by Sarah Zettel
Because of Tam, she had forgotten to look closely and carefully at Chena Trust during a vital time. She had not alerted the family to certain important facts. Because Tam had interfered, because Tam had diverted… because Tam had changed her, and she had not even known she was being changed.
A new emotion filtered through the stillness of Aleph’s mind. Fear.
How can this be? How could he do this to me? How could one of the family do this to me? Why would they want to?
But it had been done. She could remember it being done. She saw that now.
But wait: If one emotion, one memory, could be chemically blurred, couldn’t another be inserted? Could this really be the truth? What if these new suspicions were hallucinations brought on by an improper balance of chemicals?
But what if they were the truth? Was there any way to tell? She had to alert the family. She had to tell Dionte. When Dionte touched her, she knew what was right, she was certain of everything.
But was that real? It felt so right, it must be. But if a chemical imbalance could produce euphoria as well as memory distortion severe enough to make her forget to pay proper attention to her duties…
How can I know? How can I know anything?
Aleph realized she did not want the family to touch her. Not even Dionte, not until she knew the truth behind her fear.
Aleph’s call to Gem was practically a scream.
“I have you. I have you.” Gem soothed her with gentle colors and the scent of cool water. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know!”
The scent muddied briefly, but then cleared. “What do you think is wrong?”
Aleph passed the memory (true memory? false memory?) of Tam’s actions to Gem, along with the knowledge of the fears she raised.
Gem’s silence and stillness filled her awareness, and brought yet more fear. This she also passed on.
Gem returned an ocean of reassurance. “There may not be cause for fear. There may be an explanation. I understand that you do not trust yourself in this.” Wind shifted the ocean waves, confusing them. “Do you still trust me?”
Aleph raised up stone cliffs to stand firm against the shifting sea. “Yes. That is why I called you. I trust you more than anyone.”
Gem’s boy image appeared on the cliff, bowing in gratitude. “Then let me call for the files I need. I will sort this out.”
Aleph slaved a transmission subprocessor to Gem’s need. Designations of files flashed across the surface of its consciousness. She expected Gem to concentrate on the previous five years, on the time since Chena Trust had come to Pandora, but he went back much further. Maintenance records from nine years ago, ten, twelve, fifteen, were all recalled and passed across. Aleph forced herself not to look as the information passed across. She had to trust Gem right now. She had to concentrate on what needed doing inside herself. She had to send out instructions concerning Tam. He needed to be brought to her. He needed to be examined. She needed to understand what was happening to her, and what had happened to him.
Gem called for yet more maintenance records. He had searched back twenty years now.
Aleph quietly spoke with Hagin, informing him that he needed to talk with his nephew. She activated the isolation and examination room.
Abstract images and the scents of bruised greenery reached her from Gem. “Aleph?”
She rearranged the colors into orderly squares and modified the scent into roses. She would accept whatever came. What choice was there? “What do you see, Gem?”
Gem’s colors rippled again. “I see that you must alert your Tam that his Conscience implant must be reviewed and adjusted. He should not have been able to touch you like this. But there is more, and I must ask you to verify what I see in your records and in mine.”
The colors faltered and broke apart. All Aleph could seem to call up was her girl image to peer into darkness. “Gem?”
Gem’s boy self appeared beside her, holding an open book. “Look.”
Aleph looked, and her whole mind trembled.
Tam stood in the doorway for a moment, surveying the young woman who sat at the conference table. Despite her olive skin, she looked pale in the sunny yellow room. Her short, straight hair barely touched the collar of the lemon-colored tunic she had been given. She must have known he was there, but she kept her gaze pointed toward the floor.
She was from Offshoot and he knew her name without having to bring up her file on his data display. Risha Lan was enough of a troublemaker for her face to show up on the constable’s report one or two times a year. She was also an orphan. Her father had taken a relocation option down to Taproot and had been washed away by a hurricane. Her mother had died of a virus that Nan Elle had been unable to identify or treat six winters ago. Only Tam’s deliberate oversight had kept her from being brought into the Alpha Complex when she was left alone. Now here she was, surrounded by blank yellow walls in a room that was empty except for two comfortable chairs and an examination table with its silver arms neatly folded, but still visible.
“Hello, Risha,” he said, walking into the room and allowing the door to glide shut behind him.
Risha tilted her gaze up just enough to glance at him. “Hello, Administrator.”
“The results of your DNA and RNA tests were forwarded to me.” Tam sat in the chair across from her. “You’ve been to a tailor, Risha.”
Risha shrugged, rubbing her palms together.
“Why did you do this?”
Risha looked at her callused hands. “There’s fever in Offshoot.” Tam nodded, even though Risha still was not looking at him. Nan Elle was keeping him as apprised as she could. “I figured this’d get me out of there before the quarantine came down and we were all fenced in to die.” She said it without shame or apology. The move to full quarantine status for Offshoot was being debated by the sector administration committee right now. It would happen soon, despite all Tam’s objections. Especially if even one case of the disease broke out in Stem.
“At least if I’m having babies for you, you’ll keep me alive, right?” She lifted her gaze, and Tam saw all the bitterness behind her eyes. He remembered that a fever had killed her mother.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She shrugged again, and sucked on her teeth for a moment. As if reaching a decision, she tilted her chin so she could look directly at him. “How’d you find out? The guy said you wouldn’t be able to.”
Tam considered lying. It would be kinder, but it would also be what she expected. If he could convince her that he was at least honest, he might continue to receive honesty from her. “We’ve got scans on you from when you were an infant, Risha. Your adult scans don’t match the fate map we projected for you.”
Surprise blanked the bitterness from Risha’s expression. “I don’t understand. I never volunteered for testing before.”
“Your parents had you tested when you were an infant.”
“What?” Tam watched that thought settle in. There was only one reason the complex would genetically test a village infant, and that was if the child was being offered up as a possible draft candidate. Genetic engineering worked much more effectively and predictably on infants and fetuses than it did on adults.
“I’m sorry,” Tam said. He wished he could tell her he knew how she felt, how parents sometimes made drastic mistakes and it was their children who lived with the consequences.
She just looked at him, her face completely closed and blank. “What are you going to do with me?”
You will be surprised to hear that depends on you, thought Tam. “If you tell me who did this to you, I will expunge your record and send you home.”
Risha’s right hand twitched, a sharp jerky movement telling Tam exactly how nervous she really was. “That easy?”
Tam nodded. As far as you’re concerned anyway.
Her eyes flickered back and forth, trying to read him for signs of lies. Tam sat still under her gaze. She would have to make up her own m
ind about this.
“Okay,” she said finally, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe you can get my money back.” Her mouth twisted into a humorless smile at the flat joke. “There’s a guy in Stem. Contracts out. Most everybody who follows the draft knows about him.”
“Davey Neus?” Tam frowned. “He was taken in five years ago.” Or they had tried to take him in. He’d been found dead in the lockup, hanged with his blanket. Constable Regan had never shaken the idea that someone else had arranged the appearance of suicide.
But Risha shook her head. “Not him. I’m surprised he lived as long as he did. There’s another guy. Wilseck Valerlie. Runs a bulk trading post. I went in, he gave me something to knock me out, I woke up when it was over.”
“And that’s all you know?”
“I hurt like hell, and he promised me you’d never know.” She scowled and looked away. “Serves him right you take him in.”
Stem. A new tailor in Stem. Tam rubbed his forehead. Where were they operating from? Where had Davey operated from? He had died before they had been able to bring him into the hothouse for questioning. His operation could very well have been left abandoned for someone else to take over.
Or Constable Regan could be right and someone had killed Davey to keep him from spilling their secrets. He remembered the way Regan scowled at the record sheets.
“This is a hacker, not a tailor. I don’t care what they say about the body being an organic computer, he did not jump from one specialty to the other.”
He’d been right, of course, and Tam had ordered Stem watched. Regan had watched, and Nan Elle’s grandson, Farin, had watched, and so had Nan Elle herself. But none of them had seen anything. Yet Risha could not be lying to him. Her history was there in her blood and bones.
Where would a tailor operate out of in Stem? It was a small village. There was nowhere to hide in the dunes. All at once, Tam’s mind filled with images of the red cliffs rising beside Lake Superior.
No. It was not possible. Hiding in the cliffs would involve being able to get past the fences and the video and mote cameras that monitored the coast near Stem. No villager could do that without help from a family member, and no family member would do such a thing. Even as he thought about it, his Conscience was berating him. Such a massive transgression would be recorded by the Conscience and reported to Aleph and the Guardians as soon as it was revealed.
Unless, of course, that conscience belonged to Dionte or himself.
Oh, no.
Would she trust a villager that much? Would she be able to resist when the situation was so perfect? A tailor who was smart enough to use front men to avoid getting caught, and in the heart of Tam’s own administrative territory, which would be the last place he’d look for the stolen Eden Project.
Oh, Sister. You are very good.
For five years he had tracked her movements, looking for patterns. But she was discreet in the extreme. She might even know he was watching her. They barely spoke anymore. He feared that even his truncated Conscience would register the enormous guilt and anger he felt every time he faced her, knowing what she had done to Helice Trust. If his Conscience recorded the strength of his emotions, he’d be scheduled for counseling after his next head dump, and possibly even an adjustment to his Conscience. Any such adjustment would be supervised by Dionte, and what Dionte would do to him…
Tam had to work not to close his eyes against that thought.
Risha coughed, reminding Tam that he was not alone. He touched the display on the back of his hand, entering his personal rejection of her filing, along with the records that already marked her as unfit for participating in the continuation of the Eden Project. He also added, on his authority as Offshoot’s administrator, that the subject posed no community danger, was guilty of only bad judgment, and was to be granted free return to Offshoot.
“I’ll walk you to the waiting room. There will be a number of returnees. You’ll be home soon.” He paused. “And you’ll be allowed to reclaim your clothes.”
“Thank you, Administrator,” she said politely but suspiciously; only the barest hint of trust in her voice said she believed he was really letting her walk away.
Tam began to stand, but the door swished open and he froze, startled. Hagin stepped across the threshold, with Shacte, tall, dark, and stern, following close behind him. Shacte was an apprentice Guardian, one of Dionte’s people.
In the next cold second, Tam knew Dionte had finally decided she could not leave him free anymore.
“I’m sorry, Tam,” murmured Hagin. “But we are told that your Conscience needs to be adjusted. Aleph has found a problem. You’ll have to come with us.”
Tam straightened himself up. Risha watched him with panic plain in her eyes. Tam motioned to her to keep calm. He could not take care of himself, but perhaps it was not too late to take care of her.
“I see.” His voice was cool, almost disinterested. “Very well, but Risha needs to be walked to the waiting room with the other returnees.”
Hagin nodded. “Shacte can take her, if you can promise you will walk quietly with me.”
What do you fear, Uncle? Tam wondered mildly. What has Dionte told you? He turned to Risha, who clutched the arms of her chair as if she thought someone might drag her out of it. “Don’t worry. Your records are taken care of. You’re going home.”
Before he could see whether she believed him or not, Uncle Hagin took his arm and led him out into the yellow corridor.
He paced silently beside his guard. There was no point in pretending to himself Hagin was anything else. They walked all the way to the farthest end of the hallway, where a door stood open and waiting for him. From the other side, Dionte watched him, her hands clasped together and a look of profound concern on her face.
Tam’s step faltered. Hagin put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and helped him move forward. He stepped across the threshold, but his guard did not.
“Hello, Brother,” said Dionte.
Behind him, the door closed. He winced, and for the first time in his life, Tam wished that he were not so alone.
It’s all right, said his Conscience. Everyone gets nervous at this time.
“Of course this is your assignment,” said Tam, staring at the chair waiting in front of him. It was clean, soft, and expertly designed to hold its occupant comfortably. “Of course.”
“I am your Guardian, Brother,” she said softly. “I only want to help you.”
Because there was nothing else to do, Tam walked across the blank floor to the chair and sat down. He leaned back to let its padding enfold him. The chair, sensing his weight, tilted itself so that his temple was aligned with the probe and recorder that automatically unfolded from the wall. Out of the corner of his right eye, Tam could just see Dionte extend the delicate arm. The chair did not permit him to turn his head.
“Your Conscience has not taken proper hold in your mind, Tam,” said Dionte softly. Tam felt a dull pressure as the recorder needle pierced the skin over his Conscience. “I must readapt it to make sure it functions properly in the future.”
Tam felt himself begin to shake. There had to be a way out, a way to stop this.
“Aleph. Aleph, are you there?”
“I’m here, Tam.” The voice filled with a deep and unexpected disappointment. “But with this diagnosis, I may not interfere. The subsystems cannot be overridden. Your sister will help you.”
“Yes, Brother. I will.”
With those words, the gates of his mind opened to release a flood of guilty memory so deep and so strong that all Tam could do was feel and weep, and wish that he would drown.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Run
It had taken Teal forever to suss out Stem’s new tailor. He was nothing like the old guy, the one who’d gotten Sadia and Shond in trouble. That one had hung around the cattle calls, all but waving people into his shop. No big surprise to find out he’d been hauled in a few days later. He was probably lucky the hothouse got to him
before the Pharmakeus did. They did not like the tailors.
I don’t give a grass rip who Nan Elle and her gang don’t like. Teal clenched her fists as she strode up the boardwalk. I’m getting out of here. I’m finding Dad and I’m telling him everything. We’ll see how these people like it when the Authority finds out what they’ve been doing.
We’ll see how Chena likes it when Dad finds out what she’s been doing.
Chena would come looking for her, but Teal wouldn’t go back. She’d tell the constables Nan Elle was a poisoner. She’d tell everyone. She’d babble like a baby to everyone who would listen about what Elle and Chena had been doing, about how they didn’t give a piss in the wind what she wanted to do, or what she thought, or felt. They were ready to hang around here until somebody came to rip them open. Well, she wasn’t. She was getting out of here in one piece. So what if Nan Elle stole her money? She had things to sell. She was getting out.
They could try to stop her. Let them just try.
Teal had expected the tailor to live on the edge of the village, like Nan Elle did, but he kept his place right in the center of town, only a couple of turns away from the market and the whorehouse where Chena’s lover-boy worked.
Wonder if she’s saved up enough money for him to lay her down yet.
The tailor shop looked like most of the other buildings—a few blocks of stone, a door, and a window all set into the face of a grassy dune. The door stood open just a little.
Teal didn’t let herself hesitate as she stepped over the threshold into the dim and cool shop smelling of old fish and dust. After the blaze of the summer day, Teal had to stop a minute to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she saw a bare room made of packed earth and sandstone. A few sealed baskets stood near the left-hand wall, and a set of crates made a kind of counter in front of a dark doorway that led deeper into the dune.
Teal stood in the gloom, uncertain what to do. Then she heard the scuff of footsteps coming through the doorway. A moment later, a patch of shadow turned into a square man with dark, almond-shaped eyes and pale skin and apple cheeks. He looked her up and down, as if checking for flaws.
