The Dreaming

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “All right, I can buy into that scenario. Given the circumstances of his later life, where do you think he might have gone?”

  “Hanko.”

  Which wasn’t the kind of answer Aaron was bracing himself for. Not even close. “The Second47 world?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know that was where Anagaska’s population originated from, but they were forced off because it became uninhabitable after the Prime attack. There’s nothing there, not any more.”

  “Inigo was always fascinated by what he considered his true ancestral home,” Qatux said. “Remember he did not belong in Anagaska’s Advancer culture. Hanko gave him a psychological ground point, amplified by an ancestor obsession rooted in his psyche due to the loss of his father so soon after his birth. Such a trauma affects any child, Higher as much as Advancer, especially when the event is regarded with such bitterness by his mother.”

  “A wound she kept open, unintentionally or otherwise.”

  “Correct. Hanko provided the perfect solution to someone as displaced as Inigo. A real place, yet at the same time unattainable. The illusion which could not be broken. He often contributed to charities which supplemented the official government Restoration teams. A telling point. He was never a wealthy man on Anagaska.”

  “And you think he’s gone back there?”

  “If he abandoned Living Dream due to his own uncertainty on the direction it was taking, I would assign it a very high possibility. He is Higher, the radiation and climate will have little physical effect on him.”

  “There are a lot of unknowns in this assumption.”

  “If you had certainties you would not be here.”

  “I apologize. I was expecting you to say he had fled the Commonwealth, or there was some secret cabal devoted to helping him. But Hanko would certainly explain why no one has found him.”

  “Will you go there?”

  Aaron looked over at Corrie-Lyn, who looked very puzzled. “Yes,” he said.

  ***

  “Ambition and good intentions are always an excellent starting point,” Likan said. “Then before you know it you come right smack up against reality. You either adapt, become realistic and respond in kind, or you flounder along until you sink under the weight of your own capitulations. Now I know those of you in this auditorium aren’t quitters. Hell, quitters couldn’t afford these ticket prices.” He grinned round at the murmur of dutiful amusement. “In life, either you get pressured or you apply pressure. Same for business—”

  Three rows back from the small podium, Araminta glanced round at her fellow entrepreneurs. It was like the gathering of a clone army. All eager young business people, smartly dressed and sharply styled; hanging on to every word the richest man on the planet had to say about acquiring that same wealth. Each one of them desperate for a tiny hint of which way the market would go, a quip about financial trends, what new law to watch out for, a state project that was worth trying to bandwagon.

  If they thought the Sheldonite would give them that, they were in for a big disappointment. Basic research: Likan was a ruthless man. He was here in Colwyn City to give another of his How-I-Made-It lectures for publicity and prestige, not to help fledgling rivals. A high profile helped his business, and in addition he got a buzz out of being adulated. This whole evening exemplified his favourite catchphrase: win-win.

  Bovey would hate all this, she knew, and smiled secretively at the knowledge. Sitting amidst the faithful, such thoughts were near-sacrilege. But then Bovey had a little bit of a hang-up about the genuinely rich and powerful. All politicians were worthless incompetents. All billionaires corrupt criminals. It was one of those quirks she was fond of. It could be quite funny hearing his youngest self, the biological fourteen-year-old, raging on about the cabinet secretary for social affairs. Mr Bovey had the true hatred of every self-employed person for bureaucracy, and the taxes it demanded to keep functioning; and, worse, expanding. In her mind, fourteen-year-olds didn’t have adult concerns like that, it was all angst and impossible aspirations at that age. She recalled it well.

  Araminta sighed warm-heartedly. Louder than she intended. She saw Likan’s gaze flick in her direction, though his speech never faltered. Her lips pressed together in self-censure.

  The speech was exactly what she was expecting. Plenty of motivational talk, a few anecdotes, a whole load of financial-services product-placement, and an excess of toothy smiles during the pauses for applause and laughter. Araminta even clapped along with the rest of them. It was all standard stuff, but there were some nuggets among the waffle. She was interested in his early years, how to make the jump from a small operation like hers up to a more corporate level. According to Likan, advancement was all down to risk, and how much of it you were prepared to take. He mentioned self-confidence a lot, along with determination and hard work. Araminta wondered if he’d ever met Laril. Now that would be an interesting conversation.

  Likan finished, and was provided with a standing ovation. Araminta got to her feet with the rest of them, and applauded half-heartedly. She wished he’d been more specific, maybe given some case-study examples. The chairman of the Colwyn Small Business Association thanked their distinguished guest, and announced refreshments were available in the function room outside.

  By the time Araminta made it out of the auditorium, her fellow small business owners were forming tight little groups to chatter away to each other while they gulped down the free drinks and canapes. From the snippets she overheard on her way to the bar the majority ran virtual companies. Talk was about expansion curves and cross-promotional market penetration and share options and when to merge. Men glanced at her as she walked past. There were welcoming smiles, even a few pings to her u-shadow, offering compliments and invitations. Her u-shadow didn’t respond—pings were so adolescent. If you want to take me out to dinner have the courage to ask me to my face. She’d chosen a deep-turquoise dress that complemented her hair colour. Strictly speaking the neckline was low and the hem high for a business occasion; but she now had the confidence to buck convention—at least on a small level. Independence and all that exposure to Cressida had given her that.

  “Pear water,” she told the barman.

  “Interesting choice.”

  She turned to find Likan standing behind her. For someone so rich, his appearance was puzzling. The skin on his face was slightly puffy, with flushed cheeks as if he were permanently out of breath. His biological age was higher than usual, fixed in his late thirties rather than the mid-twenties everyone else favoured. The clothes he wore were always expensive, but never quite gelled, as if he got his dress sense from adverts. His jacket with a shark-skin shimmer was chic, but not with that particular purple shirt and green neck twister. And the brown shoes were best worn when gardening.

  “I have to work later tonight,” she said. “Can’t afford lack of judgement from alcohol.”

  “Good self-control. I like that.”

  “Thank you,” she said levelly.

  “I got the impression you weren’t impressed tonight.”

  People nearby were discreetly looking their way. Likan’s voice was as forceful as it had been on the podium. That at least gave the impression of a strong personality.

  Araminta sipped her pear water, wondering how to play this. “I was hoping for more detail,” she told him.

  “What kind of detail? Come on, you paid for your ticket, you’re entitled.”

  “Okay: small company, doing well. Needs to step up a level. Do you re-invest profits and ride a gradual expansion with each project slightly larger than the last, or do you take the bank loan and jump ten levels.”

  “How small a company?”

  “One woman band, supported by some bots.”

  “Company product?”

  “Property development.”

  “Good choice for a start up. High profitability relative to scale. There is a ceiling, though, especially with one person. After the first three properties there should be
enough profit to take on more staff. With that you move on from one property at a time, and start multiple developments. Timing for that has never been better, property is the hot item here today thanks to Living Dream.”

  “Everything is relative. With that demand, a developer has to buy high.”

  “Then this developer should buy a whole street that’s in decline. It’s a profit multiplier, the individual unit prices rise because you’ve taken the entire street upmarket and made it desirable.”

  “That’s a big step.”

  “The level of risk you are prepared to undertake is proportional to your growth potential. If you don’t take it you are declaring this far and no further. That will define your life. I don’t think you want that.”

  “Question: would you advise the staff expansion be accomplished by becoming multiple?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Going multiple only seems like a solution to a solo act. Ultimately it’s a lifestyle choice rather than a business one. Ask yourself what you can accomplish by being multiple that you can’t by good aggressive management. As you came to listen to me tonight I know you’re already thinking ahead, thinking big. Property is a foundation stone for a corporate empire. A good one, I still have a vast property portfolio, but to achieve real market dominance you must diversify and interlock your interests. That’s what Sheldon did. He used his interstellar transport monopoly as a cash source to fund industrial, commercial, and financial enterprises on a hundred worlds. At the time of the Starflyer War he was effectively Emperor of the Commonwealth.”

  “Do you want to be our emperor?”

  “Yes.”

  Araminta was slightly shaken by his bluntness. She thought he was somehow calling her bluff. “Why?”

  “Because it’s a position where you can do whatever you want. The ultimate freedom. Isn’t that what we all strive for?”

  “With power comes responsibility.”

  “That’s what politicians tell you when they want your vote. There’s a difference between political power and financial power, especially out here in the External Worlds. I’d like to demonstrate that to you.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “Come and stay with me at my home for a weekend. See first hand what I’ve achieved. Decide if that’s what you want for yourself.”

  “What about your wives?” It was common knowledge just how staunchly committed he was to replicating his idol’s ideology and life, including (or perhaps especially) the harem.

  “What about them?”

  “Won’t they mind my visit?”

  “No. They’ll be joining us in bed.”

  That’ll teach me; you can’t be more direct to my face than that. She was pleased with the way she kept her reaction in check, no startled expression, no give-away body language—squaring the shoulders, straightening the back. In effect telling him she could hold her own against him any day. “I accept,” she said as if it was some kind of request to review finance statements.

  “I knew I was right about you,” he said.

  “In what way?”

  “You know yourself, you know what you want. That’s always dangerous.”

  “To whom?”

  “To everyone else. That’s what makes you so desirable.”

  “Win-win, then,” she mocked.

  ***

  The Alexis Denken slid comfortably into the big airlock at the base of the Raiel dome stalk. Behind it, the stars vanished as the wall materialized again. Paula stood up, pulled wrinkles out of her suit jacket self-consciously, and straightened her spine. The High Angel teleported her into Qatux’s private chamber. Raiel homes were traditionally split into three sections: public, residence, and private. You had to be a very good friend indeed to be invited beyond the public. The circular chamber had a pale-blue floor while, in keeping with tradition, the ceiling was invisible somewhere overhead. Around her, silver and grey walls rippled as if water was flowing down them, yet there was no sound, no dampness in the air. Beyond the cavorting surface, images of planetscapes and strange galaxies writhed insubstantially. However, one image remained firm and clear, a human face that Paula knew only too well.

  She inclined her head to the big alien who occupied the centre of the chamber.

  “Paula, I rejoice you are here.”

  “It’s been a long time, Qatux. How are you?”

  “I am well. If I were a human, I would be fit.”

  “I am glad.”

  “I have risen to the High Angel’s fifth echelon.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Five.”

  Paula laughed, she’d forgotten Qatux’s sly humour. “So you’re the captain, then.”

  “I have that honour.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “And you, Paula, do you continue to prosper?”

  “I continue to be very busy. For me that’s about the same thing.”

  “That is to be expected. There are few of your species who remain in their bodies for as long as you have.”

  “It’s also why I’m here. I need information.”

  “Just like the good old days. How intriguing.”

  Paula cocked her head to one side as she regarded the big alien. That phrase was slightly out of kilter. Qatux’s eye clusters remained steady on her. Long ago it would never have been so bold as to tease her. But then long ago it had been something of a wreck, until the Far Away mission came along. Of course, she’d been very different then, too. “The starship Alini has just visited the Raiel dome. Can you tell me if these people were on board.” Her u-shadow retrieved image files for Aaron and Corrie-Lyn.

  “They were,” Qatux whispered.

  “What did they want?”

  “I believe their mission was confidential.”

  She gave her old friend a shrewd glance, not liking the conclusions she was drawing. “It was you who saw them, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” The bottom set of tentacle limbs shivered slightly, the Raiel equivalent of a blush.

  “Qatux, did you review Inigo’s memories?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?” she asked, genuinely concerned. “I thought that had stopped centuries ago. Tiger…” She couldn’t finish. Her gaze was drawn to the face suspended behind the wall. Tiger Pansy’s silly carefree grin looked hauntingly back at her, obviously captured at a moment when the woman was blissfully happy.

  “I know,” the Raiel whispered. “It is not a return to my addiction, I assure you. There would be few Raiel indeed who could refuse the opportunity of experiencing Inigo’s mind. He dreams the Void, Paula. The Void! That evil enigma bedevils us to a degree which humans will never appreciate.”

  “All right,” Paula ran her hand back through her hair, making an effort to ignore the uncomfortable personal side effects which the case was kicking up. “Inigo’s memorycell was stolen from a clinic on Anagaska. Why did you help Aaron?”

  “I did not know the memories were stolen. He arrived in an ultradrive starship. It was intimated that he was a representative of ANA:Governance. In truth, he never confirmed that. I am sorry. I believe I was had. How stupid, me of all Raiel. The deception was quite simple.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Happens to the best of us. So what did he want to know?”

  “He asked me to guess where Inigo might be.”

  “Clever man. Which is curious in itself. There aren’t many humans who knew of your little problem. One of them must have joined up to a Faction. So what did you tell him?”

  “I guessed Inigo might be on Hanko.”

  “Hanko? But it’s just a radioactive ruin.” She stopped, examining the idea. “But, Earth aside, it is his ethnic birthworld. Still, an odd choice.”

  “Are you aware he was born Higher?”

  “No I was not! That has never been on any file. Are you sure?”

  Qatux’s biggest tentacles waved in agitation. “I am forty years of his early life, Paula. Throug
h me you are talking to the young Inigo.”

  “If ANA:Governance and I didn’t know, then its pretty certain very few other people did, either. That changes his whole profile. No wonder nobody could ever find him. As a Higher he has much greater personal resources.”

  “Will you go after Aaron and Corrie-Lyn?”

  “I’m not sure. I hadn’t envisaged Aaron being so close to finding Inigo. But even if he is on Hanko it’ll take Aaron a while to actually track him down. I need to consult with ANA:Governance on this. Thank you for helping, Qatux.”

  “You are welcome, Paula. Always.”

  She was on the verge of asking to be teleported back to her ship when she hesitated. “What do the Raiel think of the Pilgrimage?”

  “That it is incredibly foolish. Opening the Dyson Alpha barrier was one thing, but this takes your obduracy to a whole new level. Why does ANA:Governance allow it?”

  Paula sighed. “I have no idea. Humans always want to test their boundaries, it’s an instinctive thing.”

  “It is a stupid thing.”

  “We’re not as old as you. We don’t have species-wide wisdom, let alone responsibility.”

  “Higher humans do.”

  “The tenet of universal responsibility is the root of their culture, but as individuals they have a long way to go. And as for ANA, it’s like the intellectual equivalent of primordial ooze in there; who knows what’s going to come wiggling out triumphantly at the end of the day. I’m beginning to doubt ANA:Governance’s ability to keep order.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “This whole event has me badly troubled. There are too many people playing with catastrophic unknowns. Part of me, the old part that worships order, wants to shut down the entire Pilgrimage project. It’s obviously a monstrous folly. Yet the liberal side of me agrees that these people have a right to seek happiness, especially when nothing in the Commonwealth appeals to them. It’s indicative of our cultural heritage that we cannot provide a home for everyone.”