Tesseracts Nine: New Canadian Speculative Fiction

by Nalo Hopkinson

  Dunbar’s to-do lists had run to riot in the library. Only they didn’t seem to be to-do lists at all. Audrey paused to pick up one that had fallen onto the carpet and glanced down the list:

  VOJISLAV WOJNO

  WILLING

  WITTING?

  VESPERTINE, AT BEST

  VERSE & CHAPTER

  VIRTUALLY BY ROTE

  VIRTUAL BUT UNCHANGED

  UNMADE IT, JUST IN TIME

  UNFINISHED WITH IT!

  U.N.-ALIGNED, INTERESTED IN IT?

  Not a to-do list, no. More like a list of keywords. Audrey blinked about, sensing she was standing in a kind of code-word diary. A house littered with mnemonic lists! Was Dunbar trying to solve some mammoth word-puzzle, or just work through his own thoughts—

  “Well?” Dunbar’s voice from directly behind her. “What is it that you do, Miss Zheng?”

  She turned to see him sitting in a high-backed leather chair, a bottle of Glenfiddich and two glasses on a low table before him. Dunbar had changed into a fresh shirt, but looked no more refreshed than before. “Here in town,” he added, “on a morning when you’re not hunting international DUTT criminals.” He’d already poured two fingers of whiskey into one glass, now poured the same into the other.

  Audrey stepped over, accepted the glass held out to her, breaking her own avoid-liquor-and-stick-to-wine rule for business meetings. This was, after all, a meeting where hard liquor was implicit, if not requisite. After sampling a smooth sip, she replied, “I represent Immensity’s interests in the Boston area. We’ve a big presence across the river.” Audrey gestured toward the library’s window, which offered an up-river view of the dome of M.I.T. and beyond it Harvard’s quaint village-like cluster. “Cambridge just agreed on a site near the universities for one of our Emerald campuses.”

  “You’re in Immensity promotion, then.” Dunbar raised his glass in a toast to her. “A marketer, like myself.” He nodded toward the bay of books his chair was facing, and Audrey took a polite step into the bay, where a desk had a piecemeal world-map spread across it. Continents were laid out in side-by-side printouts, precise dots of colour denoting geo-economic fealty: a gold swath covered China and America, the Pan-Pacific Alliance; the so-called U.N.-aligned states that still claimed United Nations membership in classic blue, centred in Europe and the Middle East; the Non-aligned states of the southern hemisphere in mauve…

  And Immensity’s influence, marked in with tiny grey-green dots, looking like an algae infecting the traditional mindshare-markets. Australia completely grey-green, the Pan-African Group patched with grey-green too, plus strong spots of Immensity infection across South America, East Asia, Eastern Europe — Dunbar’s map clearly showed the U.N.-aligned losing mindshare, global consumers buying into the new view of the U.N. as a club for kakistocracies, crony-economies.

  “That’s six months out of date, I’m afraid,” Dunbar said from behind her.

  “Recent enough.” Audrey turned back to him. “Kevin, I’m more negotiator than marketer. I vet deals with City Hall, work the lawyers, argue the contracts.”

  Dunbar drained his whiskey in one shot, frowned up at her. “Bit heavy-handed, sending a closer like you to talk with me.”

  “We’ve a lot at stake, as you said at the gate.” Audrey’s Security Division advisors had warned her to make their offer immediately, before others showed up. But Security Division sent Audrey because of her reputation for reading people. And the way Dunbar mocked Immensity at the gate convinced her their offer would be refused, if she didn’t get a better read on what this man was actually feeling before she delivered it.

  Dunbar poured himself a second whiskey, gestured for her to sit in the chair he’d pulled up opposite him. Instead, Audrey stepped into an adjacent book-bay, arcing away from her host, around behind him. Her turn to circle him, scan him by scanning his library, a better guide to Dunbar’s way of thinking than the man himself was likely to offer… The closest bookshelves were individually labelled Belarus, Laos, Xinjiang, Mauritius, Myanmar. Pretty clear Dunbar had actually visited the war-torn locales showcased in his haunting holo-gallery. Beyond the travel books, shelves of texts on simulation science and SOOPE theory — among them Mapp’s classic Self-Organizing and Optimizing Programmable Evolumes, and Mennochio’s groundbreaking Civilization Studies in Complexity, other foundational texts crucial to Immensity.

  “Not much here from your years in the Defence industry,” Audrey said, coming round the other side of Dunbar. He pointed her toward a battered-looking warrior’s shield hanging on the back wall, so she sidled over to it.

  “This genuine?” Audrey peered closely at the shield’s warped surface, traced a finger up toward its centre, where a raised metal embossment stuck out like a jagged tooth.

  “Roman, second century,” Dunbar confirmed. “Careful of that omphalos, it’s still razor sharp, despite its age.”

  “Omphalos,” she repeated, touching the jag oh-so-carefully.

  “Means ‘centre of the action’. See all the dents and scratches around it? Made by sword strikes. Omphalos is where the shield meets the enemy. Word’s derived from the Latin umbilicus.” Dunbar paused before adding, “Just a tiny barb, but in battle it’s the umbilical-link between combatants. Pierces an attacker during moments of intimate contact. Acts as a thorn in the side, wears him down.”

  Realizing what he was implying, Audrey turned, stared back at the man.

  “Just a tiny barb,” Dunbar repeated, eyes glimmering with intelligence. “But it can spell the difference, during a close-quarters fight.”

  Still razor sharp, despite his age. “You understand Immensity’s situation, then,” she said.

  “I understand DUTT charges are the U.N.’s way of pressuring multinationals.” Dunbar began swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Back in my day,” he said, “a video-game controller got branded Dual-Use Technology because it might guide cruise missiles. Some line of shampoo got slapped with export bans because it could be Dual-Used to develop chemical weapons. An environmental-monitoring system couldn’t be sold because it could also be a powerful surveillance technology. Recasting ploughshares as swords goes back a long way, Audrey.” Dunbar leaned forward, as if prepared to share a great secret: “They DUTT a product to plunge a multinational’s stock. Force the CEO into a closed-door deal. Next thing you know, some U.N.-aligned state gets the firm’s newest factory.”

  “U.N.’s after bigger prey than a multinational today,” Audrey said.

  “Perhaps so.” Swirling his glass of whiskey again, and peering down into the glass-at his distorted reflection? “Perhaps I’m the omphalos,” he said. “Just a barb the powers-that-be found to prick at your Immensity, pull down your philosopher-king Mennochio. Assume Jorges admitted that we met while he was at Los Alamos?”

  “Jorges Mennochio met with hundreds of Pentagon contractors like you — part and parcel of the Los Alamos experience.” At least they were getting somewhere, Audrey thought. “Jorges didn’t keep a log. Most meetings were annoyances to him, kept him from his real work. And he can’t recall the particulars of a meeting with you.”

  “Guess I didn’t make the impression on him he made on me.” Dunbar abruptly shuddered, muttered, “Man looked like a monster even then, you know. Some kind of flying accident, wasn’t it?” He took a swallow of whiskey, watching her speculatively.

  Audrey folded her arms, refusing to take the bait. So Dunbar, making a dismissive flourish with his free hand, said: “Anyway, you’re not here to tell me about Mennochio’s memory lapses.”

  “I’m here to find out what you remember about meeting Mennochio. How he affected your early SOOPE projects, that sort of thing.” Play it safe, she thought, play it straight. Ply him with the truth. “Our Enigmedia Division’s hoping for personal recollections, the human angle.”

  “‘The hum
an in human civilization’,” Dunbar quoted, hoisting his glass in a mock-toast to another early Immensity slogan, and spilling a little whiskey on the carpet. “‘The Capitalism of the Twenty-First Century’.” Another toast. “‘The Maturing of Marketing’ — ah, that was my favourite! Out with all our cherished marketing-attractors: violent images, roaring voices, hunger for fats, sugars, sex.” Peering into his whiskey again, then reluctantly setting his glass down. “Alcohol.”

  “Limbic-system attractors,” Audrey reminded him, dismayed that he was back to slagging slogans, feeling that she was making no headway. “Immensity markets to forebrain hungers,” she said, and immediately regretted sounding so defensive. “That’s more human by definition.”

  “Please.” Dunbar’s turn to raise his hands in a hold-it-there gesture. “Heard it all before,” he said, “didn’t find it convincing the first time. A standard of ethics based on systemic-attractors!” Dunbar laughed darkly. “Not exactly a government standard. Not a corporate code. Immensity’s more like … a religious creed. “ Nodding to himself as he took up his glass, took a swallow of whiskey. “Like Christianity during the Dark Ages.” Nodding again, then taking a step into self-absorption, a strange distance stealing over him. Uber-Dunbar, summoning a god-like remove as he glanced toward the global mindshare-map on the desk nearby. “Worldwide membership, influence,” he murmured to himself. “Economic, academic, philosophic power without real military power.” He sighed, turned back to Audrey. “Suppose it wouldn’t do to have Immensity’s saintly founder forced to take the stand in a DUTT trial.”

  Audrey blinked in surprise, delighted Dunbar had come around to the meat of the matter without her having to drag him there. “The Hague’s been trying to DUTT Mennochio’s early work at Los Alamos for decades,” she admitted. And if a SOOPE was used as a weapon in Gulf War I, the Hague would have its Dual-Use precedent, and Mennochio could end up in the docket surrounded by photos of the thousands who’d died on the main six-lane highway across Kuwait. It’ll be blood all over SOOPE theory, as Security Division put it to her that morning.

  Dunbar seemed to read her mind. “Would the public see the brilliant mind or the monster?” he wondered. “The way poor Jorges looks.” He shook his shock of white hair, gave another little shudder. “A made-to-order mad scientist.”

  “Come on, Kevin. The Pentagon’s handing over their records on your involvement right this minute. They’re happy to blame al-Khafji on a private contractor. You’re the made-to-order scapegoat here.”

  Dunbar nodded. He’d be taking the stand for sure, surrounded by those horrible ‘Highway of Death’ photos. He grimaced, downed the rest of his glass in one quick gulp, and suddenly reached for a drawer of the nearby desk, removed a remote, aimed it at a wall-screen hanging beyond the Roman shield. Images from the front-gate camera instantly appeared. Plenty of parked cars on the cul-de-sac now, plus the usual array of broadcast birds-of-prey: reporters chatting amiably, their lenses held ready, their eyes fixed on the mansion’s doors and driveway, waiting for their chance to pounce.

  Damn! She’d made a mistake waiting to make her offer.

  “Kevin,” she began.

  “They’re not here after me, Audrey,” Dunbar said forcefully, as though needing to convince himself. “They’re only here to hear how I can bring down Immensity. And believe me, they’re going to make it in my best interest to do so. That’s the way the system works.”

  “The system’s changing.” Nothing left to lose, not after what Dunbar had just said. “Immensity can give you another way out.” She didn’t sound as if she believed that herself. Why would he? “An opportunity to show the world the true al-Khafji simulation. Your version of al-Khafji, in full. Your story, Kevin.”

  Dunbar stared at her. “What makes you think I’ve got some burning story to tell?” He sounded cautious, but curious.

  Trying to remember what she’d rehearsed with her Security Division advisors. “I was briefed about this house. About the lower floors,” she said, stepping over to the library’s wrap-around windows. “Downstairs, it’s all one big Realmplex, right?” Audrey peered out at the tiers zigzagging down the slope below, then turned back to see Dunbar rolling his eyes; evidently he’d been reproached about the bluff-side floors before.

  “My personal idea-space,” he explained. “Use it for exploring UberReal’s client worlds, testing our re-branding campaigns.”

  “After Gulf War One,” she said, “you switched from military media-campaigns to fantasy-world product placements.” Recalling the phrasing one Darwin advisor had suggested she use: “From total war to total escapism. Interesting leap. What made you take it?”

  Dunbar shrugged, poured himself a third whiskey. “So long ago,” he replied, “what’s there to tell? World changed back then. Defence-contracting changed too. Began to shrink, you see. So I went looking for something new.”

  “Strange you never joined the push for Immensity,” Audrey pointed out, “since you claim Mennochio made an impression on you. The DUTT indictment states that you were greatly influenced by Mennochio too. But Realm re-branding’s pretty far off our Immensity business model.”

  Dunbar threw up a hand in exasperation. “Already said I wasn’t convinced by Jorges’ vision, not when he first described it to me.” He added an extra finger of whiskey to his glass, but let it sit there untouched, holding the half-empty bottle in mid-air, as though he’d just remembered something. “Didn’t believe it would ever get off the ground, if you must know.” Dunbar waved the bottle toward the mindshare-map printout, detailing precisely how wrong he’d been. “At the time, seemed too great a sea-change. Too new a world for me, Audrey.”

  Grasping that Dunbar hadn’t been mocking the original Immensity slogans — only his failure to heed them. Never too late to sign up for a membership, she thought, but didn’t dare say that. Instead, she pushed him harder: “Spend a lot of time in your playspace downstairs, now that you’re retired?”

  “Spend a lot of time travelling in the real world. You saw the holos in my gallery.”

  “Those war-zone tourism shots? There’s a story there, Kevin,” she said, then changed tack. “I didn’t see any photos of your family.”

  “Only child.” The look he gave her suggested that line of inquiry would get her nowhere. “Both parents dead.”

  “But you were married at one time.” Seeing that he was swirling his whiskey again, readying to knock it back again, Audrey walked back to Dunbar’s side, leaned an arm on the high back of his chair, held out her glass to him. “You divorced right after Gulf War One,” she said, as he set his own glass down, picked up the bottle to fill hers up. “Right around the time you switched out of war simulations into fantasy worlds. Around the same time you met Mennochio, and began following his career.” Taking the bottle gently out of Dunbar’s hand, Audrey waved it toward the mindshare-map, just as he’d done. “Tracking Immensity’s success. Collecting Mennochio’s major texts. Keeping up with his latest SOOPE breakthroughs.”

  Dunbar stared up at her, stared right through her, so distant he might have been alone in the room. Wiping at his mouth, he turned to the up-river windows, where dots of newsdrones were now visible, veering over the water toward Hoag Head like a flock of vultures.

  Audrey sat down in the chair opposite him, set her glass down beside his. Took the tiny camcorder out of her blouse pocket, set it beside the whiskey bottle.

  “Something happened during that al-Khafji campaign,” she said. “Something happened to you, Kevin. That’s the story Immensity wants to tell, if you’ll allow us to.”

  Dunbar turned back to her then, managed to focus on her. He’d let her into his house, after all. Perhaps he was prepared to clear his conscience.

  “All you people want to know is whether I met with Mennochio before writing the al-Khafji SOOPE,” he sighed.

  “We hope your story cl
arifies that,” she agreed. “But whatever you tell us, we’ll publish.”

  “In your standard Immensity format.”

  “In our standard format, I assure you…”

  The following historical-sampler is intended for Immensity subscribers upgrading to Researcher-level membership.

  It is presented here as part of our offering on the origins and early applications of SOOPE theory, prior to the emergence of Civilexity — a.k.a. ‘Civilization Studies in Complexity’.

  It is archived as A Tale of Two War Zones on all nodes of our online Enigmedia Division.

  A note on the format:

  A Tale of Two War Zones adheres to the standard format of other Enigmedia histories and mysteries. This format is designed to mimic SOOPE simulations, which show how big events link back to small causes in complex systems… And so all Enigmedia tales show links between the big metasystem-of-systems that comprises global civilization and the small individuals who live down at civilization’s base, who look up from time to time, and spy a patch of sky through a break in the clouds, and wonder how it all comes together, how the whole metasystem actually works.

  Our hope is that these archived histories will help new subscribers glimpse the workings of the big picture, grasp how people can individually affect it, changing their own destiny and — sometimes — the destiny of all of us.

  For more on the origins of SOOPE theory, Civilexity, and our transitional-stage Crossover institution, see A Tale of Two Breakthroughs.

  Activate historical-sampler now?

  LOADING SAMPLER…

  August 2nd 1990

  A door that shouldn’t have opened suddenly opened.

  That’s how Kevin Dunbar found out the post-Cold War world was drastically changing direction, only nine months after the fall of the Wall.

  The door that shouldn’t have opened was at one end of a long boardroom in the Dunbar & Caety headquarters. And when it opened, Kevin himself was at the opposite end of the boardroom, gesticulating with a remote toward a giant TV screen on the wall beside him, giving a private demo to a select party of his firm’s most prestigious and precocious clients. Kevin had gone to the trouble of turning off his pager, turning off the ringers of the boardroom’s phones, turning down the lights and even blinkering the boardroom’s skylight, to ensure nothing could distract the visiting VIPs seated around the boardroom’s table.