Mantivore Prey

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Mantivore Prey Page 18

by S. J. Higbee


  I nodded and smiled, acting the gracious Overlord, a part of the job I had hated, but now resolved to master. After all, with The Council at our back, we had a shot at making real changes in Arcadia. Scanning the audience, I suddenly caught sight of my previous boss, Elda Headcook, standing with her arms folded, evidently underwhelmed at being dragged out of her kitchen to listen to some Uppie Brarian. So that answers that question. This crowd were rounded up and herded here, whether they wanted to come or not. It was up to me to make it worth their while.

  I took a breath, discarded all the fine-sounding nothings I was going to say and instead, spoke from the heart, “Greetings. I won’t keep you proning around while I drone on about a load of Uppie fanciness, given we’ve a noonblast on our tail and you’ll likely not get paid for being here,” I paused while hoots and laughter rang out. Sensing the High-ups behind me fidgeting, I continued, “Just want to say that me and The Council mightily appreciate the hard work you all do. I know it’s a smelly, dangerous slog to turn around the bog-boxes and I’m here to tell you that one of the reasons we pitched up is to sort out the Nodes so the Company can run the kinda botware they got in Gloriosa. It should make your lives easier and help to hit those roaching targets. And before you start frothing – nah – jobs shouldn’t be lost as right now, there’s work stacking up.”

  Not that I needed to remind my audience. It was common knowledge that several large warehouses on the outskirts of town were filled with waiting bog-boxes that Acinosclean couldn’t handle, partly because it was smelly and dangerous work, so wasn’t on anyone’s list of favourite careers. And partly because the Company lost a steady stream of employees through accidents and sickness. Not that this situation featured on any official records, but living so close to Pistacia, Cnicus was subject to all those shiny recruitment Bullits from Acinosclean, desperate to hire folks used to field-slogging in brutal heat.

  “And isn’t it rainy that the Uppiest of the Uppies in Gloriosa Prime is one of our own!” shouted one of the managers from behind me. “Three cheers for Her Ladyship!”

  I’d thought their initial greeting had been enthusiastic, but the roar now ringing round the enclosed space suddenly had my eyes prickling. These mucky folks, who’d been my former colleagues, were now gazing at me as if I’d just walked out of the Mothership promising a free passage back to Earth. After smiling and waving till my face ached, it was a relief when Helston gave the order for the guards to close up, when several of the directors decided to escort our party to the Company Nodery. I soon discovered why.

  “These bots, Your Ladyship, are we talking the Industrial RF100 model?” asked a shining-eyed Uppie.

  “I’m afraid Her Ladyship can’t possibly make that sort of judgement until we’ve seen the Node nexus here and ascertained the health and strength of the organi-packs,” interrupted Master Trask.

  “I’d just like to say that we’ve followed The Council’s instructions regarding the Node to the letter,” added another High-Up, sounding a lot less bouncy.

  “And what does that mean?” snapped one of his colleagues.

  “You’ve all been happy enough to take the revenue we’ve earned using this strategy,” continued Mr Unbouncy, now making a show of looking at his parch. He stopped. “My abject repentances, but I see I’m urgently needed elsewhere. It’s been a solid honour, Your Ladyship.” He performed a jerky bow and scampered away.

  If his sudden urge to be elsewhere means what I think it does, this lot will be lucky to power the housebot mini-15. With a bad feeling bubbling in my gut, we continued the rest of the journey down spotless marbled corridors, across a covered courtyard filled with plants I was more used to seeing growing in Gloriosa and into a building that didn’t have marble anything. In fact, in comparison to the lavish furnishings and building materials of the rest of the complex, this one put me in mind of the workers’ apartments rather than the Main Reception.

  Two Brarians were waiting by the door, visibly shaking as they bowed and stuttered their greetings. I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, once I had a chance to look at the organi-packs lining the Node. While they were a long way from being in prime condition, they weren’t in the desperate state I expected to find in the public Nodery.

  However, their response was curiously muted as I approached and placed my hands on the tanks. Only one tank seemed fully functioning and even that appeared sluggish. There wasn’t the rainbow variation of colour, either. Only a few flickers of bluish green… Where are the yellows, pinks, swirls of oranges? In fact, where are there swirls of anything? Just this tepid burbling. And while the smell is sweet enough, so no infection or rot, there isn’t the rich earthiness I’m used to in both Cnicus and the Prime Nodery.

  Master Trask tutted as he glared at the wall of tanks, before he swung around to face the taller Brarian busy staring at the floor, his companion cowering behind him.

  My initial relief evaporated faster than a puddle in the noonblast, though I still couldn’t work out exactly what was so wrong.

  “How old?” Master Trask snapped.

  I was cravenly glad not to be the object of his evident fury, for all his age and citified Gloriosan ways.

  The Brarian tried to brazen it out. “Upwards of forty years old, near as I can gather—”

  “I’m not talking about the bank of established tanks. I’m asking about the age of your youngest seedlings. These ones!” He jabbed at the organi-packs which didn’t so much as flicker, unlike the others.

  “Six months old,” the Brarian mumbled to his feet.

  “Why are the packs so uniform?” asked Denzel. “When we’re growing on replacement datastrands, they tend to develop at varying rates, depending at how quickly they can bond and merge with surrounding info-streams.”

  “Because these aren’t replacement strands. These are whole tanks being seeded, before being info-forced and speed-grown. Aren’t I right, Mister Brarian?” Master Trask quivered with outraged disapproval.

  Why is the Company’s data-loss so disastrously extreme? I tried to envision what could have caused such a catastrophe – and couldn’t, biting my lip at the thought of losing all those established tanks and hoping they hadn’t suffered too much.

  The Brarian shrugged. “It’s not like a village. The Company only really needs to keep track of employees and suchlike.”

  He’s not remotely concerned about the data loss or the death of the tank.

  “Unless you want to use botware,” said Denzel. “Or do anything other than file names.”

  The excited Uppie was now frowning. “What’s wrong with our Node?”

  Master Trask glanced across at me, but as I kept quiet, he continued, “You know the Node is an organic method of storing facs, written and spoken, vids, stories, games…”

  One of the Uppies rolled his eyes as another sighed.

  Excited shifted irritably. “Everyone knows that!”

  “So as the packs continue to grow, links are made between info-ites—”

  “Info-ites?” asked Excited.

  “An item of knowledge or fact,” said Master Trask. “And the older the packs become, the stronger and faster they operate. An organi-pack several decades old will be able to outperform one a few years old. Unless they are shockingly neglected or abused, they don’t die, although corrupted data can cause damage.”

  Can it, now?

  “And when that happens, that data-strand can be regenerated by carefully grafting a sliver from another Node. But that’s the only time any cross-cultivation from one Node to another should be necessary.”

  Excited, now looking anything but, scowled at his downcast Brarians. “Yet you’re saying these tanks are only a few months old and they’ve been completely reseeded. Does that mean they’re useless?”

  Master Trask prowled up and down in front of them. “Looking at them, I can’t imagine they are yet mature enough to handle anything in the way of data. So yes, it will be at least three or four more months b
efore they’ll be functional.”

  The Uppies gaped at the large stretch of wall where the immature tanks were quietly flickering. “So you’re saying that in the whole of this Node…” Excited gestured at them. “…only this section here are doing any work?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” confirmed Master Trask. “And it gets worse. Those established tanks are also in trouble.”

  “No, that’s not so! We’re really, really careful!” protested the roacher who had no business calling himself a Brarian.

  “How can you possibly be careful?” roared Denzel, his face red with fury. “You must be hacking right into the info-stem itself to get sufficient datastrands to seed every one of these tanks!”

  “And what does that mean?” asked No-Longer-Excited.

  I didn’t recall moving towards the tanks, but here I was. Palms pressed against the transparent walls, shivering with outraged anger – willing these trapped beings to heal, as I tried not to hear Master Trask’s explanation. I don’t want to listen to this. You poor abused babies. I’m so very, very sorry…

  “It means that your Brarians aren’t tending your Node to maximise Company efficiency, they’re seeding organi-packs on an industrial scale, presumably to sell on. I can’t see any other scenario where two-thirds of your capacity would suddenly stop functioning all at the same time. Or where Brarians would consider butchering your existing Node, other than for financial gain,” announced Master Trask.

  In the sudden silence, there was a sudden bubbling gust from the tank I was touching, punctuated by sobs from the smaller Brarian.

  “I-I tried to s-say… It wasn’t r-right. But-but I was…” she broke off, weeping harder.

  As well she might with the prospect of being Collared looming over her. I found it a mighty struggle not to join in, as I rested my forehead against another of the established tanks, where an aching lack of response told me that ‘mutilated’ just about summed up what was going on here. “I’m guessing that the seeded tanks are headed for the public Noderies in the town,” I said, in a hard voice that sounded far too much like Mother on a bad day. “Who authorised such a move?”

  The tall Brarian blanched and took a step backward. “Your Ladyship, I beg you… We weren’t given a choice. I was only following orders! I didn’t want to do this, why would I? But Brarian Major Adurn said we had to follow The Council’s mandate. Or we’d be out on the street.”

  “What can we do to fix this?” asked No-Longer-Excited.

  “Obviously we need to replace our Brarians!” snapped another Uppie.

  “Yes, but what else? There must be something. We could double – no, triple our output if our Node could handle botware to help our workers, Your Ladyship,” said another grim-faced manager.

  It’ll take years for this Nodery to be able to fulfil anything other than the most basic functions. It’s been effectively crippled. I turned to look at the expectant faces ringing us, numbly aware that if we were going to establish anything like a powerbase in Acinos, we needed these people’s support. And after making a wet-wittedly rash promise in my speech, I’d better come up with some sort of solution that included industrial-strength bots.

  “Leave this with us,” I said, glancing across at Master Trask. “Now we’re aware of the extent of the problem, we’ll try to sort something out.” We’re probably going to discover Nodes like this all over Acinos.

  “And don’t use any of the remedial mix from Reseda, it’ll kill off your seedlings,” added Denzel.

  “I said that’s what’s killing them! But no, you wouldn’t listen, would you?” hissed the young Brarian at her taller partner.

  He scowled down at her, muttering in a savage undertone that I wasn’t meant to hear, “We’ve done nothing wrong! Just followed the Brarian Major’s orders, is all. So you can stop with the feeb-witted bawling and keep it zipped if you know what’s good for you.”

  I turned to Master Trask. “I think, in the circumstances, we’ll cut short our visit and return to Cnicus.” This situation needs fixing. Fast. Wasting time gawking at ailing tanks isn’t going to sort anything and I’m liable to say or do something unhelpful. Like smack one of those roaching Brarians responsible for this mess. And pulling a stunt like that wasn’t the way to go. Even if the fickle-fingered nemmets were guilty of keeping Acinos Province at subsistence levels, while the Gloriosans enjoyed luxuries the average field-slogger couldn’t even dream of.

  As I moved back to the wall of tanks to reassure them I’d be returning and that I loved them very much, they all flared into life, some even managing to bubble.

  The female Brarian gave a choked cry. “They haven’t done that since…” She fell to her knees, once more weeping. “I’m so sorry, Your Ladyship! So very, very sorry, I didn’t know what we’d done was so wrong till it was too late.”

  “If you really want to help, then you ask them for forgiveness. It’s them you’ve hurt,” I said, stepping back as she attempted to grab my robe. “Put your hands on the tanks and tell them how much you wish you’d done it differently. And then look after them. We’ll be sending you instructions on what to do.”

  The other Brarian stared at the tanks, wide-eyed. “Your Ladyship… How’d you even get them to do that?”

  “You’re in the presence of a Nodemaster – that’s how, you undeserving wretch!” snapped Master Trask. “And you’d better follow our treatment plan when we send it as if your life depended upon it.”

  It was a struggle to remain patient during the protracted leave-taking, as each of the Uppies had something longwinded and pointless to say about the blistered situation, while my leaden grief at the organi-packs’ fate, along with the terror of one Brarian and gritted defiant fear of the other hummed around the Nodery, infusing all the tanks with much-needed energy.

  Wish I could stay to help heal them! But I couldn’t. Not anymore. It wasn’t my job.

  *

  Once the flyer was back up in the air and released from the landing beam, I broke the grim silence ringing around the small space. “I knew the Public Noderies were badly misused, but I’d no idea such shoddy dealings were going on at Acinoclean,” I pushed down my grief. Now wasn’t the time to wring my hands over their fate, now was the time to try and fix it.

  “We all knew The Council had sanctioned such practices within Acinos, of course. Overlord Trislen had been insistent that there should be what he called a ‘dead zone’ around Cnicus to prevent Osmar from being able to use the Node to effect his escape.” Master Trask looked ill. “What none of the leading Brarians appreciated was that Trislen meant the term to be literal and had a willing accomplice in the form of Brarian Major Adurn.”

  Our flyer took a sweeping, zig-zag course to maximise our coverage, while Denzel monitored any calls that were directed out into The Arids, or Reseda. And just as a distant dust pall indicated we had nearly arrived back in Cnicus, a harried voice sliced through the heavy silence prevailing in the cabin.

  “Brarian Major! Calling Brarian Major, are you there? You’ll know who this is from – just to warn you – a certain entitled person came visiting and immediately worked out what happened. Jer know she’s a Nodemaster, Brarian Major? Figured I owed you this call, and then we’re quits. Cos I’m gonna be following all the new orders coming through, given I’m likely to be Collared otherwise.”

  “He’s too wet-witted to even encrypt his message,” commented Denzel.

  I shook my head. “I reckon he knows this call is monitored, right enough. He’s sending us a message, too. Wants us to know how frightened he is and that he’s up for changing sides.”

  Master Trask shot me a sharp stare. “With respect, Your Ladyship, we can’t be seen to tolerate such outrageous practices against the Node nexus. These people should be made an example of.”

  “With respect, Master Trask, if we start stomping all over frightened Brarians guilty of carrying out Adurn’s instructions all over Acinos, we’ll just make enemies of a bunch of folks who shoul
d be on our side. Let’s make an example of Adurn, instead. Then put in place a retraining programme making the welfare of the Nodes the main objective.” I said.

  Denzel's eyes grew round and my whole entourage seemed to hold its breath as Master Trask glared at me. For once very relieved at having to wear those goggles, I held his gaze for what seemed like a sun-slagged century.

  Until Master Trask finally nodded. “Very well, Your Ladyship.”

  The pent tension was abruptly broken when Denzel called out, “And there it is – another encrypted message – which I’m tracing to… there’s the destination. At last!” However, his elation faded as he leaned over the map before looking up, evidently puzzled. “I am matching the site with an overlay of The Arids and there’s no settlement or even a hamlet anywhere nearby.”

  “Shiny work, Denzel!” I exclaimed, my voice muffled as I submitted to Madam Stylist’s attentions before we landed back in Cnicus. “Don't worry about working out exactly where it is. There’s plenty of folks in the village who’ll be able to tell us.”

  In the event, it was some time before I gave the whole business any thought, because as I stepped onto the ladder, I heard a gloriously familiar voice calling up to me.

  “Seth!” I squealed, scrambling back down, careless of my robes, my hair and any decorum at all. Next minute, I was hugging him. It felt like coming home. It was a rain shower in the noonblast, feeling his body against mine and his muscled arms around me as I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent. Before becoming aware of a chorus of cheers and applause breaking out around us, even though we were right on top of the noonblast and the heat was like a furnace. Not that’ll crip Seth. He used to work in this.

  He let me go in the same instant I started to pull away, overcome with sudden embarrassment that our affection for each other was so very public. Though his hand caught my fingers and didn't let go as we grinned at one another.

 

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