by Eric Brown
Halliday hardly noticed it, spending most of his time in the ghetto of El Barrio. Only when he ventured into the more affluent enclaves of Manhattan, and observed the lives led by others, did he begin to think that Kat might have a point.
He plummeted down the side of the Lincoln Tower, doing his best to ignore the startling rate of descent, and considered Suzie Charlesworth and her world. She was - or rather had been - in the position of being excluded from society by an accident of birth. He wondered at the hell of being unable to interact with others because of some essential deficiency within yourself, and knowing that something was wrong without being able to understand quite what, or to effect a change. He considered the mess of his own life, the emotional troughs he suffered as a matter of course - but surely it was better to be able to experience the emotional highs and lows of life than to live solely an existence of pure intellect?
He left the Lincoln Tower and drove south, towards Chinatown and Kat Kosinski’s place.
After he’d dropped off the cheque and talked to Kat about last night, he had a date lined up with Casey. A holo-drama and a meal somewhere ...
Nail Charles and he’d be a happy man.
He turned onto Houston Street and seconds later noticed the black Merc in his rear-view mirror. It’d been tailing him all the way down Fifth ... Okay, he was being paranoid. He’d travelled only a couple of kay, and on a main thoroughfare at that, so what was wrong with a Merc on his tail? But he’d been idling along, day-dreaming, and the car had had plenty of time to overtake him ... and had declined to do so.
He decided to take a few turns, find out for sure if the Merc was on his tail.
He eased the Ford over to take the next right, and in the rear-view mirror saw the Merc signalling right, too. He turned and accelerated. The car followed, allowing him to open a distance of some five hundred metres.
He was not far from Kat’s place. He could always ditch the Ford and head for her apartment, hole up there until the heat was off. He thought about it, decided against that option.
He turned left down a quiet sidestreet, considering the alternative. He had no doubt that he was being followed, now. The question was, who was it? His stomach turned at the thought that Charles might be making good his promise . . . They’d been watching him, following him, as he met and questioned Tallak. The shrink’s office would have been the obvious place for them to stake out. He cursed himself. He should have thought of that, been more careful.
He took a sharp left down another quiet street and raced the Ford to the end. He could turn right or left now. The Merc had yet to show itself at the end of the street. He could easily lose his pursuer and be home free. Instead he idled, and only when the black car showed in his rear-view did he turn right.
Why run away when this was the perfect opportunity to find out who was following him?
He needed a good lead, something substantial to advance his understanding of the case, and if he played his cards right he would soon be in possession of the best lead of all.
A principal player in the game of cat and mouse...
On either side of the street were the recessed loading bays of various stores and warehouses. He turned the Ford into an empty bay, then climbed out and ran back down the deserted street in the direction he had come. He slipped into the cover of the next bay and ducked behind a plastic trash container.
He waited, heart pounding. Any second now the Merc would drive past in pursuit of the vanished Ford. He would get the car’s plate, maybe even a glimpse of the driver.
He counted off the seconds, and then the minutes. Either the driver had taken a wrong turning and lost him, or he was clever and playing a game of double bluff.
The car did not appear. Halliday cursed, tried to work out how he might have done better. He could have stopped and remained in the car, inviting his pursuer to approach, but that would have been just too much of a risk. If it was Charles, or one of his minions, out to kill him ... Then perhaps he should consider himself lucky that he’d evaded the Merc.
Five minutes later he chanced a glance up and down the quiet street. It was deserted, still but for the scurrying shape of a rat in the distance, and a scrap of litter twisting through the hot air like a kite.
He stood and hurried back to the Ford. He would have to be extra vigilant from now on, now that he knew he was under surveillance. Maybe he should think about relocating his base, and making use of the chu Wellman had given him.
He heard the sound, then - a footfall behind him, and he stopped in sudden alarm and with a terrible sensation of vulnerability and fear. He saw, in the distance, the same wind-borne sail of litter float through the air in slow motion, and it struck him, absurdly, as a thing of supreme beauty.
He made to turn, but the shot punched a hole through his back and chest and sent him pirouetting through the air. He landed on his back, and pain like molten lead being poured through his torso pulled a scream from his throat.
He lifted his head in a bid to see who had shot him.
His pursuer was perhaps three metres away, staring at him with an expression of disbelief, as if unable to comprehend the enormity of having shot another human being.
Halliday felt tears sting his eyes.
What had he counselled himself, earlier? That he should be extra careful from now on. Trust no one, and question everything. Stay alive.
Stay alive!
His hand moved to his chest, as if to check the damage done by the bullet. He was oddly surprised to encounter a feeble, pulsing flow of warm liquid.
Already he was finding it hard to breathe and his vision was misting.
His hand came up against the butt of his automatic, and his assailant saw the sudden movement and raised his gun to fire again.
Halliday gripped his automatic and, firing through his jacket, loosed off half a dozen shots, each one finding its target. The man fell to his knees, staring down with incredulity at the shattered remains of his chest.
Halliday closed his eyes. What a futile way to die, he thought.
He remembered the silver card Tallak had given him, and he knew then how the bastard had traced him.
He opened his eyes. Tallak sprawled before him, one arm outstretched. He heard a sound. The doctor was crying, and Halliday felt a sudden and quite involuntary stab of pity.
He stared in wonder at the man’s outstretched right hand.
He reached into his jacket, found his com and pressed the emergency code.
Tallak’s hands, he thought as oblivion claimed him. He should have known.
Tallak’s hands were so young...
* * * *
Sixteen
Barney climbed the steps to the verandah of his beach-front villa, and in that second Lew Kramer materialised before him.
He felt a sudden start of guilt at the thought that the exec was here to reprimand him for his jaunts through the cyberverse, but something in Kramer’s attitude suggested that he had other things on his mind.
‘Barney, good to see you again. Let’s sit down. We need to talk.’
‘I’m fixing a coffee. How about you?’
‘Ah ... no. No, I’m fine.’
Despite his curiosity, Barney moved into the kitchen anyway and brewed himself a coffee. It was a small and futile act of defiance, but one he found very satisfying. Christ knew, he had precious few other means of demonstrating his will.
Unless, of course, he made more of the basal rents.
He carried a mug of steaming black coffee out onto the verandah and joined Lew Kramer at the table.
‘So what’s the score, Lew? Your whiz-kids worked out a way of getting me outta here yet?’
He sipped his coffee, watching Lew, enjoying the guy’s discomfort.
‘That’s why I’m here, Barney. There’ve been developments.’
‘Good news?’
Lew hesitated, and Barney thought, uh-oh ...
‘Okay, bud. Let’s have it. What gives?’
‘Let
me start by saying that I was against this from the start. Someone above me in the R&D hierarchy okayed the procedure, and my team had little choice but to go ahead with it.’
‘You’re talking in riddles, Lew,’ Barney said, not liking the sound of what Lew was saying one bit.
‘From time to time, as a matter of procedure and for the benefit of research, we copy the volunteers who help us out at Mantoni—’
‘Hold on there. Slow down. Did I hear you right? You copy volunteers?’ Barney lowered his mug to the table. ‘What the fuck do you mean, copy?’
Lew cleared his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. ‘I mean, we make an e-download of the volunteer’s mind - thoughts, memories, personality, the whole package that makes up an individual’s unique identity.’
Barney nodded. He was curiously calm. He understood intellectually what Lew was saying, and could work out the consequences, but he was unable to bring himself to feel anything.
He said, ‘Is that legal, Lew?’
‘Well, actually, there’s no precedent in law as things stand at the moment. It’s one of those grey areas where the technology has stolen a march on the judicial process.’
‘So what you’re saying is that it isn’t illegal?’
Lew nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, in the contract that all volunteers sign there’s a clause which states that the Mantoni organisation is within its rights to make e-copies—’
‘I never read any such thing, Lew.’
‘Maybe it isn’t stated as baldly as that,’ Lew said, ‘and it is hidden away in a sub-clause somewhere.’
‘Like all big businesses everywhere,’ Barney grated, ‘you’re just a set of scheming, cheating, immoral bastards.’
Lew coloured. ‘Like I said, I personally was against—’
‘Spare me the protests of innocence, bud.’ He stared across the table at the exec, marshalling his thoughts.
‘Okay, so where does that leave me? Let me guess. You made a copy of me, right?’
Lew nodded. ‘That’s right, Barney.’
‘And then you couldn’t get me outta here?’
Lew glanced down at the tabletop. ‘That’s not exactly true.’
Barney sipped his coffee. ‘So,’ he said, ‘what you came here and told me the other day. All that crap about ... what was it? “clients becoming too fully integrated into the matrix... “? And the baloney about the time-extension site - that was bullshit, too, right?’ He waited. ‘Why all the lies, Lew?’
The exec exhaled noisily. ‘Look, I felt that I had to tell you something. I mean, Christ... I knew you out there in the real world. I felt I owed you something, an explanation at least.’
‘Even if that explanation was a lie?’
Lew nodded. ‘I guess so. At least a reassuring lie was better than ignorance, or so I reckoned.’
‘So if that was the lie, Lew, then what’s the truth?’ He forced a laugh. ‘It’s got to be something pretty fucking awful, if being stuck in this place was areassuring lie . . .’
‘The truth is, Barney, that we pulled you from the tank after your allotted hour with Estelle.’
Barney nodded. He had seen it coming. He had guessed. That moment of dislocation at the end of the hour with Estelle... ‘What you trying to say, Lew?’
The exec could not bring himself to meet Barney’s gaze. ‘You’re the copy,’ he said.
Not surprisingly, he felt nothing now that his supposition was proved correct. Hefelt nothing, no rage, anger, fear ... But he was curious, very curious indeed.
He lifted a hand, stared at it. He clenched his fist, felt the blood flow through his veins. The taste of the coffee was strong on his palate.
‘Remarkable,’ he said. He considered all his thoughts, his memories. They were all so many pieces of electronically coded information, now.
He smiled to himself. What had they been before, though, technically speaking, but just so much electronically coded information, only housed in a flesh and blood receptacle?
The remarkable thing about the whole process was that humankind possessed the ability to make such copies.
‘So I guess the fact is,’ Barney said evenly, watching Lew across the table, ‘that I’m no longer human?’
‘Technically speaking,’ Lew said, ‘I suppose that’s correct. I mean, in the strictest definition of the law, that is. Of course, things might change in the future. And, if you look at it another way... what exactly defines the parameters of what is or is not a human being? You have your thoughts, feelings, memories, you have your own sacrosanct sense of self, your identity.’
Barney almost stopped him when he mentioned feelings, but resisted the urge. Let him think he had feelings, if it would make him feel any better. Barney smiled at the irony of the situation.
The exec was running off at the mouth in relief that Barney, or rather the electronic copy that was now Barney, was taking the revelation in his stride.
But how could I possibly do anything else, he thought, when I’ve been robbed of my ability to feel?
‘Let’s cut the bull and get to the bottom line,’ Barney said. ‘So I’m no longer, technically speaking, human. I’m a copy. I exist in the Mantoni cyberverse, or whatever the fuck you call it. I guess that makes me your property, doesn’t it?’
Lew shrugged. ‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly phrase it quite like that.’
Barney laughed. ‘I’m sure as hell certain that your legal boys would, though. In fact, they’ve probably already got it down in black and white somewhere - no doubt tucked away in a sub-clause.’
He took another long draught of coffee. He tried to analyse his thoughts. The old Barney would have said, what do I feel about this situation? But feelings were useless to him now. All that mattered now was what he thought about the situation.
He was a copy of a human being, with a set of memories he considered his own, an identity. He seemed to have a physical existence, even if that was only an illusion maintained by a very sophisticated cyber system.
Had he been restricted to this site and this site alone, then he might have complained, but since having discovered the rents in the basal matrix ... he foresaw an interesting existence ahead of him.
‘So why the change of heart, Lew? First you tell me I’m imprisoned in here, can’t get out, but you’re working on it. Now you spring the big surprise - I’m no longer human, I’m a copy. What happened? You said there’s been developments?’
Lew nodded. ‘You see, a while back in the real world, the original Barney Kluger died.’
Barney nodded, calm. Hell, how was he supposed to react to the news of his own death?
‘Don’t tell me, the old ticker went, right? Doc Symes was always warning me to lay off the wheat beer.’
Lew shook his head. ‘We don’t know the details, but we heard he died in a shoot-out.’
‘Died with his boots on, doing his job.’ Barney shook his head. ‘That’s how I always wanted to go, you know?’ He stopped, stared at the exec. ‘So where does that leave me?’
Lew nodded. ‘You ever heard of an NCI?’ he asked.
‘Nano-cerebral interfaces? Sure.’ He’d done his research. An NCI was a cyber skull-augmentation, wired into the brain of VR technicians to facilitate interaction with the cyberverse.
‘Right. You see, it’s possible to download information into NCIs - any kind of information.’
‘What are you trying to say, Lew?’
‘We have a body, out there in the real world. Victim of a cerebral haemorrhage. Brain dead, but the body’s in perfect working order. We’ve fitted it with the latest model NCI.’
Barney stared at him. Just as he was anticipating the possibilities of surfing the cyberverse ...
‘Another one of your big fucking experiments, Lew?’
‘With your permission, of course, we plan to download you into the new body tomorrow.’
Barney raised his mug, smiling across at the nervous executive. ‘So let’s drink to my resurrection,’
he said.
* * * *
Seventeen
The first thing he was aware of was the absence of pain.
Only then did it come to him that he was still alive. He lay on his back with his eyes closed, and where before a searing agony had lanced through his chest, now there was no pain. More than that, his body was no longer racked with the aches, the nausea and dizziness that had plagued him for months.
