“Prometheus, at last,” the man said, staring at Julie with a stupid smile.
“Yes,” Zane said excitedly. “Isn’t it wonderful?” He giggled like a boy.
“Oh, yes,” the woman heartily agreed, studying Julie with raised eyebrows of fascination like she was some rare biological specimen. “Wonderful.”
Julie couldn’t stand it any longer. Uncomfortable under their scrutiny, she demanded in a sharp voice, “Do you mind filling me in on what’s so wonderful?”
“Oh, we’re forgetting our manners,” Zane gushed. “Julie, this is Dr Steven Krupka, formerly with epidemiology.” He pointed to the grinning man, who bowed slightly, then to the woman who was clasping her hands together. “And this is Dr. Irena Kaikov. They’re both virologists specializing in neurology—”
“I don’t care who they are,” Julie cut in sharply, thinking of Dykstra’s order to process her. “I want to know why you brought me here.” Her patience had bottomed out and she knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t help it. “Did you bring me to Icaria to dissect or interrogate or what?”
The three scientists looked stunned. She felt good about having wiped that toothpaste ad smile off Zane at least and now remembered how it had annoyed her the first time she’d met him. Only Tyers seemed unaffected by her outburst. Leaning casually against the wall, he folded his arms across his chest and smirked in silence. Perplexed, Zane stammered, “But we were told that you came back of your own accord, Julie. Returned to Icaria to help.”
Julie glanced from face to face. Tyers hadn’t changed his expression. She fixed her gaze on Zane. “Help? With what? You already found a cure for Darwin, didn’t you?” She thought of Frank. How else could he have survived?
Zane grimaced at her. “Well, not really.” He released a big sigh. “When the mayor gave me your information on Prometheus and Darwin, he suggested that I be credited with finding this vital information on Proteus’s etiology.” The grimace morphed into a monstrous smile and Julie realized that Zane was blushing.
She didn’t begrudge Mayor Burke for this—Icaria didn’t need the truth so much as it needed a hero, and Zane was a better candidate than most. She imagined the headline: “handsome and brilliant scientist, Zane Nakita, discovers that Darwin was manufactured by a mad scientist and spread to epidemic proportions by a carrier, the notorious, Dystopian assassin, Julie Crane, who was code-named Prometheus”. As for Burke obviously withholding the rest of her information...
“The Vee-net also credits my lab with curing Darwin,” Zane went on, “but we didn’t find a cure.” He let the statement dangle. There was obviously more. Zane broke his gaze from her and cleared his throat. He was looking at Tyers when he added in a slightly rattled voice, “The disease corrected itself.”
19
In a flash of insight, Julie understood. Proteus had done it with SAM’s help. Somehow, the artificial virus had righted itself, using SAM’s logic and insight on human behavior and physiology. To accomplish this, though, the virus must have acted as a collective entity, occupying the population like an amorphous genetic intelligence, connected like a neuronal network to the A.I. core’s incredible reserve through SAM. Then to dig deep into a diseased Darwin victim and reverse the damage...it was remarkable!
Julie thought of Vogel’s experiment and realized that Darwin had evolved into what it was meant to be. Which brought her back to her original question: why did these people want her? Icarians still used vee sets, so Darwin obviously wasn’t providing quite the service its originators had intended, like it had done with her. But it had obviously stopped killing people. Wasn’t that enough? Or did these scientists want to renew their research, using her again? Tendrils of dark and confused memories coiled inside her, gripping her with a boiling rage at having been so ill-used. She refused to let that happen again!
Julie suddenly realized that everyone was staring intently at her, even Tyers. She made an effort to unclench her teeth and took a deep breath to regain her composure. With a calm voice she was far from feeling, Julie directed her next question at Zane, “You mean the disease corrected itself even in those who were suffering previous symptoms?”
Zane nodded, his wide-eyed expression showing that he still couldn’t quite believe it. This explained Frank’s recovery, Julie thought. “Yes. Incredible, isn’t it?” Zane said. “Acting like an intelligent entity, which of course Proteus is.”
Those dreams...or visions...
Tyers cleared his throat pointedly.
Zane glanced nervously at him and grinned with embarrassment. “Oh, actually there’s more to it. You see, once SAM joined with Proteus—soon after you left and I became its veemeld—SAM was able to figure out that drugs, delilah particularly, were causing part of the problem with Darwin victims.”
Julie nodded. Drugs had not only interfered with her own ability to veemeld, but they’d always made her feel sick.
“There was this synergistic effect happening. Seems that the drug aggravated the virus into producing a chemical, which caused much of the brain damage evident in the disease. So, between them, SAM and Proteus figured out what needed to be done and let me know. CDC immediately ordered the removal of all drugs, to the outrage of many Icarians. We conducted a suite of tests and found that only three acted like delilah and permanently removed them. Gomorra, sodom and babel are no longer available. Between the removal of the offensive drugs and Proteus’s own imposed changes to itself, the lethality of the disease was defeated,” he ended with a wide grin.
“Even in those already affected,” Julie breathed, showing her amazement. Proteus had an incredible communication system for its viral community, mediated by SAM’s own ‘community’...
“Which brings us to you, Julie,” Zane continued. “You were Proteus’s first recipient—its only recipient—before it somehow mutated into Darwin, the lethal form Proteus manifested once it left the lab. You were the only one to get the original Proteus, as it was meant to be, meant to act.”
Irena leaned forward, shaking like a puppy, her hands pressed together. “And we are of course most interested in whether this intelligent virus has communicated with you—”
“Because the virus was made to enhance communication generally,” Krupka gushed, “particularly between humans and the A.I. network.”
“So many questions,” Zane said, that glossy grin back on his face.
“Okay,” Julie cut in and planted her hands on her hips, “let’s get to the point. What do you want me for?”
Zane’s lips twitched and he glanced nervously at Tyers before speaking, “Well, aside from the fact that we’d like to ask you a thousand questions, and test you for a million things, there is something specific.” He hesitated then launched in. “SAM and I don’t talk anymore, Julie. In fact SAM doesn’t talk to anyone except Proteus.”
And me, Julie thought. She remained silent, anticipating more, and folded her arms across her chest. Why was her heart thudding like an African drum?
“SAM’s out of control, Julie.”
She stiffened, clutching her sides, and swallowed down her rising apprehension.
“It’s taking over the city and no one can get to it. No one can control it. It won’t listen. Some parts of the city are now totally off-limits to people. Unsafe.” That was what she’d seen in Darwin Mall. “Accidents have happened, obviously perpetrated by the A.I.s in retaliation for our attempts to regain control. SAM’s got the whole 1000 Series working for it. They’ve made ridiculous demands for independence and sovereignty. Of course, that’s not possible. In fact it’s downright dangerous. We need to shut down the A.I. core but it’s closed itself off under a protective shield. No one can access it. No one except maybe...you.”
Julie stared hard at Zane. How could he possibly expect her to disable SAM? Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly serious,” Tyers said from behind.
She glanced from Tyer’s calm face to the anxious faces of the scientists facing her. “What if I talked to SAM, convinced him—uh, it—to yield control. SAM’s talked to me once already since I got here.”
“Don’t think so,” Tyers said in a clipped voice. “We can’t trust it.”
Couldn’t trust a machine? She was about to retort, then thought the better of it. SAM wasn’t just SAM anymore. There was Proteus to contend with also.
“It’s the only way,” Tyers continued. “Besides, we need to investigate why this happened and figure out how to correct it so it won’t happen again. Then the A.I. core can go online again. But not before. Of course, we’re prepared to compensate you for your part in this. Name whatever it is you want, Ms. Crane. Anything.”
There it was, dropped in her lap and she felt a surge from the pit of her stomach. Safety for her and her family. Freedom from Icaria’s harassment and its attackers—the prize she’d come for. She just had to kill her best friend for it. Then sweet images of Angel and Daniel flooded in. They stroked her heart until it hurt so much, tears prickled her eyes and she swallowed down the ache rising in her throat. It was a tempting offer. Indeed, the very mission she’d come on...
“I’ll have to think about it,” she said in a low voice and bowed her head. She caught Tyers and Zane exchanging knowing glances and exhaled. She looked directly at Tyers. “I want to talk to Zane alone,” she said in a firm voice, throwing a glance at the two other scientists. “Then I’ll need to talk to your Head Pol.”
“Certainly,” Tyers said, nodding without smiling. He had the presence of mind not to smirk this time. “That can be arranged.”
20
Angel stumbled to keep up as the Pol dragged her by the hand along the dirty lower level corridor. She had no idea where she was. When her father had fallen to the ground from the gunshot, the Pol had snatched her and forced her off the train. One of the ambushers was still chasing them. The Pol kept glancing back, pulling her along with one hand and the gun poised in the other.
A high-pitched squeal rang over their heads and Angel glimpsed a flash of blue. “Down!” the Pol hissed and threw her to the ground. Her knees slammed onto duracrete, sending sparks of pain through her. More laser screams whined over her head.
In the thundering silence that followed, Angel lifted her head and saw the Pol replace the gun to its holster and flick a switch on his helmet as he gazed at the still form of the ambusher lying ten meters from them. Then he muttered some instructions as if to himself but obviously to some communication device in his helmet. Within a moment he turned to her and said in a gruff voice, “Get up.”
As she did, two meter-high beetle-shaped droids scuttled down the hall toward them. Angel backed away instinctively but noticed that the Pol remained unconcerned as he watched both droids eject a viscous fluid onto the body.
“Recycling digesters,” he explained. “They come right away when I press this little baby,” He smirked proudly, finger stroking the console inside his helmet.” Gets rid of the criminal mess. No need for further investigation, eh?” The Pol force certainly had a lot of power, Angel thought, feeling her throat tighten. Power so easily abused. He went on, watching the droid position itself next to the corpse. “It goes into the main recycling depot.”
Behaving like an independent entity, the fluid extended pseudopods that engulfed and digested the dead body like an amoeba, stripping tissue and bone and finally taking that too. Angel watched in sick fascination as the robot sucked the fluid with what used to be a dead man into its metallic belly. The Pol grimaced. “Those AI07s recycle everything. Parts of him might return tomorrow as part of your nano-prepared breakfast or in Darwin Mall’s holo-art.” Now it was her turn to grimace. He barked a sharp laugh and shoved her forward. “Welcome to Paradise.”
They walked along the dark tunnel for what seemed like hours to Angel, breathing in the acrid smells of mold, mildew and tube-jet fumes. The Pol didn’t talk the whole way and Angel was thankful. It left her to grieve in silence for her father. She had seen death before, having killed and dressed a small doe herself only last summer, and now she refused to break down and kept the tears at bay. Had that ugly man killed him? It was next to impossible that he would have survived being shot in the chest at such close range. And where was her mother? This place was frightening—worse than the most dangerous place in the heath. Icaria was like nothing she’d experienced before. A dark and evil hell, full of mean people, terrifying surprises and those awful machine sounds constantly echoing in her head. How could she have persuaded her father to return here? He’d be alive now if they hadn’t!
Pol and prisoner emerged from the tunnel into a station and he immediately dragged her through a door, down several flights of stairs to a lower level corridor. A hundred metres down the corridor they went through another door and climbed several sets of stairs.
The Pol led her to a door that opened into another mall then he turned to her and pushed one of those devices everyone was wearing on their heads into her hands. “Put it on,” he said brusquely. “You need to blend in with the crowd.”
She surveyed the thing with curiosity, despite her unease with it and rolled it in her hands. It felt cold and smooth and a little like a snake.
“I said put it on!” he barked through clenched teeth.
She flinched and put the vee-set on. Instantly it molded to her head and the unnatural proximity made her skin crawl. It was all she could do not to fling the thing off as it arranged its various arms to their appropriate places on her ears, left eye and mouth. Once settled, the vee-set showed her data about the mall on the lens over her eye and spoke in a monotone to her: Odum Mall contains seventy shops, twenty restaurants, a 5-hectare park and Rec-Center, the Justi-Center and the Enviro-Center. If you wish any further information, please say so.
The Pol smirked briefly, amused at her reaction to a common technological device, and she felt foolish. After a cursory glance around, he pulled her through the door and dragged her, running to keep up with his great hulking strides, toward a building façade where they entered through the doors. Angel read the holo sign above: Enviro-Center.
The Pol knew his way in here and took her to another set of doors that slid open for them. He pushed her inside a very small room and when the doors closed the whole room jolted and moved up.
“It’s called an elevator,” the Pol spoke for the first time. He looked amused at her startled expression. “Guess you don’t get out much, eh?”
She glared at him.
The elevator came to a stop and he led her through another corridor to where the hall became a reception area with some comfortable-looking chairs and a table. A young woman dressed in a dark green tunic and black slacks greeted the Pol tersely and left. Angel forgot herself for a moment and let her eyes roam the large room. The walls were a pale green colour that seemed to change as she looked at them. More of those holo images floated as obvious decoration.
They seemed to be waiting for someone, she surmised. The Pol looked nervous, out of place here. He shuffled his feet and threw his gaze around the room without really looking at anything. When he suddenly squared his shoulders, she saw why. A statuesque woman swept into the room, radiating command and elegance. It was as though the room suddenly changed because she was in it. It became much smaller, or was it that her essence occupied so much of the space? She approached them and stopped short of Angel.
She was stunning in appearance: thick, midnight hair framed a face even more beautiful than her mother’s and flowed over her shoulders like skeins of milkweed silk. In contrast to her mother’s tawny skin, wrinkled at the eyes and mouth, and blemished with small defects, this woman’s perfectly smooth skin was a pale, ethereal hue, untouched by the harsh sun’s rays. Blue eyes sparkled with the glitter of gemstones and her perfectly shaped lips shone like rubies as she smiled at Angel. If Angel’s mother was a rose st
riving for perfection, then this woman was the model of perfection other roses strove to be.
“You must be Angel,” the woman said, her voice flowing like a deep river. “Come here, child.”
Before Angel realized it, she’d approached the captivating woman. She was so inviting.
“We were ambushed by four Vee-radicators,” the Pol cut in with a growling voice, briefly drawing the woman’s attention from Angel. “The father was shot in the chest from close quarters.”
The woman nodded curtly. “She looks a little like her mother,” she said, returning her gaze and absently studying Angel with a strange look. Then, like breaking from a dream, her eyes flashed briskly to the Pol. “That’s all, Norman. I’ll take it from here. I expect your report on my desk in an hour. Dykstra’s waiting for your briefing.” Then she dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned immediately back to Angel, her expression returning to one of genuine concern. “I hope Norman didn’t frighten or offend you, Angel,” she said, smiling warmly. “He’s a bit of a brute and doesn’t have all the social graces, but I can count on him. We knew that terrorist group would be after you and I expressly sent Norman to keep you safe and bring you here. I’m sorry we couldn’t save your father too.”
The woman’s compassion opened Angel’s heart and tears sprang to her eyes. The woman put her hands on Angel’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Angel. But perhaps we can find your mother?”
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