Creation Machine (31 page)

‘But I see there is nothing in our contract that requires you to answer.’ The presenter didn’t wait for a response, but looked down and consulted something in his lap. ‘You see, Mr Haas, there’s a lot going on. Let me see. Seven Carriers of various classes either leaving their bases or diverting from other duties, and they’re all heading for the Cordern. Obviously we don’t know how many craft they are carrying but if they are normally fitted out that would be over fifty Main Battle Units. Fifty, Mr Haas?’

Haas smiled. ‘Well, I leave that sort of detail to the experts. But I’m sure that what they are doing is proportionate to any situation . . .’

‘But what situation?’ The presenter turned towards the viewers. ‘In summary, we have something close to martial law, including abrupt appointment to the Government of industrial barons with deep pockets. We have a major tooling-up at the boundary of the Cordern. We are left speculating on the reasons why. The Speaker on Foreign Affairs – we didn’t have one until a few hours ago, but never mind – is unable to enlighten us. And now . . . just a moment.’ His eyes went glassy, then refocused. ‘Okay, this just in. The military tool-up is focusing on a single planet within the Cordern.’ He paused and raised his eyebrows, causing a few hundred grams of metalwork to climb towards his hairline. ‘Apparently it’s the most exclusive holiday planet in the Spin. Go figure, ladies, gentlemen, intermediates and others.’

The screen fuzzed out. Fleare looked at Muz. ‘Uh huh?’

‘Yeah.’ Muz bobbed in the air, making his beads rattle together. ‘Well, there’s something major going down in the smelly bit inside the Cordern. Your Daddy’s looking as relaxed as possible considering it’s probably brown uniform time. Fifty MBUs? Fleare, that’s twice as many as they used at any one time against the whole of Soc O. No wonder the news jerk was interested.’

Fleare stared into space for a moment, chewing her lip. Then she said: ‘That sim we were just in. Where you said about the Fortunate getting their hands on something really lethal?’

‘Yeah, the sim. That’s the other thing. The guy we made friends with, in there? Well, he got straightened out and we shoved him back into the same sim. He was veeeery smart, Fle. He found something. The trouble is, just when he found it, and before we saw what it was, he vanished. No trace. Someone – or something – just yanked him out of the sim, and then, if that wasn’t complicated enough, the whole sim shut down. The Moderator swears it had nothing to do with it, which means that something even smarter than it must have been involved, considering it’s supposed to be in charge.’

‘Uh huh. And suddenly my father is all worried? And is somehow in a position of power?’

‘So it seems.’

Fleare nodded to herself. She was bored with sitting on the floor; she tensed her muscles and sprang herself upright, daring her legs to hurt more. They did, but not enough to stop her. ‘I want to be there, Muz. Wherever there is.’

‘Okay. May one ask why, when you would be better off resting and recovering?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Because of Kelk. Because of Silthx. And because no fucking
way
does my father get to be President of the Universe or whatever. What else was Soc O about?’ She spread her arms, and then let them fall to her sides. ‘Besides, fuck recovering. I’m not going to recover, Muz. I know I’ve been ignoring it but someone with some intimate information decoded my mods and shot me full of the wrong answer, remember? I’m going to die. I’m going to fall apart and turn into a dribbling pile of shit and then I’m going to
die
.’ She paused, breathing hard. ‘So I might as well keep busy.’

‘I take it I can’t stop you?’

‘No!’ Fleare glared at him.

‘Fine. I didn’t think I could. There’s a clipper waiting.’

She blinked. ‘What, already?’

‘Well, obviously. Like I said, I didn’t think I could stop you.’

Her hands were trembling; she clamped them to her hips in what she hoped looked like defiance. ‘Good. But don’t get into the habit of second-guessing me.’

‘Oh, puh-lease. It wasn’t a second guess.’ The necklace dipped in the air and then floated towards the edge of the clearing. ‘It wasn’t even a first guess. Now, are you coming?’

She nodded, and followed the little entity.

Because
.

She hadn’t felt able to add, because of me. And because of you.

The clipper was much nicer than the waste can. She looked in through the airlock. ‘Wow. This is almost – sumptuous. And kind of unusual.’ She took in the heavily sculpted leather seats. Some of them had . . . projections. Quite functional-looking ones, if you liked certain things. She studied them carefully, and then turned back to Muz. ‘I didn’t think you were into this stuff. Where’d you get it?’

‘I’m not, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t. It’s a present from someone. There’s a message with it. Ready?’

There was something about his voice. He sounded almost diffident, and Fleare felt herself shiver slightly. ‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Okay. It’s just audio. Ah, it’s keyed personal.’

‘Really?’ Fleare raised her eyebrows. ‘Does that mean you have to go away while I listen?’

‘Yes. I’ll be back when it’s over.’

Fleare stared at him. Eventually she said, ‘Do you know who this ultra-secret message is from?’

‘Yeah, it’s from Jez.’ Now Muz sounded embarrassed. ‘Shit, Fle, it’s probably just private girl talk. What do I know? I’m starting it now. See you.’

There was a fleeting burst of white noise, then Fleare heard Jez’s voice, sounding a little flat as if she had been talking into her palm. ‘Hi, Fleare. Hope you’re still okay. Feel free to use the clipper as long as you need it. It’s pretty fast and it can look after itself, so if you need to go anywhere flaky you’re a bit less likely to get smeared out over the starscape. Sorry about the décor. It came from an ex, and believe me it wasn’t a long relationship.’

Jez paused, and Fleare had time to smile to herself. Then the voice went on, sounding more confidential, as if Jez had leaned in towards the mike. ‘Look, about all the mysterious stuff. I got some news on your problem. It’s not great but it may help, I’m not sure. After the war the Haas Corporation bought the full rights, patents, files, codes, everything, on the mods. They also seized all the records,
all
of them, from Soc O. Then they locked it down, like
really
restricted it, personal to Board level only. Rumour says it was agreed by your Daddy’s private secretary. That’s where the trail stops, if you’re outside the corporation. Or the family, maybe. So the woman who shot you? Unless she was a really accomplished thief she must have had inside help. I guess you know who that must mean. Sorry, Fle.’

Fleare nodded to herself.
No shit
, she thought.
The bastard must be really pissed at me
.

Jez was still speaking. ‘Oh, and one more thing? There’s a trace on the clipper. I’ll know where you are. So if you do anything really stupid, at least one person will be laughing.’ Jez paused again. ‘Look, you know what I mean. I’m no good at being serious. Take care of yourself, and think twice before you talk to anyone. Really, Fleare, anyone at all. Bye.’

The audio cut out. Fleare sat down on one of the non-projecting couches and stared at nothing for a while. When she looked up Muz was back. He was hanging in the air in front of her, swaying slightly from side to side. She frowned. ‘Why are you swinging?’

‘Huh? I didn’t realize I was. Distracted, I guess. What did Jez say?’

Fleare thought quickly. ‘She apologized for the furniture.’

‘Only that?’

She flashed him a sour grin. ‘That, and girl talk.’ She braced herself against the pain that was to come and stood up; her legs twinged. It seemed a little worse. ‘So, what’s this holiday resort planet called?’

‘The one where everyone’s gathering? Traspise.’

‘Yeah. Right. There. Let’s go.’

‘To do what?’

‘I don’t know! To get in the way, I guess.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘You don’t have to come.’

‘I am coming, though.’

She nodded. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. Leaving in ten minutes.’ He floated off.

Fleare waited until he was out of sight, and then sat down again carefully. She was trying to work out why she had included Muz in the category of ‘everybody’ that Jez thought she shouldn’t talk to. She was still trying without success when the clipper jumped slightly and the couch adjusted itself subtly around her. They were off.

She knew where. She had no idea what, but she was now a hundred per cent certain about why.

Recovered personality

The view is astonishing. I turn to the guy in the robes, who is apparently called Theo. He seems to think that’s funny, for some reason. ‘How high are we, did you say?’

‘Above the plains? Two kilometres.’

Two kilometres. Not two real kilometres, of course. I haven’t got a body to be real with, and neither, I am finding out, has Theo. When I said he was like me I had no idea how accurate I was.

We materialized, although that is utterly the wrong word, in something that feels like a cross between an observation platform, a spaceship bridge and the waiting room of a brothel. It’s a circular room with a narrow band of windows, which I think really are windows rather than screens, round the edge. The windows look out over a broad sweep of icy, misty desert which laps at the base of the mountain range we seem to be at the top of.

It is stunning. It’s also a very long way down. The primitive part of me that hasn’t understood this whole simulation business hopes the windows are made of something really strong.

I sit back on the fur-covered couch – that’s the brothel bit – and ask, ‘What happened?’

It’s a broad-brush kind of a question but Theo understands. ‘I shut down the sim.’ He shrugs, and waits.

Some people make you want to shudder. Simulation; the name is deceptive. Something artificial, something pretend. But that’s not right. Sims started out like that, but they didn’t stay like that. Processing power, speed, smart coding, all came together to the point where the intricacy of a life within a sim began to approach that of a life in the real world. And one day, inevitably, the curves crossed.

That was the day sim development was made illegal, but lots of things are illegal. It’s great for profit margins. So no one can be quite sure how much further things have gone, but while there is plenty of cash to build big server farms the simple answer will be
further
.

So shutting down a sim is the same as genocide, only mostly a lot quicker.

My face gives me away. Theo looks at me and shakes his head. ‘Please,’ he says. ‘I set the thing up. Don’t you think I can shut it down? And I kept the record. I could start it up again any time I liked.’

‘You set it up?’ This is getting beyond me. ‘Why?’

‘Would you believe, because I was bored? Anyway, I needed a place to stay.’

I raise my eyebrows and gesture round at the circular bachelor pad. He laughs. ‘This isn’t exactly mine. It more sort of
is
me.’

Now it’s my turn to shake my head. He looks at me and grins. ‘Okay, I’ll explain.’ He sits down on the furry couch a little way round from me, looks thoughtful for a moment, and then waves his hand at the floor in front of him. A section of it bulges upwards and grows into a low table covered in bottles and flasks and a big, ornate water pipe with two mouthpieces. He picks one up and holds it out towards me. ‘Smoke?’

I hesitate, and he waggles the mouthpiece. Coils of bluish smoke wisp out. ‘Go on. It’s probably good for you.’ He frowns slightly. ‘I’m sure I read that somewhere.’

I take the pipe. ‘Bad for you,’ I say. ‘It’s bad for you. Where have you been for the last fifty thousand years?’

‘Exactly! That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’ He picks up the other mouthpiece, sits back, takes a long pull that makes the water pipe bubble and talks through a stream of thick, sweet-smelling smoke. ‘Although it’s a bit more than fifty thousand years. I’m sort of original, you see.’ He looks at me, then down at his robes, and shakes his head. ‘Not the way you’re thinking, although I might be that as well. I meant more as in – origin.’ I must still look blank. He blows more smoke and adds: ‘You know? Like beginning?’

It feels as if a void the size of a gravity well has opened beneath me. I swallow. ‘Go on,’ I say.

He is silent for a moment. Then he looks straight at me. ‘I know what happened to you. You were born on Silthx. Your family were imprisoned by the Fortunate after the invasion. You were sent to a labour camp. You excavated – something.’ More smoke. He seems to need it. ‘Did anyone ever tell you what it was?’

‘Not exactly. Some kind of old artefact. Maybe powerful. Why?’

‘Powerful isn’t the half of it.’ He shakes his head. ‘What you, what
they
found was something very, very old, but that doesn’t matter because it’s pretty well immortal. It’s old enough to remember the creation of the Spin.’ He sighs. ‘To have taken part in it, in fact.’

Now it’s my turn to reach for a smoke. I don’t know if it will work, but I feel I need something. The smoke is thick and sweet, with a sharp sensation on my tongue like pins and needles. It is harsh on my palate. I cough, but it feels good. My voice is husky, though. So’s my brain, right now. ‘Creation? But that was, what . . .’

I trail off, and he nods again. ‘About a quarter of a million years ago. Yeah. I remember.’

‘You remember?’

‘Yes. I was there too.’ He falls silent. For a while so do I, but there’s something I want to ask. ‘You know what happened to me,’ I said. ‘What about . . . other people?’

‘By other people, do you mean your family?’

I nod.

‘All dead. I’m sorry.’

It shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, what am I? Not exactly alive. But still I feel my eyes stinging. I can see he has noticed. I don’t want him to. I look away. ‘So, this creation machine thing.’

‘Yes.’ He laughs quietly, although I’m not sure why. ‘This Creation Machine, then, to give it a name. It’s just a piece of construction equipment, really. But when you think that it was constructing planetary systems, you can understand the sort of forces it could throw about. Possibly still could, if it wanted to. If it was able to.’