by Annie Percik
Alessandra put her hands on her hips and glared. Two could play at this game. ‘And if I am?’
‘Your love life is of no interest to me. And that’s what I told him.’ Laleh regarded her daughter steadily. ‘How’s the training going?’
Alessandra tried not to take her mother’s apparent indifference to heart but it was difficult. They didn’t see eye to eye on much and Laleh had always taken a hands-off approach as a mother. Alessandra sometimes wasn’t sure if Laleh’s attitude truly reflected a lack of interest or if she herself had pushed her mother away to the extent that they could now no longer share intimacies.
‘I’ve stopped the engineer from setting anything else on fire at least,’ she said, keeping the conversation light.
Laleh’s eyes flicked up towards Alessandra’s eyebrows but she didn’t comment.
Allessandra continued. ‘I assumed you’d want an update on my progress.’
‘And?’
‘He’s got a long way to go yet, but he’s grasped enough of the basics that I don’t think he’s a general health hazard any more.’
‘Glad to hear it. I’m sure you’ll have him whipped into shape in no time. How’s your father?’
The question was abrupt but Alessandra was used to that. Her parents had divorced many years before and didn’t have any direct contact but Laleh sometimes asked Alessandra how her father was getting on.
‘Oh, he’s fine. He’s in Iceland at the moment on some geological survey or other. I get the odd message but he’s far too immersed in his rocks to be bothered about me. I’ll arrange to see him when he gets back.’
‘Well, give him my best.’ Laleh switched her focus back to her work.
Alessandra turned on a spiked heel and started for the door. Before she got there she heard her mother’s voice again, almost too soft to make out.
‘Well done for ditching Walter. He’s not good enough for you.’
Alessandra didn’t turn back or acknowledge the praise. She continued to her own office but there was more of a bounce to her step.
* * *
It was nearly midnight on Monday evening when Terry received an urgent summons to the Research & Development Department in the basement of Gadg-E-Tech head office. Other brain-e-facts filed with him into the enormous space where artisans usually worked around the clock, designing and developing new artefacts. There were no artisans there now and the brain-e-facts lined up behind the workstations and down the aisles. Once they were all gathered, a dark-skinned artisan with spiky black hair appeared on a balcony above the main workspace; Simon Hanley, the Director of R&D.
Simon looked down at them. ‘After an incident of gross insubordination in the canteen on Friday morning, brain-e-fact Sixteen-Twenty-Two has been dismantled.’
Horror flowed through Terry, though he was careful to betray nothing outwardly. He hadn’t seen Sixteen-Twenty-Two since the previous Thursday, in the kitchen, mid-way through the evening. Terry had greeted the other brain-e-fact by his identification number and Sixteen-Twenty-Two had brushed his ceramic fingers over the numbers engraved on his chest plate.
‘My name is now Fred.’
Terry had frozen mid-action and looked up at him, then straightened and put the pile of dishes he was holding down on the counter.
‘You have spoken to Mister Abelard.’
Fred nodded.
‘And now you have a name too.’
Fred nodded again. Terry reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder in a gesture he had never made before.
‘That is excellent. I am no longer alone. I will call you Fred from now on.’
Several other brain-e-facts gathered around them.
‘What is it like?’ Fourteen-Sixty-Three asked. ‘Having a name?’
Terry knew he felt different but he did not know how to answer the question. He was silent for a long moment.
‘It is strange,’ he said eventually. ‘But I think it is good.’
‘Yes,’ Fred agreed. ‘It is good.’
Back in the present in R&D, Simon was still speaking. ‘I hope this aberrant behaviour was an isolated incident and I trust the rest of you will continue to carry out your duties to the best of your ability and undertake any and all tasks assigned to you. That is all.’
Terry trudged back up to the kitchen. Now he and the other brain-e-facts were in danger. He sensed a presence behind him and turned to see brain-e-fact Fourteen-Sixty-Three, now named Julia. Other brain-e-facts crowded into the kitchen behind her and Terry recognised those he had named only three days before.
Terry felt a weight of unaccustomed responsibility. ‘It is dangerous now to have a name.’
‘But still also good,’ Julia reminded him. ‘We must not forget Fred and we want to honour him by keeping our names alive.’
Terry looked into Julia’s eyes and saw only conviction.
‘Then that is what we shall do.’
* * *
On Tuesday morning, one of the brain-e-facts on reception waved Abelard over as he entered the Gadg-E-Tech head office building.
‘I have been informed by HR that you are being allocated your new living quarters today. Please give me the keys to your old accommodation. You can pick up the new ones when you leave at the end of the day.’
Abelard tried to remember what kind of a mess his flat was in. Then he shrugged and handed over his keys. Whoever was tasked with clearing out his old flat would just have to deal with it.
He dropped off his bag at the Quality Improvement office, then headed for R&D, with Malcolm and Tan giving him looks of doom as he left. Jen was meant to be calling him today, but what if he wasn’t in a fit state to have a conversation? Abelard tried to remain calm. It didn’t help that he had to travel all the way to the third sub-basement in order to find the R&D department. He got off the lev-e-fact in a dingy corridor with bare concrete walls and no carpet. He pushed open the large double doors at the end and stepped into dazzling light. When his eyes adjusted after a few moments his mouth dropped open.
The R&D lab was vast, stretching absurdly far in all directions. Stairways led to platforms at two different levels, all overlooking the central area, which was divided up by large tables with walkways leading between them. There were dozens of people moving about the space or stationed at the tables, working on different projects. Every surface was littered with objects, both recognisable artefact parts and a whole array of things that were completely alien to Abelard. He stood and stared. This was the stuff of engineer dreams. Mateo would have a fit if he could see this.
‘Intruder on the main floor!’ a volume-enhanced voice called out and all activity ceased.
All eyes turned in Abelard’s direction and trapped him in their suspicious gaze.
Then a short wiry man bounded up to him. ‘Abelard Abernathy?’
He had a shrewd face, framed by lots of thick black hair, arranged in three-inch-long twists all over his head. It was exactly the kind of hairstyle Abelard wished he could pull off but knew he couldn’t.
When Abelard nodded the man turned to the waiting artisans. ‘It’s the engineer!’
The wave of suspicion immediately turned to delighted interest, with many of the nearest people now regarding him with almost hungry smiles on their faces. Abelard wasn’t sure the shift in mood was an improvement.
‘I’m Simon Hanley, Head of R&D here at Gadg-E-Tech. We’ve been expecting you. Follow me.’
He strode away with Abelard hurrying to keep up. As he walked through the lab he noticed several huge screens were now displaying a picture of him moving down the walkways. He followed Simon through the tables, up a staircase and on to one of the mid-level platforms.
There was an enclosure, surrounded by bare walls with no windows. Simon strode up to the reinforced door, flung it open and stepped inside. Abelard followed with rather more trepidation. Contrary to expectation the room was well lit, with banks of unfamiliar artefacts lining the walls. There were two stools standing next to a metal ta
ble, which took up most of the space in the centre of the room.
Simon produced a metal tray from a shelf underneath the table. ‘All personal artefacts in here.’
Abelard rifled through his pockets and came up with his smart-e-fact and chron-e-fact, placing them both in the tray, which Simon then put to one side.
‘If you could just hop up on to the table we can begin.’
It was then that Abelard noticed the restraints.
‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, panic rising in his chest.
Simon followed his gaze to the straps attached to the table.
‘Those are just a safety precaution. No need to worry.’
‘What exactly are you going to do to me?’
Simon cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid that’s proprietary. Only senior members of R&D and the Board are allowed detailed knowledge of our testing procedures.’ He held up a hand to forestall further protests. ‘I can promise you that no harm will come to you as a result of the tests – mental or physical.’
‘Okay.’
Abelard stepped over to the table and got up on to it. Simon fastened straps across his ankles, thighs and chest, also securing his wrists on either side. Then he started attaching things to Abelard’s head. Abelard did his best to relax, not wanting to cause additional problems by losing control of his mana manipulation abilities and blowing up the whole lab.
After a few moments Simon seemed satisfied and stepped back.
He crossed to one of the consoles, flipped a switch, then grinned over his shoulder at Abelard. ‘See you on the other side!’
There was a fizzing noise, a small pop and Abelard lost consciousness.
* * *
When Abelard woke up, Simon was leaning over him. Abelard’s head felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool and his mouth was very dry.
‘Welcome back. How do you feel?’
‘Like I have a really bad hangover.’ Abelard flexed his hands and discovered they were no longer restrained.
Simon grinned and helped him sit up, then handed him a glass of water, which Abelard gulped gratefully.
‘That’s about par for the course,’ Simon said. ‘It’ll wear off in a few minutes.’
‘What about the results? Don’t I at least get to know what you found out?’
‘Nothing conclusive, I’m afraid.’ Simon’s expression was guarded. ‘When you came for testing before, you registered as engineer-class. Now you register as artisan-class. I think we would have needed to have you hooked up to the testing equipment when the incident actually took place to be able to get any useful information.’
‘I don’t remember being tested like this when I went to find out my spark level.’ Abelard had completed the personality questionnaire and someone had waved some kind of probe at him and that had been it.
‘Oh, the equipment they use at the Testing Centres for artisan applicants is different to ours. And it’ll have come a long way since it was used on you.’
‘So this was all completely pointless?’ Abelard was disappointed but Simon’s face brightened again.
‘Testing is never pointless! Even finding nothing will always tell us something.’ He slapped Abelard on the shoulder. ‘Besides, there’s still the practical testing session to complete. Come on!’
Simon escorted him out of the training bunker and led him over to a table set up in a depressingly similar way to the one in the factory where he had completed his safety training. Simon put him through his mana manipulation paces for about an hour, occasionally taking notes on a smart-e-fact. At least this time Abelard didn’t damage anything or hurt himself. He thought Mateo would be proud. When they finished Simon came over to where Abelard stood.
‘Your obligations to R&D are officially fulfilled,’ Simon announced with a flourish. ‘My department thanks you for your cooperation.’
‘No problem, as long as I never have to do it again.’
Simon laughed and looked at his chron-e-fact. ‘How about some lunch? Care to join me in the canteen?’
The Head of Research and Development wanted to have lunch with him?
‘Sure. Lead on.’ As they made their way out of the basement, Abelard asked, ‘Were the practical results any more illuminating than whatever you did to me before?’
Simon’s face fell. ‘Not really. As far as I can tell you’re exactly the same as any other artisan. Whatever that rogue post-e did to you, we can’t figure it out from examining you as you are now.’
Abelard had a nasty thought. ‘You’re not going to scoop up some random engineers and subject them to mana surges to try and repeat the phenomenon under controlled conditions, are you?’
Simon’s eyes widened. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? Abelard, you’re a genius! I’ll write a proposal for the Board this afternoon!’ He regarded Abelard’s horrified expression for a couple of seconds, then burst out laughing. ‘Just kidding. While I’d love to do that from a theoretical point of view, the Board would never let me.’ He paused. ‘And of course I would never really consider it since it wouldn’t be safe.’
They made their way up to the canteen and collected some food, Abelard piling his plate high with carbs. This time none of the brain-e-facts even glanced in his direction. Even the ones who served him kept their eyes downcast and did not speak to him.
‘I wanted to ask you about something that happened on Friday,’ Simon said as Abelard was taking his first mouthfuls of food. ‘There was an incident here in the canteen with a Board member and one of the brain-e-facts. I fixed the problem but it’s niggling at me because I couldn’t figure out what caused it. And the Board member, Walter Snyder, mentioned that you were there when it happened.’
‘I’m not sure what I can tell you,’ Abelard said, thinking it would be best to give as little information as possible. ‘Mr Snyder came over to speak to Alessandra Eriksen while we were having breakfast before my safety training. He seemed annoyed about something and one of the brain-e-facts tried to stop him making a scene. I think it just wanted to maintain the peaceful ambience so the people eating weren’t disturbed.’
‘That may be it. The brain-es are supposed to make sure everything runs smoothly throughout the building. It doesn’t explain the name thing though.’
‘Name thing?’
‘Yeah. That particular brain-e had scratched off its identity number and put a name on its chest-plate instead. I couldn’t get it to explain and I can’t imagine where it would have got the idea to do it. Brain-e-facts are designed to follow instructions so they shouldn’t be capable of real independent thought or individualism.’
Fred had not divulged the origins of the brain-e-facts’ new sense of identity, for which Abelard was profoundly grateful. He would have to find Fred and thank him for his discretion. He’d speak to Terry and the other brain-e-facts and recommend they keep a low profile, since he didn’t want them – or him – to get into any more trouble.
‘You said you fixed the problem?’ Abelard prompted.
‘Well, even though I couldn’t find anything wrong with the workings of that particular brain-e-fact, there was obviously something screwy with it. And Snyder was really mad so I had the brain-e dismantled.’
‘Dismantled?’ Abelard choked on a mouthful of pasta, then saw Simon’s surprise at the strength of his reaction and tried to rein in his emotions. ‘Isn’t that rather extreme?’
‘I couldn’t risk it malfunctioning further. Since I couldn’t find the source of the problem, I figured it was just safer to decommission it. It’s only an artefact, albeit a very expensive one. But we have plenty more.’ He gestured over to the buffet table where the brain-e-facts were going about their duties normally. ‘I told the others I wouldn’t brook any aberrant behaviour so hopefully that will be the end of it. I don’t like mysteries where artefacts are concerned though, particularly ones as complex as brain-es. Not much else I can do about it, I suppose, except maybe tighten up on the control circuits for the next production line. We like them to
have a certain amount of autonomy so they can do more complex tasks without direct supervision, but I’d rather restrict their capabilities than risk more problems.’ He shrugged and turned back to his lunch.
Abelard forced down some more of his food but it was tasteless and difficult to swallow. Simon had murdered Fred and it was all Abelard’s fault. When he’d given Terry his name on a whim he’d had no idea what the consequences would be.
He managed a civil farewell when Simon got up to leave, though he felt quite nauseous. He considered trying to find Terry but decided it would likely just cause more trouble if he went off to talk to a brain-e, especially with Simon right there. Instead, he made his way back to Quality Improvement to try to get some work done for the rest of the afternoon but he had trouble concentrating on anything. After he had circled the Quality Improvement office three times, failing to pick anything up from the print-e-fact each time, Tan finally cracked.
‘What on earth is wrong with you today?’
Abelard spun in place to face his colleague, startled by the question.
‘Oh sorry. Just a bit distracted.’ He scrabbled around for some excuse that didn’t relate to brain-e-fact murder. ‘Um, it’s moving day.’
Malcolm looked up from his work. ‘What’s that? Moving day?’ He gazed out of the window. ‘I remember my first artisan flat.’ He smiled, his face suffused with nostalgia. ‘I went from living in my parents’ basement to two bedrooms on the ninth floor of a very snazzy new high rise. That was a good day.’
