‘Is there a problem?’ Jules Caillebot asked, still sitting in the blue armchair but no longer in the relaxed pose of a few minutes earlier.
‘Not from my end,’ Thalia said. ‘It all went like a dream. Thanks for your cooperation.’ Maybe Muang had been calling her to inform her of a temporary comms blackout, she thought. It happened sometimes. Nothing to worry about. ‘You know what? Now that we’re done, maybe I will take a walk in some of the gardens after all.’
‘Abstraction is down,’ Caillebot said quietly.
Thalia felt the first itch of wrongness. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘We have no abstraction. You said it would be off-line for a few microseconds, too short to notice. But it’s still down.’ His voice became firmer and louder. ‘Abstraction is down, Prefect. Abstraction is down.’
Thalia shook her head. ‘You’re mistaken. It can’t be down.’
‘There is no abstraction,’ Paula Thory said, standing up from her own chair. ‘We’re out of contact, Prefect. Something appears to have gone wrong.’
‘The system ran an audit on itself. It confirmed that abstraction had only been interrupted for an instant. The system doesn’t make mistakes.’
‘Then why were you here in the first place, if it wasn’t to correct a failing in the apparatus?’ asked Caillebot.
‘Maybe it’s just us,’ said Broderick Cuthbertson. His mechanical owl twitched its head in all directions, as if following the flight of an invisible wasp.
‘Your bird’s confused,’ Cyrus Parnasse said. ‘I’m guessing it depends on abstraction to orient itself.’
Cuthbertson comforted his creation with a finger-stroke. ‘Easy, boy.’
‘Then it’s at least everyone - everything - in this building,’ Thory said, colour draining from her cheeks. ‘What if it’s not just the building? What if we’re looking at a major outage across the whole campus?’
‘Let’s look out of the windows,’ said Meriel Redon. ‘We can see half of Aubusson from here.’
They were paying no attention to Thalia. She was just a detail in the room. For now. She walked behind them as they stood from their chairs and sofas and stools - those who weren’t already standing - and dashed to the row of portholes, two or three of them crowding behind each circular pane.
‘I can see people down in the park,’ said a clean-shaven young man whose name Thalia didn’t remember. He wore an electric-blue suit with frilled black cuffs. ‘They’re behaving oddly. Clumping together all of a sudden, as if they want to talk. Some of them are starting to run for the exits. They’re looking up, at us.’
‘They know there’s a problem,’ Thory said. ‘It’s no wonder they’re looking up at the polling core. They’re wondering what the hell’s happening.’
‘There’s a train stopped on the line,’ said a woman in a flame-red dress, standing at another porthole. ‘It’s the other side of the nearest window band. Whatever this is, it isn’t local. It isn’t just happening to us, or to the museum.’
‘There’s a volantor,’ someone else said. ‘It’s making an emergency landing on the roof of the Bailter Ziggurat. That’s two whole bands towards the leading cap. Nearly ten kilometres!’
‘It’s the whole habitat,’ Thory said, as if she’d just seen a fearful omen. ‘The whole of House Aubusson, all sixty kilometres of it. Eight hundred thousand people have just lost abstraction for the first time in their lives.’
‘This can’t be happening,’ Thalia whispered.
The knife was still hard against Dreyfus’s throat. He cursed himself for not donning the helmet when he’d had the chance. He tried to reason that the woman would have killed him by now if that was her intention, but he could think of a multitude of reasons why she might want to keep him talking now and kill him later.
‘What year is it?’ she asked, as if the question had just popped into her head.
‘What year?’
The pressure of the knife increased. ‘Is there a problem with my diction?’
‘No,’ Dreyfus said hastily. ‘Not at all. The year is two thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven. Why do you ask?’
‘Because I’ve been inside this place a very long time.’
‘Long enough to lose track of the year?’
‘Long enough to lose track of everything. I had my suspicions, though.’ He caught a note of proud defiance in her voice. ‘I wasn’t so very far off the mark.’
He’d still not seen her face, or any part of her save the gauntleted hand holding the knife. ‘Are you a member of the Nerval-Lermontov family?’ he asked.
‘Is that who you are looking for?’
‘I’m not looking for anyone in particular. I’m a policeman. I’m investigating a crime. My inquiries brought me to this asteroid.’
‘Alone?’
‘I came in a ship, with my deputy. We were attacked during our approach and the ship was damaged. We could have limped back to Panoply, but we decided to see if we could use the rock to get a message to them quicker. That’s what my deputy’s doing now. I also wanted to see what was worth attacking us to protect.’
The knife scratched against his skin. It felt cold. He wondered if it had drawn blood yet.
‘You’ve seen it now,’ the woman said, obviously meaning the ship in which they were floating. ‘Tell me what you make of it.’
‘It’s a Conjoiner spacecraft. That’s as much as I was able to tell from outside. I came aboard and I’ve seen this.’ He meant the room full of dismembered sleepers, the ones that the woman said she had been eating. ‘That’s all. Now are you going to tell me what this means?’
‘Try moving,’ she said. ‘Move an arm or a leg. I won’t stop you.’
Dreyfus tried, but although he could move his limbs, they encountered stiff resistance against the interior of his suit. He was effectively paralysed.
‘I can’t.’
‘I’ve reached into your suit and disabled its motor and communication functions. I can turn them on and off as easily as I can blink. With the suit immobilised like that, you won’t be able to move or remove it. You’ll starve here and die. It would take a long time and it would not be pleasant.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘So that you understand, Prefect. So that you grasp that I have complete control over you.’ The pressure from the knife eased. ‘So that you understand that I don’t need this to kill you.’
Her hand pulled away.
‘You must be a Conjoiner,’ he said. ‘No one else could perform a trick like that.’ When she offered neither confirmation nor denial, he said, ‘You must be from this ship. Am I right?’
‘So you are not completely incapable of deductive reasoning. For one of the retarded, you must be quite bright.’
‘I’m just a prefect trying to do my job. Are you being held captive here?’
‘What do you think?’ she asked, with acid sarcasm.
‘Let’s establish some ground rules. I’m not your enemy. If someone is keeping you here against your will, I want to find out who they are and why they’re doing it. We’re on the same side. We should be able to trust each other.’
‘Shall I tell you why I have difficulty trusting you, Prefect? A man like you came here already. He saw what was being done to us and did nothing.’
‘What do you mean, a man like me?’
‘He wore the same kind of suit.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything.’
‘I mean exactly the same kind. If a prefect is what you are, then this man was a prefect as well.’
‘That’s not possible,’ Dreyfus said. But even as he spoke he recalled the link that Sparver had found connecting this rock to Panoply. Could someone else have come here, making independent inquiries? Perhaps. But if so, how could Jane Aumonier not have known about it?
‘I saw him myself. There was no mistake. I could not see into his head, and I can’t see into yours. Your kind never carry neural implants, do they?’
His own voice
sounded distant and strangulated. ‘This man . . . does he come on his own, or are there others?’
‘Only the man comes in person. But there are other visitors.’
‘You’re confusing me.’
‘That is because they confuse me. I know when the man comes because I sense the electromagnetic noise from the opening and closing of airlocks. I sense his suit, although I can never get close enough to paralyse him. But the others don’t arrive like that. Suddenly they are simply here, like a change in the wind. One in particular makes her presence very clear to me. She likes to walk in our heads, as if she is taking a stroll through an ornamental garden. She toys with us. She takes pleasure in our confinement, in our distress.’
‘You’re talking about an artificial intelligence, then. A beta-level simulation, something like that. A simulacrum that looks and acts like a real person, but has no interior life.’
‘No,’ the Conjoiner said carefully. ‘I am talking about something vastly more than that. A mind like a thundercloud, brimming with terrible lightning, terrible darkness. It was never a beta-level simulation. It has the structure of human consciousness, but warped, magnified, perverted. Like a mansion gone wrong, a great house turned evil.’
‘Does she have a name?’
‘One,’ the Conjoiner affirmed. ‘She professes to hide her true identity from us, but I have seen through her concealments. She is too vain to hide herself perfectly. She desires to be known, I think.’
Dreyfus hardly dared ask. ‘Tell me the name.’
‘She calls herself Aurora.’
‘I made no mistake,’ Thalia said. ‘I swear I did everything by the book.’
Thory’s eyes had shrunk to nasty little dots. ‘Then maybe the book is wrong. Every second that we don’t have abstraction will cost our standing with the lobbyists. You have no idea of the financial hurt I’m talking about. Each and every one of us is a stakeholder in Aubusson society. Damage the habitat’s finances and you damage us. That means me, personally.’
Thalia’s voice had become absurdly timid and small. She felt like a schoolgirl being required to explain late homework. ‘I don’t know what the problem is.’
‘Then perhaps you should start investigating!’ Thory glared at her with venomous intent. ‘You broke this, Prefect. It’s your responsibility to fix it. Why don’t you start, instead of just standing there like a petrified tree?’
‘I . . . don’t have access,’ Thalia said. Under her tunic she could feel a cold line of sweat trickling down her back. ‘They gave me a six-hundred-second window. I used it. There’s no way back in again.’
‘Then you’d better think of something else,’ Caillebot said. ‘And be fast about it.’
‘There’s nothing else to do. I can run some superficial tests on the pillar . . . but without core access, I can’t see into its guts. And this has to be a fundamental problem, something really deep-rooted. ’
It was Parnasse’s turn to speak. His voice was a low rumble, yet everyone listened to him. ‘They only gave you a single one-time pad, did they, girl?’
‘Just the one,’ Thalia said.
‘Then she’s right,’ he said, turning to the others. ‘I may not be a prefect, but I know a thing or two about the way these things work. She won’t get in again without a new pad.’
‘Then call home and get one,’ Thory said, hissing out the words.
‘Nice trick, without abstraction access,’ Parnasse replied. He looked at Thalia. ‘True, isn’t it? Your own comms piggyback abstraction services. You’d need it to be up and running before you can call Panoply.’
Thalia swallowed hard as the truth sank home. ‘That’s right. We depend on abstraction protocols as well. I’m out of contact with home.’
‘Try it, just to be sure,’ said Parnasse.
Thalia tried it. She attempted to return the call from Muang, the one she had ignored during the upgrade.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, when the bracelet failed to connect. ‘I can’t see Panoply. I can’t even see my ship.’
‘Oh, that’s clever!’ Thory said. ‘You gut us open and then you can’t even call for help! Whose clever bloody idea was that?’
‘It’s never caused us a problem before. If we take abstraction down, it’s on our terms.’
‘Until today,’ Thory said.
The mood of the gathering was swerving somewhere unpleasant. They’d been all smiles until she took their sweets away.
‘Look,’ Thalia said, trying to strike the right conciliatory note, ‘this is unacceptable, and you have my sincere apology for any inconvenience I may have caused. But I promise you it won’t last long. If the abstraction blackout is as wide as it looks, then that means an entire habitat has just dropped off the network. Not just any old hermit colony, either, but House Aubusson. You’ve already told me that the lobbyists are in almost constant contact with you. How long do you think it will take before they notice your absence? Probably not more than a few minutes. Maybe a few minutes more before they act on that absence and start calling Panoply, to find out what’s gone wrong.’ She took a deep breath. ‘My bosses will take this very, very seriously, even given the current crisis. At high-burn, a Heavy Technical Squad could be knocking on the door inside forty-five minutes. They’ll have new pads, maybe even an emergency field core, everything necessary to get abstraction back up and running. Honestly, you could be back on-line inside an hour, ninety minutes at the max.’
‘You talk as if ninety minutes is nothing,’ Thory said. ‘Maybe it isn’t for you. I know how it is for prefects. You’ve never experienced true abstraction. You have no idea what losing it means to us. Perhaps if your bosses had sent someone more experienced, someone who at least looked as if they knew what they were doing—’
Thalia felt something inside her snap, like a wishbone tearing in two. ‘Maybe I don’t know what losing abstraction means to you. But I’ll tell you this. A few days ago I was part of a lockdown party. It turned nasty. We had to euthanise. So don’t you dare talk to me as if I’m some wet-behind-the-ears apprentice who’s never got her hands dirty.’
‘If you think—’ Paula Thory began.
‘Wait,’ Thalia said. ‘I’m not done. I’m not remotely done. Since we got back from that lockdown - which was regarded as a successful operation, incidentally, despite the casualties - my boss has had to deal with the murder of more than nine hundred innocent people, not including the crew of a ship who were butchered and burnt for their perceived part in that crime, but who were in all likelihood innocent. My boss is still on that case. His boss is doing her best just to keep her head in one piece. The rest of Panoply’s trying to stop the whole Glitter Band sliding into war against the Ultras, while bracing itself for the civil war that’s probably going to follow when we find out who really torched Ruskin-Sartorious.’ Thalia stiffened the set of her jaw, making sure she looked at each member of the party in turn. ‘Maybe that isn’t a typical week in the life of Panoply, people, but it happens to be the week we’re dealing with right now. Perhaps you think the loss of ninety minutes of abstraction measures up to what’s already on our table. Fine if you do, that’s your call. But I’m here to tell you that, as far as I’m concerned, you are a bunch of self-pitying sonsofbitches who at this point in time are doing pretty fucking well just to be breathing.’
No one said anything. They were just looking at her, mouths open, as if she had frozen them all into silence.
Thalia smiled tightly. ‘Nothing personal, though. I guess I’d be pretty upset if someone had taken my toys from the pram as well. I’m just saying that right now we could all use a degree of perspective. Because this is not the end of the world.’
She relaxed her stance just enough to let them know that the dressing down was over, for the moment.
‘You,’ she said, pointing at the woman in the flame-red dress. ‘That train you saw earlier. Is it still stopped?’
‘Yes,’ the woman said, stammering out her answer. ‘I can still s
ee it. It’s not going anywhere.’
‘I was hoping we could take the train back to the endcap. As I said, help’ll be on its way soon enough regardless, but if it would make any of you happier, I could use the transmitter on my ship to call Panoply.’
‘Would that work?’ asked a chastened Caillebot.
‘Absolutely. Since it’s outside Aubusson, it won’t have been affected by the abstraction outage. Looks like we’re stuck here for the duration, though, unless any of you knows another way to get to the docking hub.’
‘I’m not seeing any aerial traffic,’ said a man with a strangely comedic face. ‘All flights must have been grounded along with that volantor.’
‘We could walk,’ Parnasse said. ‘It’s less than ten kilometres to the endcap.’
‘Are you serious?’ Paula Thory asked.
‘No one’s saying you’d have to come with us.’ He nodded in Thalia’s direction. ‘I think the girl’s right: once word gets out, they’ll send help. But like she said, this is a sticky time for Panoply. We might be looking at a fair bit longer than an hour, or ninety minutes. Could be two hours, could be three, even longer.’
‘So what does walking accomplish?’ Thory asked.
Parnasse shrugged his broad farmer’s shoulders. He’d rolled up his sleeves, revealing hairy red arms knotted with muscle. ‘Not much, except it means we’d stand a chance of meeting the specialists when they come through the door. At least Thalia could fill them in on exactly what she was doing before the system went tits-up.’ He glanced at her. ‘Right, girl?’
‘It might save some time,’ she said. ‘If we can get to the hub, I can also talk to Panoply and give them some technical background before the squad arrives.’ The hypothetical squad, she reminded herself. The one she could not say for sure would actually be on its way. ‘Either way, it’s no worse than staying here. I can’t do a thing for the core now.’
‘People out there,’ Parnasse said, ‘are going to be just a tad upset if they see a Panoply uniform. You could be looking at an eight-hundred-thousand-strong lynch mob.’
The Revelation Space Collection Page 393
