Heaven is a Place on Earth

by Graham Storrs

  Ginny stepped forward, looking alarmed. “Rafe, I just need a name. You said you knew computer people. Good ones. I...” She hesitated. “I need to break into somewhere and look at a file. You're the only person I know who might have contacts like that. It's just a name. Then we'll leave you alone.”

  He frowned at her. “What the hell are you doing, Ginny? I thought you were going to keep your head down until all this is over.”

  “I can't do that, Rafe. I need to try to stop it – whatever it is. You're a journalist. Don't you want to know what's going on?”

  Rafe looked away. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  The sheer shiftiness of his gesture and tone made Della suspicious. “Did your feed publish those September 10 documents?” she asked.

  He didn't answer at once and Della saw Ginny's mouth fall open in dismay. “Oh, Rafe!”

  “Becky wouldn't go for it. We had a discussion and the conclusion was that if S10 wanted us to publish them, it was probably a bad idea.”

  “The plebiscite vote is today,” Ginny said.

  “So you've handed everything over to the police?” Della didn't believe he had for a moment and Rafe's glare confirmed it.

  The journalist stood up and gesticulated. “We don't even know what all that stuff means. It could have been deliberately leaked to mislead us, to implicate innocent people. September 10 are not the good guys.”

  “Mate, you're just full of shit,” Della said, and, to Ginny, “Come on. This bloke's as much use as tits on a bull.” It seemed like a good opportunity to get Ginny away and put a stop to the whole break-in plan, but Ginny stayed where she was.

  “Never mind the documents,” she said. “There's still time, anyway. The plebiscite is only to give the government a mandate to bring its legislation forward. We just need to make sure the right people get to see the documents. Isn't that right, Rafe?”

  The journalist tightened his jaw and turned away. To his back, Ginny said. “All right. Just give me a name, someone who can get this file for me. I won't even say you sent me.”

  Rafe didn't move as the seconds ticked by. Then he made a few, rapid hand gestures as he worked with a virtual display Della could not see. A business card appeared in his hand and he gave it to Ginny.

  “Thank you,” Ginny said, accepting the information transfer, and, with a glance at Della, she made for the door.

  “Ginny?” Rafe said, as they were leaving. “I'm sorry.”

  Chapter 15

  “Let's take a walk,” Della said and asked the teleporter for the Enchanted Forest.

  “Seriously?” Ginny asked.

  “Ah yeah, it's where I always go when I need to do some serious thinking.”

  “It's a bit pricey. There are plenty of open source forests you know.”

  “Ah but they're not like this one. We should get in costume too.” She called up a menu and selected a couple of outfits. “Don't worry, it's all on my account.” For herself, she chose a Sleeping Beauty outfit straight out of the ancient Disney movie. For Ginny, she selected a fairy godmother dress complete with sparkles, tiara, and magic wand.

  Ginny lifted the voluminous skirt of her dress and examined her glittering high-heeled pumps. “Not exactly walking boots,” she said.

  “Like it matters. You look lovely. Come on.”

  They stepped through the portal into the lushest, greenest forest imaginable. Exotic blooms the size of dustbin lids caught sunbeams from the high leafy canopy above them. Brightly-coloured birds flitted through the undergrowth, and a group of dappled deer looked up from their browsing at the far edge of the clearing and, seeing it was only them, returned to their meal. A stream gurgled out of sight and a pond nearby had water lilies with smiling frogs sitting on their lilly pads. As Della watched, a dragonfly brushed the surface of the water as it swooped by, setting the air tinkling with a delicate arpeggio.

  Ginny burst out laughing. “Oh my God! This is so kitsch!”

  “I find it quite relaxing. Just try to enjoy it instead of looking at it with your jaded designer's eyes. Look. Watch this.” She raised an arm and put out a finger, as if pointing to something. After a moment a tiny blue bird fluttered down to land on it, singing its little heart out.

  “Oh now that's cute.” Ginny put out her own finger and soon had her own little bluebird. She stroked its head and it rubbed itself against her hand.

  Della smiled, seeing her friend's critical attitude evaporate. She lifted her finger and the bluebird flew away. “Let's go that way,” she said, indicating a grassy track between the trees.

  They walked along in silence for a minute or two. They passed a gingerbread cottage on their left and, to the right, distant, snow-capped mountains with a pure white, many-turreted castle could be glimpsed through the trees. As they walked, Ginny's dress rustled and brushed across the grass. She looked quite striking with her hair up and the wings of the high collar framing her face.

  “Nice, isn't it?” Della said.

  “It's amazing. Is that a unicorn?”

  They both stopped to admire the mythical beast as it stooped to drink from a forest stream.

  Della took a deep breath and said, “I know Rafe gave you a contact, but I don't think you should use it. In fact, I think you should drop the whole thing. Rafe's bottled out. Those documents are never going to be published and they're never going to the police. He's too scared.” Ginny didn't say anything but carried on walking, her head bowed in thought.

  “Which leaves you on your own, with no evidence of anything, some half-formed notion of what this is all about, an illegal firearm, at least three organisations probably watching you, and a crazy plan to burgle my employer.”

  Ginny glanced around. “I don't feel comfortable talking about this in here.”

  Della felt a twinge of irritation. “Who's going to be monitoring us? The police? ASIO? So what? They're on our side – or they would be if you'd go and tell them what you know.”

  “You know I don't trust them.”

  “But that's just – ” She stopped herself. No point in calling her friend names, however much she deserved it. She tried a different tack. “All right, what do you expect to find in an internal report on the Rice Consortium? What would make it worth the risk of finding?”

  Ginny stopped walking and threw up her arms. Tiny stars trailed from the end of her magic wand. “I don't know. There must have been something juicy in there to make your boss react so badly. Whatever it is, maybe it will lead us on to other things, give us some clues so we're not completely in the dark.”

  Della shook her head. “It doesn't sound like much to risk us both going to prison for.”

  “Look, when I told you about leaving that package for Gavin...” For an instant, Della thought, Who the hell is Gavin? It all seemed so long ago. “...you were all concerned about how innocent kids might pick it up and find something in it that might hurt them. Remember? You poured guilt on me by the bucketful. You were all, 'Oh, think about those poor children! How could you, you evil bitch?' Well, nothing's changed. These people – S10, the Consortium, whoever – they're planning something that's going to hurt people. Innocent people. Why aren't you worried about that?”

  Della couldn't help smiling at Ginny's impression of her. Even so, she thought her friend was being wilfully obtuse. “It's different now. You know it is.”

  “How? How is it different?”

  “Oh, come on! Back then we thought maybe there was some kind of petty crime going on – drug dealing or something. Now we've got a dead terrorist and gunfights on rooftops and sinister people tailing you. Don't you think you might be just a teensy bit out of your depth?” One of the little deer came over and nuzzled at Della's hand. She snatched the hand away and snapped, “Not now, you stupid bloody animal.” Wide-eyed with alarm, it turned and bounded into the forest. When she looked back at Ginny she found her friend staring at her with a sad expression.

  “It's OK, Del. I understand if you don't want to get involved
. I just get a bit carried away.”

  “Ginny, it's not that, I – ”

  “No, really, it's all right. Look, we've never been all that close. Not really. Not like I can turn up on your doorstep with some crazy story about terrorists and ask you to risk everything to help me work it out.” Della began protesting but Ginny cut her off again. The whole scene, with them in their flouncy dresses and big-eyed animals watching them from the cover of that ridiculously lush forest, made Della wish she'd just taken Ginny back to her unit and they'd done this over a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

  “I'll move out to a hotel or something. I shouldn't be asking you to break into your own company's accounts. You shouldn't have anything to do with this. I don't know what I was thinking. It's much better if I do what I have to on my own and don't drag you into anything illegal.”

  Ginny attempted a reassuring smile but Della just stared. She couldn't get past the part where Ginny had said they weren't that close. “We've been friends since uni,” she said. “All those nights when we got pissed and bitched about blokes and how you were going to do great things and set the world straight. Remember? With Kate and Maggie and that creepy girl from the Genetics department with the animated tattoos. What was her name?” Ginny smiled sadly but said nothing. “You're my best friend, Ginny. You were then and you still are. How can we not be that close?”

  Ginny struggled to find the right words. “I didn't mean it like that. I just... It's... You were always the sensible one.”

  “Not that again.”

  “I know I say it a lot but you are. Look at me. I'm a failure. I had big dreams and ridiculous ambitions, but I never did anything right. I never took the right courses, focused on the things I wanted, pushed my way into the right circles, seized the opportunities that came along, made openings for myself. Now it's all too late. I've frittered away whatever talent I have on bloody soundscapes and corporate morons who'd be just as happy with computer-generated rubbish, and now I've got no work, no money, and no prospects. Kate's the same. She was going to be this big civil rights lawyer but she's a junior solicitor in a grubby little firm of ambulance chasers. She hasn't even done any pro bono work in years. You're the only one of us who did just what she said she would. You're the only one who actually succeeded.”

  Della gaped in amazement. “I'm a middle manager in a massive mining conglomerate! That's your idea of success, is it?”

  “No, it's yours. I remember you telling me right from the start that what you wanted was a secure, solid career, a steady climb within some major corporation, good money, a comfortable lifestyle, a good pension and an early retirement. I actually laughed when you told me. I was so up myself, so full of pretentious crap about art and music and creative freedom.”

  Della did remember, she remembered the envy she felt over Ginny's effortless talent, and how happy she'd been to have such a circle of exciting, fascinating friends. Della had never been the sensible one, she'd been the frightened one, the one who dressed up her feelings of inadequacy with harangues on stability and a life of quiet, productive contribution. Even back then she knew she was a complete fraud.

  “I like your soundscapes,” she said, quietly. “I sometimes take people to the National Museum and make them listen and I tell them my friend did that.”

  Ginny blinked but said nothing. With a small, shy smile, she said, “Last year, I took a tour of the Kimberley bauxite mines, just to see one of your division's big projects. It was completely awesome. I hardly dared speak to you for a month afterwards, I was so impressed.”

  Della felt her throat constrict. She stepped forward and took Ginny into her arms and held her tight, grinning, even as her eyes filled with tears. They hugged in silence as the forest creatures came out of hiding and smooched and fluttered around them.

  “So, no more talk of moving to a hotel?” Della said, holding her friend out from her. She choked up again at the sight of the tears on Ginny's cheeks, the quick flash of gratitude in her eyes.

  “I shouldn't ask you to – ”

  “You see, that's where you're wrong.” A wave of lightness surged up through Della's body making her feel almost giddy. “This is important, and you need my help. For once in my life, let me do something crazy and stupid in a good cause. I'm fed up of feeling ashamed of myself.”

  Chapter 16

  They stepped out of the teleport onto bare rock. Grey cloud roiled in a threatening sky and a cold wind whipped at their cloaks and hair. Behind them the sky was vast and empty. The ledge on which they stood ended abruptly, exposing the gaping, monstrous space between the ragged peaks of lesser mountains. Ahead, a staircase thirty metres wide, cut through the basalt cliff, rose towards a grim stone castle, piled in countless buttressed walls and soaring towers to scrape at the base of the lowering cloud.

  “If he thinks I'm walking up all those bloody steps, he's got another think coming,” Della said, raising her voice above the clamouring wind. “Hey! Sorenssen! What the hell is this?”

  Ginny looked troubled. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm not sure this guy can be quite right in the head – what with the costumes and the castle and everything.”

  Della had been thinking the same thing. The journalist's computer specialist friend might be the genius Rafe thought he was, but that didn't stop him being not the full quid. They'd called to set up an appointment and Sorenssen's personal assistant – a construct in the form of a gnarled and toothless old man in a hooded cloak – had set up the meeting. When they arrived, the old man simulation greeted them in a room that looked like an ancient crypt and told them they must appear in costume for the “audience” – as he put it.

  Della had almost baulked right there when she saw herself and Ginny in their outfits. Fantasy Classic, the style was usually called – thigh-boots, leather straps everywhere, swords, wristbands, and big hairdos were the basis of the look. Ginny's outfit was, essentially, a white bodystocking and featured a short, low-cut golden breastplate. Her own comprised a tiny loincloth and a matching tiny bra and little else. Frowning in the mirror at her outsize breasts and muscular thighs, she growled, “This definitely violates the twenty per cent rule.”

  Ginny looked at her anxiously.

  “Oh, don't worry. I'm not backing out. If this Sorenssen creep likes his visitors to look like porn stars, why should I care? As long as he delivers on Rafe's promises.”

  And now they were standing on a wind-scoured mountaintop with their cloaks snapping like flags.

  “Sorenssen!” Della tried to keep herself from getting angry and upsetting Ginny, but this was all too much. “If you don't – ”

  Suddenly the old man PA was with them. He was stooped and clung to a long staff as gnarled as he was as if it was all that prevented the wind from blowing him over the cliff. “My Ladies,” he said, bowing low. “If you will come closer, I will take you to my Lord.” Della and Ginny exchanged glances but stepped over to the old man. “Please,” he said, “place your hands on my staff.”

  Della took a firm grip of the shaft, glowering at the PA, and Ginny tentatively followed suit. Light filled the air, so intense it washed out all vision, then cleared slowly.

  The two women were in a large stone chamber – inside the castle, Della supposed. Straw rustled beneath their feet as they turned. Torches guttered in brackets on the walls and pillars, casting a shifting, uncertain light on the high, vaulted ceiling. The old man simulation backed away from them. Guards in armour and helmets eyed them from the dim edges of the room, firelight glinting on their breastplates, long pikes in their gloved hands. At one end of the room, on a raised platform, a giant of a man lounged in a massive wooden throne. He was dressed in furs and leather and sported a bushy red beard and long, braided red hair. His bare arms were muscled beyond credibility and his blue eyes regarded the two women from beneath heavy brows. At his feet lay two lionesses, also watching the women.

  “You Sorenssen?” Della demanded, stepping forward. She felt annoyed almost beyond rest
raint at this childish show. It was a trend becoming more popular all the time, especially among the young, to build elaborate worldlets on fantastic themes and inflict them on everyone who called. It was a trend Della hated. Even by modern standards, this one was way over the top.

  The giant spoke. “I am Odin, King of the gods of Asgard.”

  Della strode up to him on her newly-acquired long legs and glared into his too-blue eyes. The lionesses shifted and grumbled. “Odin, eh? Well, I was expecting a scrawny computer geek with acne and a swagful of nervous habits. Men hvis du virkelig er Odin, jeg tror vi kom til feil sted.

  “Er...” said the king of the gods.

  “It's Norwegian, you fuckwit. Call up a translator. Or, better still, cut all the crap and let's talk business.”

  “Er...” he said again.

  Della lost patience. She turned to Ginny. “That's it. I reckon I've had enough pissing about in this galah's masturbatory fantasy. Let's go and find someone a bit more mature to talk to.”

  “Jeez, talk about not getting into the spirit of the thing,” said Sorenssen. His appearance hadn't changed, nor had the bass rumble of his voice, but his tone certainly had. Della eyed him with a sour expression. “A lot of people find all this really cool,” he said.

  “Well, a lot of people don't. Have we finished playing now?”

  Sorenssen sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever. What did you want to see me about?”

  Della glanced at Ginny, giving her the floor, and walked a few paces away.

  “Did Rafe tell you why we're here?” Ginny asked the sulky giant.

  “Not really. He said you needed help getting hold of some information.”

  “Well, that's true. But the information is in someone else's file system.”

  Sorenssen sucked his teeth. He looked across at Della who stared back at him with such contempt that he quickly looked away. “Whose data do you want me to steal?” he asked.

  “It's a corporation. A big one.”

  “Industrial espionage?” he asked, in a tone that implied such an act was both boring and tacky. Perhaps feeling he had the moral high ground, he turned back to Della. “Another mining company?”