal where it is. The human beings around it are nugatory – even Leonora, who has long since been bereft of relevant ideas.”

Pouncey prepared an elaborate plan to cover them while they drove the soltruck into the least damaged of the Haemorrhage Apts – the block with the ramp access underground and local cover in the form of birch and lime trees, not to mention huge shields of ivy. Another advantage – it was tipping with rain. Almost nobody on the streets.

From a nearby lo-market she bought a couple of detonators. From a different lo-market she bought an ex-army mine, which she crimped so that it would blow on a time fuse. Then she set up the mine in a local side-street and the detonators nearby. Everything had to be timed to perfection, but this was a deal she had made before; explosives and swift action.

03:45. Nobody in sight – at least, on the street. Pouncey signalled for the detonators to blow two streets down. She left it five minutes, saw two street bums running to see what the trouble was.

Then the main blast – four streets away. She waited five seconds. Nobody appeared. She drove the soltruck into the street off which the ramp led. Manfred leaped out to raise the section of greenery Pouncey had cut loose, then she drove in, down the ramp, Manfred following. Then they all got out of the soltruck to listen.

No pursuit, it seemed. No voices. Just rain beating down on concrete.

“Okay,” she told Manfred and Joanna, “you two get some sleep. I’ll be on look-out for the rest of the night. If anyone saw us drive in they’ll come explorin’, but I’ll catch ’em. If not, we’re safe anyway.”

“But the vehicle ramp,” Joanna said. “We will have to walk up and down it to get into the city–”

“Nah!” Pouncey said, leading them to the remains of a lift shaft. “I’ll rig up a rope ladder here. I already scouted out a concealed exit on the ground floor – upstairs, like. It’s covered by ivy and only overlooked by one dead apartment block. We’re as safe as I can make us.”

“Will we be able to stay here?” Manfred asked. “No more Hyperlinked?”

Pouncey shrugged. “Fingers crossed.”

Manfred turned to survey the car basement. “So,” he said, “this’ll be our home. Bit of a wreck.”

Pouncey shook her head. “I’ll do a full reccie of the apartments upstairs, find some nice ones. First thing to do is set up the soltruck and ramp for a quick escape.”

“You’ll point the truck at the ramp?”

Pouncey nodded. “I’ll park it about twenty metres away. I’ll set up a screen so the bis don’t walk out. But listen... I was thinkin’...”

Manfred turned to look at her. He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“You know that whistlin’ trick you got the bis to learn? Well, most of ’em learned... I think we could take that a stage further.”

“How so?”

“Treat ’em like kids. Give ’em rules. How about I find us some coloured ribbon, then we stick it to the walls, and, most important, across the ramp. Then try and train the bis not to cross the ribbon – like police tape, you know?”

Manfred nodded. “Damn good idea. Go for it.”

Pouncey smiled. “And I got more.”

“Covering them in the nexus?” Manfred asked.

“Yep. That’s our big unknown. For a while the sheer amount of info in the local nexus’ll cover us, but Aritomo will punch through that eventually. There’s a school nearby, right? I’m gonna set up a fake extra class of eight kids – special needs, you see? Give all these kids – our bis – proper ID. Bed the whole thing down into the nexus over a week or so. Don’t think even Aritomo Ichikawa will spot that one.”

Manfred nodded. “Above all, he’ll be looking for patterns. He knows something of my style, possibly he knows how and why I’m different to the AIteam. But, yeah... that’s a good one. Do it.”

“Will do, boss.”

“But Pouncey?”

“Yep?”

Manfred hesitated. “Don’t have all the fake kids arrive at school on the same day.”

“I already thought of that.”

He grinned. “Just checking.”

~

It was noon. Quite warm. Manfred placed his hands on his hips and surveyed his work. A strip of rainbow ribbon glued to the walls surrounded the bay in which they all stood: the three of them, the eight bis. The soltruck was in position, an awning attached to its rear for the bis to make a home in.

Manfred glanced at Joanna. “Reckon they’ll cross the tape?”

Joanna shrugged. “Not if we train them not to.”

Manfred shook his head. “Kids is wrong. On this score, we gotta treat them like dogs. Trainable, obedient.”

Joanna managed the ghost of a smile. “You are some father, eh?”

“Yeah. I am.”

So they watched while the uncaged bis explored their environment. Manfred went through the act of crossing the tape, allowing Joanna to pull him back. The bis observed. Then Manfred told Pouncey to cross the tape – he pulled her back. When she crossed over a second time, he asked Joanna to pull her back. An hour later, as expected, Orange, Violet and Blue approached the tape at the ramp; slow and deliberate movements, he noticed. Manfred inched closer. When Orange stepped over the tape he jumped forward, grabbed the bi and lifted it back over the tape. Blue tried to cross the tape: Manfred lifted it back. The trio looked at one another for a few moments, then walked away.

“I think we may have sorted that problem,” said Manfred.

“I’ll keep watch anyway,” Pouncey said. “Gonna make a wood barrier on the ramp that the soltruck could smash through in an emergency.”

“Another line of defence.”

“Another barrier for the bis. They’ll get the message.”

The day passed. Pouncey left them, clambering up the lift shaft using the rusting metal framework. She returned a couple of hours later with food, water and a solar heater.

“Not much use in this gloom,” Manfred said.

“I’ll rig it upstairs. We won’t be down here for long.”

Leaving Joanna to watch the bis, Manfred accompanied Pouncey into the apartment block. The upper levels were worst damaged – by ivy, by weathering, by decay – and here they stumbled across a few human skeletons. Also dogs and cats, and what looked like a horse skull. But lower down the damage was less, and three apartments, in the lee of the wind and rain, were passable. There was no power and the wallpaper was a mush of damp and fungus – mushrooms grew in the remains of the shower cubicle – but Pouncey thought they could make a home of them.

“Take some time to clear it though,” she mused. “I’ll have to buy disinfectant, anti-fungals, maybe a heater. Place needs dryin’ out, ’specially this linkin’ corridor.”

“But we could live here?”

“Aye. Reckon so.”

“One for me and Jo, one for you.”

“We’ll split the bis? Half each?”

Manfred considered. “Best to, I suppose. In case of emergencies.”

Pouncey turned to face him. “I’ll do my best, you know I will, but there’s always the hint of a chance, ’cos no security’s perfect. You have to aim for ninety nine point nine recurrin’.”

“Yeah.”

“Which I do. But this is different to Philly. Aritomo guessed we were there.”

Manfred snorted. “It’s not Aritomo I’m worried about, it’s his computers.”

Pouncey shrugged. “Fair point. I’ll let you know if I get an attack of the itchy fingers.”

“You do that. And if I tell you not to, ignore me.”

“You betcha.”

~

A week passed. The class of kids appeared at school. Pouncey remarked that the school didn’t know about this class because she’d linked it with school databases through the canteen software alone. If one of the lunch ladies noticed anything odd – extra IDs, extra mouths to feed – well, that would like as not be ignored. The school had five hundred on its roster, with half a dozen leaving every week and half a dozen joining. But that one link was all Pouncey needed to ghost extra data into the school: eight new kids, special needs, not in every day... here a d.o.b. list, here their parents, here their photos (skimmed from a database of dead kids in New York). Layer upon layer of concealment, making any bi activity in the nexus look natural. Pouncey explained that she’d given the kids nicknames, so she’d know which kid covered which bi: Orange was ginger haired, Red had Native American heritage, and so on. More importantly, the nexus itself would attach these eight kid labels to patterns of activity linked to any of the bis – following Pouncey’s lead. It would over time corral info patterns and attach IDs to them, like it did with every human being in the world. Problem solved. The only difference here was that the nexus didn’t realise the bis weren’t human.

“Nicely camouflaged,” Manfred said, impressed.

Pouncey nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be updatin’ our kids every other day – inventin’ problems, scams, parental issues. They’re special needs, after all. A month on, it’ll all look so normal not even Aritomo’s best computer’ll spot any unusual patterns.”

“Amen to that,” said Manfred. He glanced at the nearer bis. If they were interfacing with the nexus, as they suspected, that infantile, unfocussed, weird activity would be registered as kids’ stuff. It happened all over the world, and the nexus recognised it, labelling it
infantile/juvenile.

“We can use patterns noticed by the nexus to probe the bis,” he said.

“Indigo we know is hitched up to the nexus,” Pouncey replied. “The nexus’ll do most of our work for us. I’m watchin’ Kid Indigo in particular.”

Manfred nodded. He had already tried to analyse Indigo’s burgeoning nexus traces, but they made no sense.

He began to relax after a second week in which nothing bad happened. None of the local bums got wise to their hideout, the bis behaved and the fake class worked like a dream.

And then, late one afternoon, walking the street leading down to the apartment block, he noticed a man leaning against a tree.

The man noticed him.

Manfred tried not to stop, change the pace of step,
clock
the man, but it was impossible. He approached, looking down at the grease-spattered pavement. The man stepped out and said, “Good evening, Mr Klee. Not to worry. You safe.”

Manfred halted, stunned. He could not breathe.

“Dere much to speak of,” the man added.

Manfred recognised the face, the accent. This man was not in disguise. “You know me?” he whispered.

“You recognise me, surely?” came the reply.

The man was black, middle aged, weatherbeaten, shaven head. He wore a jet black greatcoat and poly trousers. When he grinned, his teeth gleamed white.

A warning went off in Manfred’s mind. “Not...”

“Yes. Dirk.”

Manfred span around, ready for attack, for men approaching, for the sight of a rifle.

Dirk placed a hand on his arm. “I been looking for you. You safe.”

“Safe?”

“Sure. I tell you all about it. Dere a lot to speak, you know?”

“But... we’re... visible in the nexus?”

“The BIteam? Sorta. I explain how to make better. And you might want my services. Interfaces?”

Manfred nodded. He felt numb. Interfaces, yes – he had wanted Dirk rather than Tsuneko when he put the BIteam together. Had the appearance of this man averted a disaster?

“Dirk, come with me,” he said. “Quickly! I can see you’re on our side.”

“One hundred percent,” Dirk replied.

They hurried down to the concealed entrance, then paused at the lift shaft inside the building, where Pouncey’s rope ladder swung. “She’ll shoot you if she sees you,” he said.

“Tell her first.”

Manfred nodded. He still felt numb. Kneeling down, he called out, “Pouncey? You hear me?”

No reply.

“Call again,” Dirk advised.

“Pouncey! Get yourself here. Damn quick!”

There came the sound of rustling below, and Manfred saw Orange and Blue. Then Pouncey’s face appeared. “What’s up?” she asked.

Manfred said, “Don’t panic.
Don’t
shoot.”

Pouncey raised her rifle, aiming it at him. “Why not?”

“We got company – good company. It’s okay. I’m not hostage – no guns. It’s Dirk!”

“Dirk?”

From behind him, Dirk said, “Mr Ngma, interface specialist. I tell you how to improve nexus security – freebie. It no problem.”

Pouncey looked confused. “I know, I know,” Manfred said, “but for god’s sake Pouncey, don’t
shoot.
”

Joanna appeared. “Dirk Ngma?”

“That you, Joanna?” Dirk said, leaning over the lift shaft.

Pouncey aimed her rifle at him. “Don’t shoot!” Manfred screeched.

“Shhh!” Pouncey said. “I wasn’t gonna. Just get the hell down here.”

They descended. Pouncey retreated and aimed her rifle at Dirk. “You’ve got some explainin’ to do,” she said.

Dirk spread his hands wide, then raised his arms in mock surrender. “I know you scared. Me too, coming here. It some deal.”

“You spotted us in the nexus?” Joanna asked. She looked horrified.

“I spot da children.”

Manfred glanced at Pouncey, then at Joanna. “Okay,” he said, “panic over, we all sit down, fix tea or coffee, put down the guns. Shit, if Dirk knows about the bis, Aritomo might know.”

“Dere little t’ing to tweak,” Dirk said. “It no biggie.”

“And then?”

Dirk grinned, pulled out a cheroot and lit it. “I interface man. AIteam not for me. Dere much to tell you. It amazing tale, you know?”