Read The Life of the World to Come Online
Authors: Kage Baker
Tags: #Adult, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Fantasy, #C429, #Extratorrents, #Kat, #Travel
The Life of the World to Come (33 page)
Alec Visits the Doctor
Though he had sworn he’d never set foot in the Bloomsbury house again, all dust, echoes, and palpable misery as it was, Alec stood in its parlor now.
He was overseeing the workmen who were bringing in new furniture and carpets. Alec had decided to redecorate the house himself.
It seemed like a properly stupid-aristocrat thing to do—fuss about new furniture and wallpaper in a place he never visited—and anyway the pale yellow mid-twentieth-century revival stuff he’d had before reminded him of Lorene.
Over the past few months he’d made a great public show of his new interest in buying antiques, spending outrageous sums of money on acquisitions of widely varying quality. Many of them were hideous, if authentic. Some—sadly, the more tasteful ones—were obvious fakes. All hope of bringing grace to any room they might occupy was dashed by Alec’s planned color scheme, which featured lots of purple and gold. Balkister, horrified after a virtual tour through the plans, told him it looked like what Disneycorp might produce if it ever decided to build a whorehouse in Fantasyland.
Alec was pleased. The stupider it looked, the better. He had no intention of living there.
The house was, in fact, a trap; or would be when he’d finished with it. He’d spent weeks fitting components into certain
of the antiques he’d bought. Some were merely backup systems, if virtually undetectable, for the considerable security system Alec already had in place. Some were rather more than that.
of the antiques he’d bought. Some were merely backup systems, if virtually undetectable, for the considerable security system Alec already had in place. Some were rather more than that.
There was a Louis Quatorze chair with concealed sensors sharp enough to allow it to monitor the transmissions originating from the building around the corner in Theobalds Road, the Gray’s Inn extension that Alec had discovered was owned by Dr. Zeus Incorporated, in its persona of Olympian Technologies. There was a suit of gilded thirteenth-century armor that was similarly rigged to monitor the British Museum, another hotbed of Company activity. There was a heavyset bronze nymph holding aloft an ostrich egg that would, at need, jam the transmissions from the monitor the Company had concealed within the statue of Sir Francis Bacon at Gray’s Inn. As Alec had uncovered more and more evidence of the Company’s presence in his life, his determination to bring them down had increased. So had his paranoia.
He was especially proud of the system he’d designed to tag and track intruders. In San Francisco he’d found a twenty-first-century aromatherapy dispenser, a massive lump of hollowed amethyst with a hulking gilded cherub mounted above it. It was stupefyingly ugly, but nobody could deny it went with his color scheme, and now it did much more than its original work of misting fragrance into the air from the reservoir inside the amethyst while soothing chimes tinkled.
Now, there was a brain of sorts behind the cherub’s staring eyes. Once it was mounted over the fanlight in the entryway, it knew it was to watch for anyone entering through the door below. If it observed anyone who wasn’t Alec, or accompanied by Alec, it would part its fat lips and blow out a steady spray of scented microdroplets, sending them wafting down on the unwanted visitors. The perfume was an unusual one. Alec had compounded it himself, so it was unique in that sense, but it also contained millions of nanobots designed to permanently embed themselves in anything they encountered.
Not terribly deeply, and when they were in an intruder’s skin all they’d do would be to release more of the perfume, in
tiniest increments over a period of years. Nanobot technology was too jealously guarded by its principal developer—Dr. Zeus Incorporated—for Alec to be able to get them to do much more, but once the intruder was tagged, Alec would be able to pick up his or her scent anywhere.
tiniest increments over a period of years. Nanobot technology was too jealously guarded by its principal developer—Dr. Zeus Incorporated—for Alec to be able to get them to do much more, but once the intruder was tagged, Alec would be able to pick up his or her scent anywhere.
The cherub also whistled “Lilliburlero.” There was no hidden purpose there; Alec simply liked the tune.
Now Alec watched the workmen impatiently, wishing they’d hurry up. Not a wall, not a floor or window but reminded him of dead time.
He still wasn’t sure just what he was. Perhaps Dr. Zeus had been experimenting with disease-resistant humanoids; he’d never had so much as a head cold in his life.
Most likely the Company was even now aware of his every move, might know he was planning to broadside it and do as much damage as he could. And if it was able to stop him? If somebody, somewhere, was able to press a button that would terminate the Alec experiment? Probably a damned good idea, on the whole.
Boyo, this house is bad for you. Yer depressed. Yer blood sugar’s low. Eat something, for Christ’s sake! I told you you should have had breakfast afore the car came.
Shut up,
responded Alec, but he groped in his coat pocket and found a carob-peanut-fig bar. He was unwrapping it when one of the workmen peered into the room apologetically.
responded Alec, but he groped in his coat pocket and found a carob-peanut-fig bar. He was unwrapping it when one of the workmen peered into the room apologetically.
“My lord? Where would you like this?” He held up a vividly enameled solid brass representation of Queen Victoria in a howdah atop an elephant’s back. Its only function was to offend the eye.
“Over there,” Alec told him, gesturing at a gilded table under the front window.
“In the window, my lord?” The man looked pained. “Where it can be seen?”
“Do it! No problem, okay?” Alec took a bite of the carob-peanut-fig bar. It was very hard, very dry, and tasted like hay. His pocket communicator shrilled. He exhaled in impatience and opened the call. “Checkerfield,” he growled, chewing laboriously.
“Is that Alec Checkerfield?” inquired a vaguely familiar voice on the other side of his tympanum.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“My God, you’re a hard man to connect with.”
“Try
Burke’s Peerage
next time. Who is this?”
Burke’s Peerage
next time. Who is this?”
“It’s Blaise! Tilney Blaise, Checkerfield.”
Alec had a blank second before he connected the memory. He gulped down his mouthful of carob-peanut-fig. “Hey, man, how’s it going?” he said, with simulated heartiness. “Haven’t seen you since, what, commencement?”
“It’s been that long, I think,” said Blaise.
“Well, well.”
“I’m doing very nicely these days, actually,” continued Blaise. “I’m working in California now. Just flew across for some business in the London offices and I thought—well, I just thought I’d sound you out on something. See if you’re interested. Still coaxing that cybersystem of yours to jump through hoops for you?”
Alec smiled at the mental image, while the Captain snorted indignantly. “Sort of. I’m only here for a month or so myself, actually. I spend most of the year in the Caribbean.”
“What luck I got through to you, then. Listen, why don’t we meet for lunch somewhere? Have you been to Club Kosmetas yet?”
“Er—no.”
“It’s in the Marylebone Road. Quite
très très.
Great Greek food. Say half an hour?”
très très.
Great Greek food. Say half an hour?”
Alec winced. Greek cuisine in a country where lamb, feta, and retsina were all illegal wasn’t his idea of dining.
“Well—”
“I’m awfully keen on telling you about this place I’m at. Dr. Zeus, Incorporated. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”
There was a heartbeat’s silence and then Alec made a thoughtful sound. “You know, I think I might have. Don’t they do some kind of consulting?” The Captain materialized beside him and pulled a cutlass from midair. Grinning evilly, he took out a whetstone and began to sharpen his blade.
“Something like that.”
“Okay,” said Alec in a bright voice. “See you there, then. Half an hour.”
He paused just long enough to give orders to the workmen
and then bounded down the front steps of the house, tossing his unfinished carob-peanut-fig bar into the gutter as he went (and thereby violating several municipal regulations). He jumped lightly into the car and switched on the motor. Whistling “Lilliburlero” between his teeth, Alec zoomed away in the direction of the Marylebone Road.
and then bounded down the front steps of the house, tossing his unfinished carob-peanut-fig bar into the gutter as he went (and thereby violating several municipal regulations). He jumped lightly into the car and switched on the motor. Whistling “Lilliburlero” between his teeth, Alec zoomed away in the direction of the Marylebone Road.
We ain’t ready to take ’em yet, son.
Oh, I know. We’ll play it cool.
Cool as the polar ice, my lad. What d’you reckon this Blaise is one of their observers, one of the ones Cecelia warned you about? They must know you went to see her. They must be wondering how much you know.
And I don’t know a damn thing, not me. He can do all the talking.
Club Kosmetas was a long narrow place, occupying what had been a row of small shopfronts back when trade had been rather brisker in Britain. Now connecting doors had been punched through, and the walls had been painted a dark yellow and decorated with neon representations of Greek cultural icons, such as the restored Acropolis and the Winged Victory of Samothrace. The tables were small and packed into each room, making it difficult for someone Alec’s size to edge his way through. The place was nearly deserted. He could see Blaise rising from a table three rooms in, smiling and waving. Cursing under his breath, he smiled and waved back, continuing his crabwise progress between the tables.
“My lord.” Blaise half-bowed.
“Yeah, hi.” Alec reached out to shake his hand. “Wow, it’s been ages, hasn’t it?”
Alec! God almighty, the man’s a cyborg!
You mean he’s had a job like mine done?
No!
“The Circle of Thirty,” said Blaise reminiscently. “Would you ever have thought you’d look back on those days as simple and uncomplicated?”
“Nope, never.” Alec kept a bland smile in place, though he
tilted his head and inhaled deeply. Blaise smelled human … and slightly nervous.
tilted his head and inhaled deeply. Blaise smelled human … and slightly nervous.
“I … er … I was going through some things in storage just the other day. I found the costume I wore at the swing gaskell at McCartney Hall,” said Blaise. “Remember that night?”
“Yeah.” Alec winced.
“The night Lord Howard caught us all on the catwalk with the gin,” said Blaise, as though he remembered it fondly. “You’ll never guess what I found in one of the pockets.” He reached inside his coat and slowly brought out the silver flask. “I cleaned it up a bit. Thought you’d probably want it back.”
“Oh, shrack, that was Roger’s,” said Alec, staring. It was a moment before he could stretch out his hand to take it. “Thanks, man.”
It’s bait. He wants you to feel you owe him. Alec, this ain’t a human being!
Alec suppressed a shudder as Blaise leaned back from the table, adjusting the fit of his coat, smoothing his lapels.
“We were worried about you—Balkister and I, you know—and all I could think to do was get it away from you, so you wouldn’t be caught with it.” Blaise gave a rueful chuckle. “But I wasn’t entirely sober myself that night, and then the catwalk came down, and I lost my nerve and scarpered. Took off the costume when I finally crawled home and never had occasion to wear it again. Those were the days, eh?”
“Memories, all right,” agreed Alec, reflecting that his most vivid ones were of stealthy sex and miserable hangovers. He wondered what sort of memories the thing at table with him had.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost touch with most of the old circle, though.” Blaise settled back into his seat and gestured to the waiter, who brought them two goblets of chilled mineral water. “You ever see anybody nowadays?”
He’s some kind of machine … he’s got organic components, though. In fact he’s mostly organic over a ferroceramic skeleton. I think he was human once.
Alec smiled, though he felt the hair standing on the back
of his neck, and shook his head. “Nobody, except old Balkister. He’s needed cash a few times. I’ve made some donations to his causes. Probably they went to pay his rent, but …”
Is this the same guy from my Circle of Thirty, or some kind of robot?
of his neck, and shook his head. “Nobody, except old Balkister. He’s needed cash a few times. I’ve made some donations to his causes. Probably they went to pay his rent, but …”
Is this the same guy from my Circle of Thirty, or some kind of robot?
“He was such a brilliant boy, too.” Blaise looked sad.
It’s the same man. My sensors weren’t as sharp back then, or I’d have noticed what I’m picking up now. Look at him, Alec. He still looks twenty, he ain’t changed.
“Balkister? About a billion times smarter than me,” said Alec, with his best idiot-aristo grin. “He’s kept that youthful glow, anyway. You’re looking pretty damned good yourself, yeah? You must live a trouble-free life.”
Did Blaise look just a little self-conscious? He picked up his menu and fiddled with it. “It’s the carrageenan-aloe packs. You wouldn’t believe what they do for your skin. But what about you? I hear you’re mostly living on your boat, nowadays.”
“Ship.”
Ship!
Ship!
“Yes, of course, sorry. You’ve decided to follow in your father’s footsteps, I suppose?”
“No, not exactly.”
Can he tell you’re with me?
Can he tell you’re with me?
I don’t think so. Yer being monitored pretty close, though. Steady, lad
.
.
Diffidently Alec picked up his menu and thumbed it, letting the column of entrees chatter suggestions at him while he calmed himself. Eggplant-walnut moussaka with soy feta? Lentil kebabs? White grape juice “unsweetened, with the faintest kiss of the authentic balsamic resin”? He had a sudden memory of Blaise, leaping from the falling catwalk, landing with perfect poise. The silly tabloids were always warning about cyborg monsters. Cold, flawless, machine-powered supermen, certain to take over the world if they were ever created … and here was one sitting across the table.
Other books
Outrage by Bugliosi, Vincent
Black Legion: 04 - Last Stand by Michael G. Thomas
Sinner (MC Club Biker Urban Alpha Male Erotic Romance) by Kasper, Billie
Slave by Sherri Hayes
Peter Benchley's Creature by Peter Benchley
Gypsy Beach by Jillian Neal
The Lost Bradbury by Ray Bradbury
His Royal Prize by Katherine Garbera
Unbound by Cat Miller
Thin White Line by Templeton, J.A., Templeton, Julia