The Dreaming

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Yes,” Halran said. “Living Dream’s central fane on Anagaska was built in Kuhmo; he was here to dedicate it.”

  “Interesting,” Paula mused.

  “You think someone’s going to full-clone him?”

  “Why else would you steal his mind?” Paula said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Investigator. And I’d still like those results as they come in.” She turned and started to walk out of the vault.

  “That’s it?” Halran asked.

  Paula halted, tipping her head to fix the investigator with a level stare. “Unless you have something else to add.”

  “What about Telfer?”

  “Good luck hunting him down.”

  “Are you going to help us?”

  “I won’t put any obstacles in your way, political or otherwise.” She left the vault, leaving Halran staring at his team in confusion and indignation.

  ***

  Paula walked out of the administration block and glanced round at the forest. The air blasts had produced superficial damage, most of the clinic’s buildings were still intact, and while the larger trees had been toppled there were still enough younger ones to maintain the forest once the dead trunks had been cleared away. A police cordon extended for several hundred yards, with uniformed officers reinforcing the patrolbots. Clinic ground staff were working with contractors and forestrybots to clear the worst of the damage. Little curls of smoke were drifting upward from the blackened ground where fires had burned for a couple of hours during the night before being extinguished.

  She didn’t pause as her field effect scanned round, but two of the contractor crew were red tagged by her u-shadow. Both of them were shielded, utilizing sophisticated deflection techniques only available to high-grade biononics. Hers, of course, were even more advanced. They were keeping their distance from the cordon, but her eyes managed to zoom in and snatch a facial image. Her u-shadow produced a cross reference for both of them in less than a second. Once upon a time, about a thousand years ago, Paula would have confronted them there and then. These days she liked to think she’d mellowed somewhat, although in truth it was more advantageous to let them think she hadn’t spotted them.

  Paula had been born on Huxley’s Haven, a unique world funded by the Human Structure Foundation which genetically modified every citizen so they would fit into a simple social structure framed within a low-technology civilization. To the horror and dismay of the rest of the Commonwealth, what they condemned as genetic slavery actually worked, producing a population that was mostly happy with their predetermined lot. The few malcontents were kept in order by police officers who received specific psychoneural profiling. Among other traits was a variant on obsessive compulsive disorder to ensure they never gave up the chase. The Foundation had created Paula to be one of them, but she’d been stolen from a birthing ward by a group of radical liberals intent on liberating the poor slaves. She’d grown up in the Commonwealth at large, first becoming an investigator in the Serious Crimes Directorate, and then for the last seven hundred years acting as an agent for ANA:Governance.

  Huxley’s Haven still existed, its society chugging quietly along on its ordained course without changing or evolving. The Greater Commonwealth had very little contact with it these days; Paula herself hadn’t been back for over three hundred years, and that had essentially been nostalgia tourism. There was no need to keep an eye on it. ANA:Governance was very protective of non-Higher cultures. A policy which, ironically, gave Paula very little opportunity to return; her designated task of preventing the ANA Factions pursuing their illegal interference among the External Worlds kept her incredibly busy.

  Her u-shadow established an ultra-secure link to Justine Burnelli. “I’m at the Anagaska clinic,” she said.

  “And?”

  “We were right; the raid was organized by a Faction.”

  “Any clues which one?”

  “Well Marius and the Delivery Man are hanging round outside, which implies they are as interested as we are.”

  “Ergo they didn’t do it.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I’ve never known the Accelerators and the Conservatives to be so blatant before. More likely one of them did it, and the other is trying to expose or counter them. You know what they’re like.”

  “Whose memorycell were they after?”

  “Now that’s where it gets interesting: Inigo.”

  “Oh my. Really?” Justine said “I’m surprised Inigo left himself open to that level of exposure.”

  “To be exact, Inigo pre-Living Dream. This is an old store.”

  “How does that help anyone?”

  “I’m not sure. The Conservatives will benefit if he returns and stops the Cleric Conservator’s Pilgrimage project. But there’s no way of telling if he will. He might just applaud and join the Pilgrimage himself.”

  “If one of the Factions full-clone him they’d be in possession of a puppet messiah. Very useful for endorsing your own agenda.”

  “Except this won’t be a full-clone,” Paula said. “This is an early version.”

  “I have a theory that might fit.”

  “Go.”

  “A full-clone early version would presumably be able to receive dreams from the Void just like the original, which would give its controllers a considerable advantage over their opposition.”

  “You mean they’d be able to reach the supposed Last Dream?”

  “More likely the new Skylord Dreams. Ethan still hasn’t found the Second Dreamer, despite a phenomenal amount of effort. Did you know Living Dream is modifying every gaiafield confluence nest it sponsors? And that’s about eighty per cent of the Greater Commonwealth. They’re getting desperate; the new dreams are increasing. They’re not just fragments any more. Whole sequences are seeping into the gaiafield.”

  “I don’t think Living Dream are behind the raid.”

  “They’d benefit enormously,” Justine said.

  “Yes, but, my u-shadow has identified the woman assisting Mr Telfer. It’s Living Dream’s ex-Councillor Corrie-Lyn. Now persona non grata to Living Dream, and wanted for several bodyloss charges on Ellezelin. The Commonwealth warrants are quite extensive. They also list an accomplice called Aaron, who shares the facial features of Mr Telfer.”

  “Now that is interesting. Any idea about Aaron alias Mr Telfer?”

  “No. But the pair of them transferred to a starship immediately after the clinic raid. There’s only one starship unaccounted for on Anagaska right now, the Artful Dodger.”

  “What’s the history?”

  “Standard private yacht, registered on Sholapur.”

  “Oh now we’re getting somewhere. Sholapur: so in other words we don’t know who it belongs to.”

  “Indeed. There’s no real background available; however the Artful Dodger was on Ellezelin until just after the ruckus at the Riasi fane.”

  “Corrie-Lyn used to be Inigo’s lover. Could she be pining for him? A full-clone would be one way of getting him back.”

  “No. She’s a pawn. Telfer is using her to get to Inigo.”

  “How does an out-of-date memorycell help them get closer to him? Enough people have tried to find him. He’s probably left the Commonwealth entirely. Either he set off to get into the Void by himself, or he’s gone and joined Ozzie.”

  “He hasn’t joined Ozzie. I checked that fifteen years ago.”

  “I was always envious of the life you lead,” Justine said. “All that glamorous danger and travel, there’s something intoxicating about it to a sheltered little rich girl like me. How was Ozzie?”

  “Like me, essentially unchanged.”

  “Who do you think this Aaron character is working for?”

  “As you say, there are a lot of Factions and organizations who would benefit by finding Inigo. This raid simply tells us how urgent their pursuit is becoming. Nobody has been careless enough to show their hand until now.”

  “So what’s your next step?”

  “This raid is only
one aspect of a much larger process of political events. I think it’s important to find the Second Dreamer before Living Dream do. That person will obviously play a huge part in determining the outcome of the Pilgrimage.”

  “Wow, you still think big, don’t you?”

  “I always believed that solving a case is a holistic process. It’s one of the few things I have remained true to in the last thousand years.”

  “And what about Aaron and Corrie-Lyn?”

  “That’s the aspect I’ll stay visible on. It won’t take Investigator Halran long to identify Corrie-Lyn, and things will become quite public after that. If I start enquiring after the Second Dreamer it will create too much interest amid the factions.”

  “Would you like me to start looking for the Second Dreamer?”

  “No. You’re highly visible to the factions. Almost as much as myself. I think it would be best if you could keep an eye on the Delivery Man and Marius.”

  “I’ll do that. Who gets to track down the Second Dreamer, then?”

  Paula smiled broadly, knowing how the Faction agents out in the forest would focus on that and wonder. “The last person anyone would suspect, of course.”

  ***

  The condition of the utility feed pipes in the third apartment were a lot worse than Araminta had expected. She spent three unscheduled hours that morning tracing them through the walls and floor, supervising the bots as they ripped the corroded tubes out. It all made a great deal of mess, which meant more cleanup, which meant more time not spent on preparing the wall frames for the new fittings, which pushed completion back just that little bit further.

  Her u-shadow told her when it was eleven o’clock, which barely gave her enough time for a spore shower in the fourth apartment where she was living. Two of the old shower’s five nozzles weren’t working, and one of the remaining jets smelt funny. She just had time to apply some freshener and dress in smart trousers and jacket before the clients were due. The perfumed spray damping her skin gave her an unexpected flashback to the day she found out Laril had left Viotia and her liberal use of travel-clean back in those days. All of which gave her a guilty prod that she hadn’t been back to Nik’s for ages.

  She gritted her teeth against stupid sentiment and went out into the vestibule as the lift brought her new clients up from the lobby. Danal and Mareble were dressed strangely. Her in a long skirt of wide-weave ginger cotton, topped by a suede waistcoat with brass buttons that was worn over a plain white blouse. Sturdy brown boots were just visible below her swirling hem. Her thick raven hair was brushed back, its waves bound in simple elastic cloth bands. He wore leather trousers and boots similar to hers. A yellow jacket was almost hidden beneath a brown overcoat made of some oiled fabric.

  Despite their historical appearance, Araminta couldn’t help but smile as the lift doors opened. There was something irrepressibly enthusiastic about them. Youthful grins and the eager way they glanced around, the way they held hands the whole time.

  “Welcome,” she said. The golden-wood door to the showcase apartment swung open.

  She’d dressed the apartment with a simple two-tone colour scheme in each room, and kept the furniture minimalist. The floor of the open-plan living room was an expensive ebony-wood parquet. Artfully positioned tables and chairs and settee were all reproduction Herfal style, with sharp curves and metal-moire legs—a popular fad three centuries ago. The balcony was open, and it was a warm clear day outside, showing the park off to great effect.

  Mareble drew a breath as they walked in. “It’s fabulous,” she exclaimed. “Just what we’re looking for.”

  Danal chortled. “Forgive my wife, she obviously doesn’t believe in showing our hand before negotiations.”

  “I did the same thing with the original vendor,” Araminta confessed. “It’s easy to become devoted to these apartments very quickly. I’m actually thinking about keeping one for myself.”

  Mareble stood in front of the balcony door. “Would the one we’re considering have the same view?”

  “Apartment three is on the corner,” Araminta gestured along the balcony. “You get one aspect facing the park, as well as a view westward across the city. The suspension bridge is visible that way.”

  “How lovely.”

  “Can we see it?” Danal asked.

  “Not just yet. City health and safety codes won’t let me take people into an accredited construction site.” And it’s a complete shambles, which might put you off.

  “Construction site? Are there structural problems?”

  “Absolutely not. The structure is perfectly sound. An independent deep scan survey file is registered at City Hall if you’d like to verify it. I’m just refurbishing and remodelling. Unfortunately, the City chooses to class that as construction because I’m replacing the electrics and utility feeds. It’s just more filework for me, that’s all.”

  Danal gave a sympathetic sigh. “That sounds just like Ellezelin. Dear Lady, the Waterwalker never had to put in requests to the Orchard Palace if he wanted to get things done. Try telling that to our government.”

  “Now darling,” Mareble squeezed his hand tighter. “He has a thing about bureaucrats,” she explained.

  “We all do,” Araminta assured them.

  “Thank you,” Danal said.

  “So are you moving here from Ellezelin?” Araminta asked.

  “Oh yes,” they chorused happily.

  “I’m a confluence nest technician,” Danal said. “There’s a lot of work going on upgrading the whole gaiafield right now. It’s especially important on Viotia.”

  “Why is that?” Araminta asked.

  “The Second Dreamer is here,” Mareble said. “We’re sure of it. The last few dreams were so much more vivid than those first fragments. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t have gaiamotes,” Araminta said, keeping it light, as if it was some minor fault with an appliance she was going to get corrected, praying it wouldn’t make any difference to the deal. She needed their deposit on apartment three; they hadn’t been as easy to sell as she’d envisaged and her suppliers were submitting payment demands.

  Mareble and Danal both wore the same compassionate expression, as if they felt sorry for her. A concord which instantly reminded her of Mr Bovey.

  “The gaiafield is not something I could live without,” Mareble said quietly. “I can always sense Danal no matter where we are, even when we’re planets apart; that kind of permanent emotional connection is so satisfying and reassuring.”

  “And of course we know Inigo’s Dreams. Intimately,” Danal said. He smiled with the placid bliss only the truly devout could ever achieve.

  Araminta tried to replicate that mien of joy. “I didn’t know you could tell where a dream came from,” she said, hoping that would divert them from her tragic defect. There was nothing the devout of any sect or ideology enjoyed more than making the benefits of their belief obvious to outsiders.

  “That’s the thing with the gaiafield,” Mareble explained earnestly. “It’s not all clear and precise like the Unisphere. Human thoughts are not digital, they’re emotion. I had the feeling with the last few dreams of the Skylord; they were close to me. Now the nests remember them they’ve lost that aspect, not that they aren’t still wonderful. We’re all hoping that we’ll experience the Skylord flying to Makkathran to collect the Waterwalker’s soul. After everything he’s done for the people of Querencia, and us, he deserves to rest within Odin’s Sea.”

  Something about Mareble’s evocation made Araminta pause, as if it connected with some old recollection. Which was stupid. “I see,” Araminta said. Her knowledge of the whole Waterwalker epic was sketchy at best, she certainly didn’t know any details. “That’s why you want to live here?”

  Mareble nodded eagerly. “I’m convinced the Second Dreamer is here. One day soon he’ll reveal himself and the Pilgrimage can begin.”

  “Will you join it?”

  They smiled at each other, and clasped hands again
. “We hope so.”

  “Well at the risk of being crass, you won’t find anywhere better to wait than here.”

  “I think we can consider putting in an offer,” Danal said. “An uncomfortable number of our fellow followers are looking for property on Viotia. Living in a hotel is pleasant, but we’ll be happy to move into a real home.”

  “That I can fully appreciate.”

  “We’re prepared to offer you the full asking price, but we would need a guarantee that the apartment will be completed on time.”

  “I can put my certificate on that file, yes.”

  “And the virtual model we accessed, it was nice, but…”

  “I want to make some changes,” Mareble said quickly. “The technology needs to be de-emphasized, and the décor should be more naturalistic.”

  “Naturalistic?”

  “Less manufactured products, more wood. As it is on Querencia. We’re not against technology, we use it all the time, but it shouldn’t be featured. For instance, can you install a proper cooker in the kitchen? One with an oven and hob?”

  “I’ll check City regulations and get back to you on that one.”

  ***

  “So can you supply me with a proper cooker?” she asked Mr Bovey that night over dinner. She was at his house, sitting at a small table on the balcony which overlooked the lawn. The River Cairns ran along the bottom edge where the mown grass gave way to shaggy reeds and a lengthy clump of coran twister trees that dangled chrome-blue fronds into the water. Bright lights in the buildings along the opposite bank glinted off the smooth black surface. It was a lovely relaxing ambience, with a delicious meal several of hims had cooked, and three of hims sitting with her. A pleasant end to an exasperating day.

  “Actually, yes,” the handsome blond one said.

  “You say that with such confidence.”

  “Because I’ve already supplied three in the last ten days,” the shorter one with a dark complexion told her. “Living Dream fanatics do like their primitive comforts. They prefer water baths to spore showers, too.”

  “Dear Ozzie, my cousin was right, they are taking over. I ought to raise the price on the last two apartments.”