Sequela (46 page)

'And that works how?' Chen asked.

'OK,' Kester took a breath. 'The screen itself is biological, yes? I don't know how much Lex has told you. It's built by a set of viruses and the only pieces of hard nanotech I've kept in there are nanotransmitters, which we need for obvious reasons. Its real power is that it can talk to the body and vice versa; its components are built by the body's own cells and this allows each to
recognise
the other's immunological responses and act in tandem, multiplying the effect. No messy implant to provide the raw materials. No immunosuppressant drugs.

'The first virus is programmed, if you like, with the structure of the screen. It gets the host tissue to build the screen bed. You might be aware that in the Stark Wellbury screen, the nanotech particles create the screen bed themselves. Of course it can't be coated with its diamond cloak until after it's assembled, so it effectively introduces visible foreign tissue, which is just the start of the problems the body has with it. Our screen is built in-house by the host body – problem solved.

'The second virus infects the newly engineered tissue, providing a set of factory cells – viruses are perfect factories but they normally make copies of themselves. Some of the factory cells make what I'm calling "cruisers" and "bruisers" – cells that identify and chomp on baddies respectively. Some of them make antibodies. These factory cells…' Kester fast-forwarded past some detail in his head '…will make copies of whatever we send them the blueprints for.

'You could think of it as the virus being on pause until we send it a set of blueprints. Once it receives its blueprints, it operates like a normal virus – reproduces until the cell bursts, sending the new viruses or in this case, antibodies out into the bloodstream. As you've probably realised, this means that the tissue needs a perpetually regenerating set of factory viruses. That bit was tricky.'

'OK,' Chen waved her hand. 'I think I can trust you on the details. How are they responding to the new viruses?'

'Exactly as planned. The cruisers and bruisers act like super-components of the existing immune system. When an antigen is identified, the body starts to produce antibodies using both its own processes and the new tools we've given it. The transmitter sends details of everything that is produced back to the central database, which includes the new blueprints in the next upload transmission. I've used a different set of new viruses on each torso and then cross-infected them to see how well it works.
And
the transmitters also pick up blueprints from other screen users in the local population, preparing the host for any likely infection that's doing the rounds, which is fucking amazing by the way.' Kester checked himself. Be sober. Be sober.

'And how well does it work?'

'It works well. Very well. There are two torsos you'll be particularly interested in.' Kester led Chen to the two boxes at the back of the room. 'These guys – Daniel and William. William has an old Stark screen and Daniel has no immune system.' Chen walked around the boxes as Kester explained. 'We successfully shut William's old screen down, using a variant of our old friend Trojan12 incidentally, and there has been no interference. And with Daniel, the screen was able to produce enough antibodies without the support of the immune system to protect it as completely as the old screen.'

Chen had stopped circling and was leaning against a workbench at the side of the room, a pensive smile on her face.

'Doctor Lowe. You have been busy.'

'In my own time – my own time. And remember, Alexis and I brought this to you.'

Chen stared at Kester for a moment, then looked away to the side, breathed in and nodded.

'I'm going to make this easy for you, Kester.' She looked back at him. 'Alexis has told me what you want. If this wasn't so big, I'd be furious. And as for recent events – well, this has been a hard week for all of us. I think some mutual forgiveness may be in order.' She nodded again, as if satisfied that this part of the issue was dealt with. 'Is it feasible to test this in-house like Alexis suggested? We don't need to worry about Farmer any more, not now this is out, and I'm willing to do some rearranging if he looks like causing trouble. Having said that, if we could keep the testing in-house for phase one that would be ideal – speed things up.'

'Absolutely. We've more than enough staff to do feasible trials, although we might need some externals to make sure the demographic representation is right.'

'And how long is this going to take? As long as a drugs trial?'

'Nowhere near. A year, 18 months maybe.'

Chen snorted as if this was nothing and then smiled. 'I think you have yourself a deal, young man.'

Kester looked over at Alexis, then back at Chen.

'Really?' he asked, like a child given permission to draw on the walls.

'Really. You'll want this in writing. Come by my office this afternoon.'

Kester couldn't conceal a nervy twitch. To go by someone's office at V so often implied more than it expressed.

'No funny business. You have my word.'

'Thank you.'

'And this is to remain top secret, you understand?'

'I'll treat it as if it's still my private work. You have my word.'

'One other thing,' Chen added. 'I've set up an appointment for you with our
counsellor
and put a freeze on your alcohol account.'

'Right,' Kester said. 'Fair enough.'

-o-

The week was accelerating. It was all unreal. Kester had believed it would all stop, that none of this would happen. Instead, V had acknowledged his research and had put out a statement telling the world that they were developing a rival nanoscreen to Stark Wellbury's: a screen that would be affordable and available to everyone; a screen that would work with the body, not against it. The
rumours
in the press were that Kester would make an announcement about it at the show – an official announcement this time – perhaps even do a presentation. While Chen hadn't asked him to prepare anything he was sure that the
rumours
had originated from V itself. It had to be a teaser to keep the show on track. Of course there was the embarrassment of the post-binge interviews, but Kester suspected that these were easier for him than for Chen, who had to appear with him as the reformed, philanthropic face of VDV.

On a high, Kester had agreed to go through with the remaining pre-show appointments under strict condition that the clients were briefed on appropriate
behaviours
and the consequences of overstepping the boundaries. To the public it must look like things were continuing smoothly.

The remaining appointments were at the Vspa in the top of the PlayPen. They seemed less of a big deal armed with the knowledge that this really was a one-off and that his screens would soon be in production. Kester was almost looking forward to them.

The Vspa was a blissful retreat after the sensory overload of the palace and the raucous confusion of Pera Pera's phantasmagorical stage show.

The walls, with their City view, were whited out so that all the clients could see was the sky. The large circular bed was set up in the centre of the main space along with a freestanding hot tub to one side. Round the sides of the room a sauna, a steam room, a wet room and a play room had been set up. The play room had walls which could be misted or coloured out. It had a soft floor and was decked out with cushions and furs. A discreet toy cabinet was nestled in the corner and the curved side of the room housed a large display on a default setting of open log fire. Finally, there was a treatment room which could be used by the clients before, during or after their appointment with Kester.

It was unimaginative in a way and Kester had his doubts about it being set up the same way for each client – wouldn't they all want a different experience? But his concerns were unfounded. Each client brought with them their own experiences and preferences, their own fantasies and fetishes. Each made it their own.

On Tuesday, with Basil Black Junior, the room became a log cabin in the wilderness. Kester, still hung over, was thankful for this. Black touched him as if they were the only two humans for thousands of miles and the feeling of isolation suited Kester. It was the first time he had experienced full sex with a man and the fantasy of this romance at the ends of the earth helped him to relax, allowed him to be taken in, wooed and brought around to the idea.

On Wednesday, with Tamsin Holloway, a creature of limited imagination, the room had remained a spa where her naughty masseur took advantage of her in every conceivable way.

Thursday was a confusing day. Kester spent it with the anonymous wife of a reclusive American billionaire who called herself simply 'Joan'. Her fantasies were unfocused, as if she wanted everything at once. Kester felt he was running around after her, a naked clown, always one step behind her desires. He was glad for Gaunt's 'medicine'. However, he was repaid fully for his efforts when, towards the end of the appointment, they spent half an hour worshipping each others' feet with caresses and kisses until he finally felt for the first time that day that he wanted and was able to please her.

When Kester finally got back to his apartment, he was completely spent. He was relieved to find that Alexis was still in her office, working on the last-minute arrangements for the following night. It was past midnight when she finally appeared. Kester woke when she slipped into bed beside him. He flicked his bedside light on.

'Sorry,' she said, 'I didn't mean to wake you. Gaunt told me about your vigorous session with "Joan".' She rubbed at her eyes.

'He did?' Kester replied sleepily. 'Yes…she was…tiring.'

'At least that's it now, apart from the show.'

'Apart from the show.' Kester waited for the brightness from his lamp to calm, for the room to come into focus. 'But that's just ten minutes of madness, one night, just like the last one. And it won't just be me. There'll be an army of models. And you.'

'And me. Yes, I suppose I had better.'

Alexis had been working hard this week, Kester reminded himself, taking in her face. She looked drawn,
colourless
. Her eyes were raw. In the dim lamp light she looked like a sexy vampire from an old movie, silken hair tumbling back from a face lost to life.

'Your eyes are red,' he said, putting a hand to her cheek.

'I know. I'm just tired is all.' She blinked a few times and wiped at them with her fingers. 'I'll be fine in the morning.'

'You should have a lie-in tomorrow.'

A laugh died in her throat. 'I'll be up early and it won't be early enough.'

'Anything I can help with?'

'No. I wish there were. I probably won't see you until the curtains go up.'

'Try to.'

'I'll try to.'

Kester kissed her, flicked the lamp off, closed his eyes, opened his eyes and it was morning. He felt like an old alarm clock, switched off at the wall, then switched on again, digits flashing in panic, unsure what time it was. He felt cheated, like he hadn't slept at all. He put out a hand. Alexis was already gone but her side of the bed was still warm. He rolled over and snuggled down into her scent.

-o-

Alexis cursed at her reflection. The bulbs around the edge of her mirror lit her eyes with tiny windows. She remembered the first virus Kester had given her, the room distorting as she contained her panic. Her eyes were still red and were starting to run. She had believed it was tiredness and that a coffee would banish it. Might it be an irritant? Had she touched anything, used anything unusual? She picked up her makeup bag and rummaged through it. That new mascara? But she'd worn it before and she had been fine.

'This had better be a side effect of your next wonderful surprise, my love.'

She flicked the light switch. The bulbs sputtered out and she stood listening for the twanging of the filaments as they cooled. She wiped a thick tear from the corner of her eye, then walked back through her office and out of the door, pulling her jacket from the back of her chair as she went.

Gerald was doing zigzag laps of the lab when Alexis arrived, stopping here and there to peer over shoulders and point at things. As he walked, he kept his hands gripped tightly at the small of his back. She moved to intercept him as he approached the end of a row of workbenches.

'Last minute preparations for the show,' he said without prompting as she strode towards him.

Her strides were wider than the tolerance of her skirt and with each step she felt it hug her lean thighs.