by Jay Aspen
I laugh. ‘More than that! Safi adores cats and kittens. Our friends could paste together a mural the size of Kar city-hall with all the kitten-pics she sends out.’
‘And she told you she was worried that there would be a program to hunt and kill wildcats?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your ambition is to be accepted into the Order of Webdancers? And recently you’ve been messaging your friends a lot about this?’
The conversation is helping me fit words to the images crowding into my mind, images requiring––no, demanding to be gestalt-sorted into some form of meaningful relationship.
‘That was the pattern I started seeing! People suddenly getting the feeling that the thing they cherish most is under threat. I think Vander only sees his current illegal trading arrangements as a step towards his real ambition which is to own a grand emporium, like the one his uncle Ravan has on Oceanside plaza. And the other day he was complaining that trading itself was under threat. What I don’t understand is where all this weird information is coming from.’
Alis sighs. ‘Unfortunately I think I do. And, it does link to psy-tech. It’s called dark-news.’
‘Never heard of it.’ I glance at Severin but he looks blank.
Alis doesn’t take her eyes off the screen as she scrolls. ‘Not surprising. It was banned by the first colonists because it wrecked democracy on their homeworld and that eventually damaged the infrastructure so badly they fled here. It started again shortly before the civil war here on Pangaea that I’m sure you’ve debated to death in history classes. And now it seems it’s starting up yet again.’
Severin interrupts. ‘Alis, history and context is all very well, but you’ll have to explain how it actually works. I have no clue what you mean.’
Alis checks her archive again, this time searching through the information she’s managed to collect so far.
‘I can’t see anything that might be a direct reference to Rankin, but someone has managed to infiltrate message-net, and they’ve been data-mining everyone’s texts, pics, and vids. The instant their algorithms detect a user’s pattern, it triggers an item of dark-news telling them their cherished ‘something’ is under threat. Then the fake news-item self-deletes so it can’t be traced. After it has left an emotional imprint.
‘After a while people start repeating these fabricated stories to each other and the algorithms eventually promote them as real stories, even though the faked original has long since disappeared, disguising its source.’
‘You mean all that stuff about the government being corrupt and untrustworthy is all lies?’ I know the answer even as I ask the question. Yes, I’d figured it was lies. What I’m really looking for is reassurance, not least because my father has just moved to Merkaan to take up a new post with the government.
I don’t get any. Alis is candid rather than comforting.
‘This administration is a long way from perfect. But we have laws in place to reform it if enough citizens make the effort to lodge their objections peacefully. A war would be a disaster, not just because of the inevitable slaughter, but the damage to the resonance would be at least as bad as it was in the last war. More people died as a result of the wild fluctuations in the wave than from the fighting itself. The Webdancers barely managed to get things back in balance again, even with all the extra restrictions everyone had to put up with.’
I’m feeling desperate for some good news in all this. ‘But at least we don’t have to worry about those dark-news threats because they’re not true?’
Alis is definitely not in the mood for handing out reassurance this morning.
‘Only for a while. The failings in our administration are more to do with being half-asleep on the job than the disastrous fake plans you spotted on your newsfeed. But you have to remember that a key trick of people pushing out fictional dark-news is that they nearly always accuse their opponents of actions they’re actually planning themselves. Because then, if they get discovered and accused, it just looks like two sides insulting each other. These things almost certainly will happen if we don’t find out who is behind it all. And stop them.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Severin is on his feet, itching to get moving. Alis signals him to sit down.
‘I suspect the one survivor who managed to escape the gang war in Karesh will surface again before long, looking for guns or ayan or the next stage of the plot, depending on which faction he’s associated with. But we can’t wait for that. The only other lead we have right now is Vander’s brother Deron, although I imagine he’s at the bottom of their hierarchy and doesn’t know much about whoever is directing this threat. If I arrest him we lose whatever chance we have to trace back to someone more significant. Unless he chooses to tell us. And I suspect he’ll be too scared of his controllers to say anything.’
My gestalt ability to make connections seems to be getting rapidly better with practice. Another idea emerges.
‘Alis, can my psych-test and contacting my parents wait till tomorrow? Whatever the ayan has inflicted on my synapses has already happened, so maybe I could go over to the university and have a little social-chat with Deron today? If I could do it soon before the ayan wears off, maybe I’ll pick up something in his thoughts that he’d be too scared to confess to anyone.’
Severin glances at the time. ‘Let’s get started. After two months’ surveillance I know exactly which tutorial he’ll be in this morning and when he’ll be finished.’
To my surprise, Alis nods approval. The situation must be serious for her to let us both back on the case after the mess we got involved with back in Kar.
‘Good thinking. Just be sure you don’t make him suspicious, and only use my secure channel for contacting me. If they’ve accessed the newsfeed and the networking post-pages I don’t know if they’re reading individual messaging. Best not to take any chances. Can you work out a convincing story as you walk over to the university?’
‘Sure we can.’ Severin is already heading for the door, and I’m close behind him.
3
Severin’s fingers are on my wrist, taking my pulse. We’re sitting on a wooden bench outside the block of small tutorial rooms, waiting for Deron to come out. The evergreen hedge keeps us mostly concealed and gives off a sweet scent that I’m hoping will help with all this relaxing I’m supposed to be doing. Severin frowns at my result.
‘Hannik, your pulse is still too fast, probably because of your apprehension about this meeting with Deron. Alis says you have to focus past the distraction from the ayan. You’ll give yourself away if you can’t control the urge to speak aloud what you’re picking up from Deron’s thoughts. Try again.’
I focus on my breathing, imagining cool, languid river water flowing through me, slowing my thoughts and my heart rate, helping me concentrate on my carefully prepared story. Severin gently squeezes my arm.
‘Much better. Just hold it at that level and you’ll be fine.’
I know I shouldn’t be exploring new questions but I have to ask.
‘Severin, did we really get past Alis’ interrogation?’
‘Depends what you mean by get past it! She could tell we’d left out a hell of a lot, but until she discovers who is involved at government level, she has very few people she can trust. So she’s taking extra risks. Including letting us get on the case again.’
There’s still a puzzle hovering in my mind. ‘Just as we finished answering her questions, I picked up that she was feeling pleased with us, confident even. Didn’t make sense in the context of her knowing we’d been leaving things out.’
A slow smile spreads across Severin’s face.
‘Yes... actually it does. She’s pleased that we got through a dangerous crisis, stayed alert through an interrogation by an expert, and came up with a coherent plan for what to do next. I’ve been trying to earn that approval the whole time she’s been informally training me in Qat techniques. And finally you helped me get it! Thanks, Hannik.’
He look
s up and tenses. ‘Priority right now is to keep thinking about cool river-water. I just saw Deron coming out of the door. Try to keep him standing on that corner so I can stay out of sight and watch you in case anything goes wrong.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I whisper as I get to my feet, and then walk towards Deron as casually as I can. Now I have time to study him more closely I can see the family resemblance to his older brother. He’s a thinner, paler version of Vander and could almost be handsome but for his constantly shifting eyes that make him look nervous and sly. I call out to him, wishing I could feel as confident as I sound.
‘Hey! You’re Vander’s brother aren’t you?’
He turns towards me and I sense his jolt of surprise as he recognizes me from the morning when I interrupted his row with Vander in the alley behind the Blue Fish café. I wait for images that might tell me if he’s heard about my involvement in the debacle in Karesh.
Nothing, except mild irritation and a thought-fragment that sounds like, ‘Damn! Not another of Vander’s blasted girlfriends!’
Hm. Useful.
I reflect how hurtful that would have been only a few days ago. Now it pales to insignificance after what Vander has just put me through. It’s already hard to remember what I ever saw in his slick character, as if the smart veneer has been wiped away to reveal what he’s really like.
I hastily adapt my plan to fit Deron’s expectations, suddenly understanding that this is exactly the kind of feedback loop the dark-news system uses on a much larger scale.
‘I’m sorry to bother you Deron, but I’m so upset! I just need to ask you about Vander’s other girlfriend. Is it serious between them? I’m sure he’s been seeing her while I’ve been away in Karesh. And I only went there to help him with his market business!’ I manage a fairly convincing sniffle, my senses alert for images the mention of Karesh might produce.
Gun! And a man’s face. Then a beautiful dark-haired woman, laughing. A feeling of intense jealousy––
Deron scowls. ‘I might tell you. What’s it worth?’
I don’t have to fake my flustered confusion. Why hadn’t I thought of this?
‘Um, how much do you want? I haven’t got my card with me. Have you got time to wait while I go home and get it?’
Numbers. Greed. Working out how much he should ask for, without it being so much it raises alarms.
‘Six hundred. Within an hour. I’m busy today.’ Deron half turns away as if I’m too insignificant for him to bother with.
I nearly say ‘three hundred’ which might make him suspicious, being the amount he’s just calculated as being realistic. I control it just in time.
‘I’ll never raise that much in an hour. Two fifty max.’
‘Three.’
‘I can manage two fifty in an hour. I’ll have to borrow the rest. The other fifty by tonight?’
Deron thinks for a moment, then nods. ‘Back here, an hour’s time. Keep me waiting and you’ll get nothing.’
‘Sure.’ I have the presence of mind to walk in the opposite direction from where Severin is waiting, watching me. I meet up with him at the outer gate.
‘Severin, I have to go back to your place to match some images before I forget them. I pretended I hadn’t got my card with me. But I have to be back here within the hour.’
We run back to the apartment. Alis is waiting, checking my pulse again and frowning.
‘No running! I was afraid you’d do that. Drink this.’ She hands me a mug of the sweet herbal melissa-brew Pangaeans usually drink at night as a way of relaxing before bed.
‘Database,’ pants Severin. We head for the small office at the back. Alis pushes sandwiches and more drinks in front of us and connects her holo-vis to the wall screen so we can study it together as we munch hungrily. She flips through images from her archive.
‘That one.’ I hit the pause key, dropping a few sandwich crumbs on the desk.
‘I had a feeling that might be the case,’ grumbles Alis as she brings up a set of image-tiles to fill the screen. ‘This is what I just received from my police contact in Kar. Records of everyone involved in the fight over yesterday’s exchange of merchandise. All dead except for Severin’s prisoner. Who incidentally is refusing to say anything much except that Vander was encroaching on his gang’s territory and had to be stopped.’
Severin lets out a grunt of exasperation. ‘So all that tells us is the fight in the forest had three factions in it instead of two. Deron’s accomplices in the gun trade and two competing drug gangs.’
I groan as I stab a finger on a screen-image of one of the corpses now residing in the Kar mortuary.
‘Worse. That’s the man I saw in Deron’s mind. So Deron’s contact is now dead and we’re no further forward. Severin’s prisoner is the thug who attacked me and was with the gang trying to kill Vander a couple of days ago. At least now we know why. I can’t be sure, but I get the feeling that Vander isn’t actually involved in the ‘let’s start a civil war’ plot. Not before I went to Karesh, anyhow. I think he just wants to make money to get his business started, even if it is illegal.’ I feel the chill of disappointment that I’ve not managed to produce anything useful. ‘That leaves Vander’s girlfriend. Who may be one of several.’
‘Hey.’ Severin squeezes my hand. ‘Don’t keep beating yourself up over getting taken in by Vander. We all make mistakes and from what you told me he sounds like a very plausible character.’
‘Thanks.’ It does make me feel better but I still think that particular mistake is probably unfinished business waiting to be put right.
Alis runs through the photos of all the women in her archive but none of them match the image I picked up from Deron. I’m about to turn away and give up when it suddenly occurs to me that we’ve been looking in the wrong place.
‘Wait. Deron and Vander hate each other so they probably stay away from their respective social scenes as much as they can. If Deron is jealous of Vander and wants this girl for himself, he probably knows her from his own social circle, which is probably linked to the university. Alis, have you got access to the university records?’
Within seconds, images of first year students are being scanned across the screen.
‘There!’ I hit the pause key again, reading out the name under the photo through a mouthful of cheese and salad sandwich. ‘Talaya val Laveran.’ I try not to get over-confident. ‘Of course she could be just a pretty student who thinks Vander is wonderful and knows nothing about his underworld connections.’
‘Or she could be the key to the person behind this plot. the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for.’ Severin glances at the time. ‘Come on, we’re going to have to run flat out to make your meeting with Deron back on campus.’
‘No!’ Alis lays a restraining hand on my shoulder. ‘No more running till your system’s completely clean of ayan again. I’m feeling bad enough about postponing your psych-test but this situation is getting serious. You’re right there’s nothing more we can do for you, whatever the test tells us. Except to make sure you keep your metabolism low. I’m tempted to simply lock you in your room, but I know you’ll just get more agitated and restless and make things worse.’ She holds out a stumpy vehicle-key. ‘Severin, take the wasp-jet.’
Severin takes it without comment but I notice the look of amazement on his face. He runs out into the passageway and I hear him pounding up the stairs two at a time.
‘Hannik, it’s on the second level, first door on the left,’ calls Alis. ‘Don’t run. He’ll have it ready to go by the time you catch up.’
I break into a run the instant I’m round the corner and Alis can’t see me. I open the first door on the second level and find myself in a bare garage containing a tiny streamlined air shuttle that looks as if it’s stuck to the floor like an elongated limpet.
Severin is fiddling with the controls and the thing starts to give off a low hum.
‘Get in!’ He points briefly to the seat behind him before turning back to his contr
ols. The wide window shutters at the end of the room slide open like doors, revealing the roofs of a few low buildings skirting the park and the blue-grey sea beyond. Alis must have spent years setting up her apartment as an emergency base in case her official HQ got compromised.
Like it has now.
The craft’s clear plas-resin hood is open, revealing a narrow space for two cramped seats resting back to back. Severin seems to assume I know how to get into the thing so I take a chance I won’t cause any damage, jump onto the flared edge and hop inside. I scramble into the wrap-around seat and click the safety strap around my chest.
It all feels very unfamiliar. The few aircraft that service Pangaea are mainly used for emergencies because too much tec disturbs the planetary resonance––and in any case most people find the speed of air travel makes them lose their resonance-attunement, negating any gains in journey time while they readjust to a different frequency after they arrive. Of course, if you’re being rushed to hospital for an emergency op, you’re more willing to put up with that sort of thing.
Severin closes the plas-resin hood and eases the tiny craft to hover, the hum disappearing into silence as we start to move towards the exit. I look around the cramped space, trying to make sense of the levers and dials.
‘How come you can fly this?’
Severin increases the speed and the wasp-jet shoots out of the opening. ‘I learned to fly reconnaissance shuttles when I volunteered as a ranger. These are a bit smaller and––oops––’
I try to remember where my stomach is supposed to be.
‘Chaos! Warn me next time you decide you want to practice sideways rolls!’
Severin gets the craft back upright again. ‘Sorry. I was about to say that wasp-jets are a bit less stable. That’s why up till now Alis has refused to let me anywhere near it.’
