Resonance (32 page)

Annalise Six didn't appear to hear. She was leaning against the corridor wall and staring into space.

"What is it?" asked Howard from inside the room.

"Another message," whispered Gary over his shoulder.

"But I thought she just . . ."

"Shhh!" said Gary.

Graham wondered if silence made any difference. It hadn't to Annalise Fifteen. She'd conversed quite happily as a tube train rattled and shook along the tracks. Concentration seemed to be the key—the ability to focus and blot out all extraneous sounds.

Annalise's expression changed. She shook her head. Her eyes flicked left and right, unfocused, unseeing. She looked blind and confused.

"Is this . . . normal?" Gary whispered to Graham.

Graham nodded. Emotions seemed more transparent during telepathic communication. He wondered why. Was she robbed of her ability to mask her feelings or overwhelmed by the emotional charge created by the telepathic link?

Annalise's face went slack. Her eyes refocused. She forced a nervous smile and wobbled slightly. Graham reached for her arm and held it.

"Are you all right?" asked Gary.

"Sure. I'm fine. Never better. Have you shown Graham the Census project logs yet?"

"What about the message?" asked Gary.

"Nothing important." She stepped in front of Gary and waited for him to let her pass. He paused, watching her intently before turning and letting her inside.

Graham listened as Howard explained how ParaDim had twenty black spheres placed throughout the world sucking down data at mind-boggling speeds. How the information was shared and processed and interpreted. How every ParaDim office was connected to this vast array of data. How specialist teams were dotted throughout the world, sifting through the material—analyzing, refining, passing back requests to search particular worlds or for specific topics.

"It's a huge iterative process," Howard explained. "We discover A, become interested in B, dig about for more data, find C. Someone else discovers D, which in turn throws more light upon A. And so on. It's like being in the middle of a huge forest fire. So many flames and sparks all around, each igniting and feeding off each other."

"How up to date's everything?" asked Annalise out of the blue. It was the first time she'd spoken since walking into the room. "Twenty spheres are going to have a hard time catching up with two hundred billion worlds, right?"

"We do our best," said Howard. "Some worlds are better sources than others so we tend to concentrate on them."

"And a new sphere comes online every month," said Gary. "It's finding the computer capacity to keep up with the spheres that's the biggest problem. We're having to lease capacity wherever we can find it."

"So," said Annalise. "If I wanted to, say, find out if something happened yesterday on a particular world, when would I be able to check that newspaper database?"

"Do you have something in mind?" asked Gary.

Graham watched her carefully. She'd been unusually quiet since receiving that message in the corridor. She'd stood at the back, distracted, biting her lip.

Until now.

"Well, take what happened to Graham yesterday. The attempt to kidnap him."

"Someone tried to kidnap Graham?" Gary was shocked.

"Didn't I say?" said Annalise. "They closed the Resonance project on Annalise Fifteen's world."

She told Gary and Howard what had happened. Graham filled in the gaps.

"So, when could we see if any of that made the papers?" she asked. "Only, she's kinda scared and can't get hold of any newspapers."

Graham looked hard at Annalise. What was she up to? Annalise Fifteen wasn't scared of anything. If she wanted a newspaper she'd get one. Nothing defeated her.

"She wondered if you could find out for her," continued Annalise, looking at Gary. "That search you were showing us earlier—can you use it to look up events as well as people? Like a shooting, say, in Knightsbridge?"

"No problem," said Gary. "We do it all the time."

"Could you show me how?" asked Annalise.

"Of course, but the data won't be available yet," explained Gary. "We have a cycle of rolling updates. It could be days, months before that world is accessed again."

"We could express the update," Howard said to Gary. "Add that world to the express list. We have the authority."

"That would be great," said Annalise. "And if you show me how to search, I won't have to bother you again."

Annalise smiled and, for the first time in over a week, Graham didn't feel warmed by the experience. He felt excluded. She was up to something, something she should have shared with him—with a look, a knowing smile, a wink. He and Annalise were a team—they'd been that way since the beginning—them against the world. Why was she pushing him away?

Was it Gary?

He watched Annalise pull up a chair and shuffle it towards Gary's until they practically touched. He watched her hand fall on his shoulder and the way she leaned all over him to get a better view of the screen.

He barely heard what Gary had to say.

"That is so clever," said Annalise. "And if I wanted to see if the same event happened on other worlds, I'd omit that world filter thingy, right?"

"Right," said Gary.

Howard checked his watch. "We'd better get on. Shikha will be finished soon and we've only shown Graham two rooms."

"Is it okay if I sit here for a while?" asked Annalise. "I don't feel too steady on my feet. I guess two telepathic sessions in ten minutes took more out of me than I realized. I'll catch up with you in five minutes."

"Sure," said Howard. "Take as much time as you need."

Graham hung back to let the others out and glanced back at Annalise. She'd turned her back towards him but over her left shoulder he saw the flash of a new screen.

Annalise Fifteen bought a copy of
The Sketch
and took it with her to the nearest phone booth. She found the piece with the contact details and tapped in the telephone number.

"Tracey Minton Information Line, how can I help you?" A woman's voice—young and eager.

"I have the names of the men you're looking for but I need money and protection. My life's in danger."

"You're American?" The girl sounded puzzled.

"What's that gotta do with anything?" said Annalise. "Look, I'm no time waster if that's what you think. I'll give you three names now, the rest you get when I see the money. I know where the stuff is, who masterminded it, the lot. Are you interested?"

"Can I have your name and a number where we can contact you?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Annalise snapped. "I'm risking my life just talking to you. Now, listen, I'm gonna give you three names, you're gonna tell the police and I'll call back at three this afternoon. Got that?"

"I've got that."

"Okay, the names are John Farmer, Marcus Roberts and Brian Sweeney. They're the guys from the heist. John Farmer's the shooter. I'll give you the rest as soon as I see some money."

She put the phone down and prayed she knew what she was doing. Annalise Six had given her the names of the three robbers, the guy who planned it, the fence and various addresses they'd used on the other worlds. But was this world the same? What if one of the names she'd been given didn't exist on this world? Would it discredit her case?

She stepped outside and shielded her eyes. White paving slabs dazzled in the glaring sun. A salty in-shore breeze played with her hair. Tourists, in a mass of flesh and primary colors, ambled along the sea front.

If she'd named the wrong man, she could always say it was an alias. Whatever the problem, she'd think of something.

"Have you ever thought of using the ParaDim database to solve crime?" Annalise Six asked Gary.

"Pardon?"

Every eye turned towards Annalise. She'd barely said a word since catching up with the guided tour.

"To solve crime," she said. "Like Annalise One did. To use information on similar worlds where the bad guys got caught to solve the cases on the worlds where they didn't? It would do a lot of good, don't you think?"

There was something about the way she looked at Gary—an almost pleading look in her eyes.

"I don't think anyone's considered the possibility."

"It
would
make an excellent project," said Howard. "Very easy to pass off as another marvel of AI wizardry. I can hear Kenny Zamorra now." Howard changed his accent, adding a nasal quality to his voice. 'Give us your most puzzling cases, gentlemen, and our AI engine will connect the unconnectable.'"

Gary laughed. "But how would it make money?" he asked Howard. "You know how many projects there are fighting for resources. How do you choose between solving crime and curing cancer?"

"You choose both," suggested Graham quietly from the back of the room. Gary and Howard glanced his way and smiled as though noticing a small child for the first time, then turned back to their conversation.

"You could try for government funding," said Howard. "And there's always book and film deals. You could commission studies into old mysteries—Jack the Ripper, the Lindbergh baby . . ."

"But would it be right to make money out of it?" asked Annalise.

"There's no commandment that says 'Thou shalt not profit from good deeds,'" said Gary, still smiling. "If there was, ParaDim would have been damned a long time ago."

Graham felt cold. All this talk of ParaDim as though it was a benevolent organization. The ParaDim he knew was evil. Nor could he adjust to Gary and Howard's laid-back attitude. Shouldn't they be doing something? Why were they wasting time showing him around when they should be searching for an answer to the resonance problem? Didn't they have work to do? And why were there only two of them. If the Resonance project had such a high priority, why wasn't the building teeming with people?

A buzz came from the door. It clicked and opened.

"Sorry I'm late," said a breathless Shikha, smoothing a long strand of hair away from her face. "I lost track of the time."

She shook hands with Graham. Her hand felt small within his. Everything about her was small and slight—except for her hair, which hung long and straight and reached down to the small of her back. She was in her mid to late twenties, Indian—maybe Pakistani—and she looked so delicate, Graham thought her hand would crack if he squeezed it too hard.

He spent the middle part of the morning with Shikha, following her from room to room, experiment to experiment. He had electrodes clipped and unclipped to his chest and head, he was told to sit, to stand, to lie down. He was shown pictures, asked questions, given small puzzles to solve.

Shikha didn't say much in between. She watched the monitors, made notes, clucked and absent-mindedly twirled a long strand of hair around her pen.

Annalise came in for the last half hour. She sat quietly at the back and watched.

"Howard's updating the Resonance logs," she said to Graham when Shikha had finished. "He's in 5G if you want to watch."

Graham glanced towards Shikha. Was it okay for him to go?

"We're finished in here," said Shikha. "I'll see you in the foyer at one-thirty."

Annalise accompanied Graham to 5G. She still appeared distracted. Graham wondered if he should say something but couldn't find anything appropriate. Annalise inserted her card and placed her palm on the door panel. The door opened. Annalise hesitated.

"I'll catch you later," she said, turning and heading off down the corridor.

Graham watched her go, unsure what to do next. He appeared to be marking time, being shunted from one person to the next. Wouldn't it be more productive if he kept out of everyone's way and let them get on with their work?

"Are you coming in, Graham?" asked Howard from his terminal in the corner. "I've nearly finished. Pull up a chair."

Graham walked over and sat down next to Howard.

"We upload it every day," Howard said. "The Resonance log. Our small part in helping the other teams. We may not be as technologically advanced as the other worlds but we're thorough. Everything we learn—from whatever source and however unlikely—we collate and comment on. Even if we can't see a link, someone else might."

Graham glanced at the screen and saw his name. Graham Smith brought in for further tests today. We have the opportunity to compare results post and prior an exchange of consciousness.

"Aren't you worried about someone seeing this and closing you down?" he said.

"No. Why should we?"

Graham shook his head in disbelief. Kevin Alexander had been terrified of discovery as soon as he'd learned of the other Resonance project closures. He'd kept all mention of Graham Smith out of his logs and he'd recruited Annalise—his secure line of communication to the other Resonance projects. Didn't Howard know all this?

"What about the other Resonance project closures?" Graham asked. "As soon as anyone gets close to an answer they're closed down."

"Not here," Howard said, shaking his head and clicking on another file. "We have the full backing of the board and everyone's committed to finding a solution."

"But what about the logs from the closed projects? Kevin said their last entries all contained references to me."

"A coincidence," said Howard. "Seventeen projects stopped reporting. Maybe they were closed down, maybe something else happened . . ."

"I was there," interrupted Graham. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Resonance projects
are
being closed down. People
are
being hunted. I've seen it."

"Sorry," apologized Howard. "I forgot. Make that eighteen projects. But even so, what about the ten million projects that haven't been closed down? They mention you in their recent logs. Why haven't they been closed down?"

"How do you know they haven't?"

"Because we'd know."

"How? I thought Gary said you did rolling updates that might take weeks or months to get back to certain worlds."

"We do."

"So how would you know what's happened in the meantime?"

"We have a program that searches for RPs that used to report daily but no longer do. We run it every day. Yesterday's count was seventeen."