by Iain Pears
‘A second-grade security officer and a junior researcher with a blot on his file,’ Chang observed. ‘Things must be bad.’
‘If anything goes wrong, then it will be useful to blame people like us. How do you fancy global notoriety as a terrorist ringleader?’
‘That makes me feel better.’
‘It is amazing how the heresy of individualism resurfaces when there is a jail sentence in prospect.’
‘Don’t worry, gentlemen.’ Hanslip’s voice echoed around them as the man himself came strolling down the corridor. ‘You are both much too useful to be thrown away at the moment. You may have to fill that role eventually, but not yet.’
He led the way into his office and asked them to sit. ‘Thank you for your efforts, both of you. I’m afraid I do not know you very well, Mr Chang,’ he continued, as though this was somehow the researcher’s fault. ‘You have been here for about a year, is that correct?’
‘Yes. I was a …’
‘Just answer the questions. In your time as a renegade you spent long periods cut off from all electronic assistance?’
‘Yes. It was very strange, to start off with.’
‘You experienced no unfortunate consequences? No insanity, no delirium? No mental instability?’
‘I was certainly disoriented. It’s a most peculiar feeling to be without the chatter in your head, to sleep without adverts popping up in your dreams all the time. Once you get used to it, it can be quite pleasant.’
‘What about you, Mr More?’
‘Once. When I suffered an injury. I did not enjoy the experience.’
‘I see. Now, Mr Chang. You base your conclusion on one solitary line of print, is that correct?’
Alex nodded. ‘In an article written by a man called Henry Lytten, who lived in Oxford. He was born in 1910, died in 1979. I now have a copy of the document, if you wish to look at it. As I said, it was published in 1960.’
‘There is no other evidence?’
‘You must bear in mind that quite a lot of documentation from that period was lost. Finding this was remarkably good fortune.’
‘So it would seem,’ Hanslip said drily. ‘What was the article?’
‘I haven’t read it yet. It was called “Rosalind as the Universal Ideal: As You Like It in the Wider World”.’
Hanslip looked at him blankly.
‘I have no idea either,’ Chang said. ‘However, Shakespeare was quite well known.’
Hanslip cut him off. ‘Then we must investigate your lead, must we not? We are hardly spoiled for other options.’
‘Certainly. I thought that if I went to the Depository …’
‘Mr More can do that. But only visual confirmation will settle the matter conclusively.’
There was a long silence after this, as both men tried to figure out what he was saying.
‘Solid proof,’ Hanslip explained. ‘Someone must go and check.’
‘What? Who?’
‘You, of course. Who else?’
‘Me?’ Chang said, his voice louder and with a touch of panic in it. ‘How?’
‘The same method you seem to imply she used. The machine. Or do you now want to withdraw your findings?’
‘Well, no. I mean, the reference is there.’
‘Good. I like a man who stands by his opinion, whatever the consequences.’
‘Making a suggestion is one thing –’
‘Besides, I’m not asking. I have decided and I have the authority to dispose of you as I see fit. You worked with her, she may well trust you. If indeed this reference is to her, then you are the best person to find and approach her.’
Chang scarcely reacted; Jack studied him carefully as Hanslip talked. He was not frightened, although that, surely, would have been justified. He seemed more alarmed at having to talk to Hanslip than he was at the prospect of being used in such a way. He said nothing, so Hanslip, the matter settled as far as he was concerned, passed on to the next topic. ‘You have an appointment in implants in an hour. We will make sure you are properly equipped. Don’t worry about that.’
*
After the meeting, Jack continued his investigations into Angela’s disappearance and spent the afternoon in his little office, going through old files and records. It was dull and profitless work, and in the evening he took a break and went to find Alex Chang once more. He found him in implant maintenance, sitting on a table looking delirious.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
Chang had an asinine smile on his face from the anaesthetics used when they drilled a tiny hole in his skull. ‘Assez bien, mais j’ai pas dormi,’ he began, then stopped.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Jack asked as a look of alarm passed over the man’s face. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.
‘New additions,’ a technician standing behind him whispered. ‘Not properly absorbed yet.’
‘Oh. I see. Do you have a sort of buzzing in your head? I remember that from when I had my legal codes updated.’
‘Ja, es ist sehr ärgerlich.’
‘That’s the briefings, probably,’ the technician continued. ‘We loaded everything we had. Bit of a rush job, though. It may give you a few headaches until it settles in,’ he said in a loud voice in Chang’s ear. ‘We gave you a full set of European languages, and you’ll have to learn to control them. Try to speak in English. Otherwise you’ll just hop from one language to another at random.’
‘That’s what’s wrong, is it?’
‘We’ve given you news reports, maps, guidebooks, various technical manuals. Not a comprehensive selection, I’m afraid, but there should be enough to help you out. All put into your memory so it can be recalled at will. Just think of a question, and the answer will appear. I think. We didn’t have time to test it properly.’
Chang shook his head. ‘I’m all confused,’ he said. ‘It’s a very odd feeling, this. What was it? It was important.’
‘Well?’
‘Give me an hour. It may be my head will clear by then. I needed to talk to – what’s his name? The man in charge.’
‘Hanslip?’
‘That’s the one.’ Chang pursed his lips in determination. ‘That’s right. I need to see him. I found something else. It’s important. I mean, this whole idea …’
‘One more thing,’ the technician said. ‘When we send you, you are likely to be disoriented. At least, the bluebottles we’ve experimented on went completely crazy for a while, and simulations suggest a high likelihood of memory loss, confusion, even temporary madness. So we have linked some of your more important memories to another part of your brain to ensure you can remember who you are and why you are there. All you have to do is find them. The memories are associated with food. So when you arrive, the first thing you will need to do is eat something. All right?’
*
Two hours later, Chang got his third meeting with Hanslip in twenty-four hours and launched immediately into his final argument. ‘The thing is,’ he said with an air of desperation, ‘that I got hold of as many of this man Lytten’s publications as I could find, to see if there were any other references to Angela Meerson. I thought that if I could find something, then you would see that I wasn’t trying to deceive you.’
‘Were there?’ Hanslip asked.
‘Ah, no. There weren’t.’
‘What a surprise.’
‘What there was, however, was an article entitled “The Devil’s Handwriting”, published in 1959. It’s about an ancient manuscript, supposedly medieval although the author, this man Lytten, decided it was a fake. The story is that a man named Ludovico Spoletano summoned the devil and asked him to respond, in writing, to a question. The pen was taken by “an invisible power which suspended it in air”.’
Hanslip gazed balefully at him, so Chang hurried on before his patience was exhausted. ‘This manuscript was impossible to read, hence the attribution. Various people suggested that it was an Old Iberic script.’
‘Mr Chang?’ Hanslip p
rompted. ‘You are beginning to weary me.’
‘The point is that there’s an illustration.’
Chang fumbled in the folder he was gripping tightly in his hand, pulled out a few sheets and handed them nervously to Hanslip, who glanced at them, then bowed his head and studied them much more closely.
‘How fascinating,’ Hanslip said softly when he finished.
‘May I?’ Jack interrupted.
Hanslip handed over the papers. ‘The script,’ he explained. ‘You may not recognise it, but it is three lines of mathematics in the Tsou notation.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A method of compressing information, not unlike the way Chinese characters managed to squeeze multi-syllabic words into a couple of strokes. Each symbol is made up of many different elements, and can be unbundled to produce more orthodox notation.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘The point that Mr Chang is trying to make, I am sure, is that Tsou was only developed sixty years ago. The article in which this illustration was published supposedly dates back more than two hundred.’ Hanslip peered at Chang. ‘Is that correct?’
‘Yes. The reference to Angela appeared in 1960; the article including the Tsou notation was published in 1959.’
‘Supposedly,’ Hanslip added.
‘So what does that mean?’ Jack asked.
‘Well, that is a very good question. What indeed? Either this is genuinely old, or it is an elaborate hoax designed to make us think it is. Another attempt to throw us off the scent, so to speak.’
‘Now I think,’ Chang continued earnestly, ‘that it would surely be better if I concentrated on this, rather than going after Angela Meerson.’
Hanslip peered enquiringly. ‘Go on.’
‘The text says the complete manuscript is in the author’s possession. Henry Lytten, that is. I have discovered that his papers are supposed to be in the National Depository. The obvious thing would be to go and look first of all. Genuine or fake, if this document is there you will be able to recover the data you have lost, and finding Angela Meerson won’t be so important.’
‘Oh, I see! You are trying to disobey my orders,’ Hanslip said theatrically. ‘No chance of that, I’m afraid. I have no doubt that if I let you out, then you would abscond back to the renegades and I’d never see you or the data ever again, even if it exists. Sorry, Mr Chang. You are insufficiently trustworthy for such a task. Mr More here can follow your very useful lead. Your orders stand. Please don’t think I’m not appreciative.’
‘But what am I meant to do?’
‘You will see if you can find Angela, then get her to come back.’
‘How can she do that? She doesn’t have a machine …’
Hanslip peered at him. ‘When you have known her for as long as I have,’ he said, ‘you will know never, ever, to underestimate her. It will be your only route back as well, so you can think of it as an incentive to do as you’re told. Besides, I have given you a message to relay to her.’
‘What is it?’
‘It will come back to you if you meet her.’
*
Apart from the lab technicians, Jack was the only person to see Chang off when he was helped – rather pale and anxious, but calm because of the sedatives that had been poured in to stop him causing trouble – into the sphere of electricity. He had wished the strange, now rather pathetic man luck. He would, surely, need it.
‘I still don’t know how I’m meant to do this,’ he said as he sat in what they all hoped was period costume in the waiting room next door.
‘Find Angela Meerson, if she is to be found,’ Jack said. ‘Get her to return, if it is possible. Or let us know somehow.’
Chang seemed doubtful. ‘I suppose I could take out an advert in a newspaper that will survive. But that is assuming that she’s right about where I’m going. Make sure you look.’
‘Why did Hanslip get so annoyed by your idea? I thought he’d be pleased she might have been found.’
‘He thinks I’m undermining him. If the standard theory is correct, I am about to go to an alternative universe, and there can be no communication between us and it except by using the machine. If Angela is correct, then the machine may simply move us to a different moment of the same universe. Time travel, in fact. It’s what they were fighting about. He is desperate for Angela to be wrong. If I find her and manage to tell you about it, that means she is right.’
‘I know you scientists get worked up about such things, but …’
‘It’s not abstract,’ Chang said. ‘Hanslip sees himself as a sort of conquistador, finding new worlds to colonise. But if Angela is correct, then the machine would be too dangerous to use, as it would be impossible to control its effects. So Hanslip’s dreams of power and glory would have to be abandoned, or at least they would become prohibitively expensive. More to the point, no one would invest in it. That was Angela’s argument, and Hanslip evidently thought I was taking her side.’
‘Were you?’
‘No. I’m nowhere near good enough to have any opinion.’
‘You seem remarkably relaxed about all this, if I may say so.’
Chang smiled briefly as the technician approached.
‘Ready for you, sir,’ he said.
‘That’s the first time anyone here has ever called me sir,’ Chang said in a weak voice. ‘That’s really worrying.’
*
Jack reported personally to Hanslip that wherever Chang now was, he wasn’t in the sphere.
Hanslip ignored him until he had finished the report he was reading. ‘Thank you, Mr More.’
‘May I ask what you think his chances of success are?’
Hanslip frowned in puzzlement. ‘None whatsoever,’ he said.
‘So why send him?’
‘What business is that of yours?’
‘It would help to know what exactly I am doing, and why. At the moment I am very confused.’
‘Oh, very well. Mr Chang’s conclusions are undoubtedly as faked as Angela’s disappearance. The way he presented them is proof of that.’
‘How so?’
‘Firstly he made an immensely difficult search through a vast number of records with no experience of how to do it, and produced a result within a few hours, which is extraordinary to the point of being suspicious. Secondly, he claimed to have found a trace of Angela when, in fact, nearly two centuries of scientific work has established that it is impossible. Thirdly, when I said I planned to send him in the machine, he immediately produced yet another piece of evidence designed to make that unnecessary. Angela may have hidden the data amongst old historical documents. You will check, but I am certain that she will be found hiding out amongst the renegades. That’s why your main task will be to seek out her daughter.’
‘Her what?’ Jack asked in genuine astonishment.
‘The procedure to enhance her abilities produced a child as a by-product. A daughter, to be precise, who now goes under the name of Emily Strang. She is highly intelligent as well but proved herself to be unsuited for membership of the elite. She was assigned to the appropriate level of education for her considerable potential, but walked out at the age of fifteen after a long period of being uncooperative and disruptive. Even heavy doses of drugs made no difference to her attitude and eventually the system washed its hands of her. She became a renegade and now lives in a Retreat in the south.’
‘Was there some relationship with Angela?’
‘Not that I know of. Angela knows she exists, but the procedure diverted all her affective abilities onto her work. She doesn’t feel anything for the girl. Or she didn’t. It may be that recent difficulties unbalanced her. If so, there is a possibility that she formed a link between her work and her daughter. At least, that’s what the psychiatrists tell me; I’ve been consulting our in-house specialists. They think that there is a good chance you will find her by going through the child.’
‘What about that document with the Tsou notation that Ch
ang produced?’
‘It is a very small extract of her work,’ Hanslip said.
‘So surely finding the rest should be our main priority?’
‘I suspect that if you find one, you will find the other. Again, the daughter is the key. She is what is termed a historian. They dabble in the occult, these renegades, as I am sure you are aware; they all have some pointless obsession to which they attribute mystical importance. Emily Strang’s is the study of the past. Now, do you not think it a remarkable coincidence that this document is supposed to be hidden in the National Depository, when she is one of the few people who might be able to find it? I do not believe in coincidences, Mr More.’
Hanslip waved a hand to dismiss him. ‘Find out. If the daughter knows anything, have her arrested and brought here.’
Jack stood up to leave.
‘Here,’ Hanslip added. ‘New documentation for you. Until you are done, you are now a scientist, first class. The identity gives you full privileges. You may go anywhere, talk to anyone, without hindrance. You have access to our central funding. You need answer to no one except superiors in rank, and there aren’t many of those.’
Jack looked carefully at the documents Hanslip gave him, the qualifications, the educational profile, the psychometric test results, all showing that he was a very impressive character.
‘These look genuine.’
‘That’s because they are. Like most organisations, we keep a few ghosts on the payroll.’
Jack stood up. ‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘Chang made me concerned, just before he was transmitted.’
‘Well?’
‘He wasn’t worried. He was about to be put in an untested machine and potentially vaporised and he wasn’t worried.’
‘He was drugged, presumably.’
‘Not that much. I think he knew it worked. Has it been used before?’
‘Not with people.’
