Gemsigns

by Stephanie Saulter

  ‘Maybe she can, baby boy. But don’t you think she would have noticed by now?’

  ‘Maybe you have to be there when someone dies, to notice where they go.’ Gabriel liked this notion, and was clinging stubbornly to it. ‘I bet I could tell, if I were there when somebody died. When they were invisible, going to the invisible place, I’d hear what they were thinking.’

  Bal got his chortling under control. It was all getting a bit too macabre. ‘Maybe you could, Gabe. But you wouldn’t want to have to prove it.’

  21

  From his seat on the mezzanine level Eli could look down at the delegates as they approached the registration desk to slap passes onto identity scanners and slip tablets into docks. He was multitasking, checking the final running order and the dedicated links which had been coded to his tablet, flipping over from time to time to see what was happening on the external streams, and keeping an eye on the floor. The numbers were slowly increasing. He could hear a growing buzz of conversation from the lounge adjacent to the main hall, as coffee was collected and colleagues located.

  Every now and then a louder note punctuated the hum, an exclamation of greeting or surprise. He could not help wondering if any of the minor explosions of astonishment were due to his report. It was out there now, for better or worse, accessible on any tablet logged in to the Conference datastream; he would be presenting the key conclusions later that morning. It would be released to the press immediately afterwards. He could see them gathering, a little knot of journalists and vidcam operators coalescing between the entry doors and the inner barrier beyond which they were not, as yet, permitted to go. They darted forward from time to time, coaxing reactions and predictions out of the new arrivals. They would, he knew, be on the lookout for him, and he was grateful to have escaped the gauntlet.

  He had been the first delegate to register, arriving hard on the heels of the staff. Rob had been right to predict that he would find a return to sleep impossible. The confluence of the Conference, the second gem and the first norm deaths, and the seeming inability of the police to locate the godgang had fed the increasingly polarised vitriol on the socialstreams. He had read the early newstream reports and then started monitoring the exchanges, looking for patterns.

  There were few, a development which troubled him. When Aryel Morningstar had first directed him to the growing online antagonism he was sure that at least some of it was being quite deliberately seeded. There’d been a recurrence of themes and terms of abuse, a carefully casual precision to the damaging suggestions and embedded links. It was disturbing now to note that although this sense of organised malevolence had disappeared, there was no reduction in the volume of posts or the extremes of opinion. Despite the new randomness with which accusations and conclusions were delivered, the war of words was clearly escalating. Whoever had fuelled this fire had backed off and bowed out, leaving the acrimony they had stoked to burn hotter and brighter without any need for further intervention.

  The damage is done, he thought. They’ve got what they want. A popular schism, on opposite sides of which people will feel a need to line up.

  Just as Aryel had said.

  He glanced over the half-height mezzanine wall again. There was still no sign of her. The steady stream of anonymous faces was starting, however, to be punctuated by a few he recognised. There was a politician who had come to prominence by agitating for greater scrutiny of the gemtechs; supported the Declaration; continued to press for suffrage of competent gems; and expected to win their votes if successful. Her existing constituency was sufficiently liberal that she ran little risk of alienating one electorate by courting another. Hard on her heels came another representative, this time of an area struggling with long-term economic malaise, who had likewise criticised the gemtechs but had urged caution with respect to gems themselves.

  He spotted fellow academics, Tobias next to an even more splendidly robed female cleric, the chief executive of Gempro in the centre of a swarm of aides, and Robert Trench. The press who had clustered around the Gempro boss drifted away to collect around Rob as fast as decorum allowed. Eli suppressed a chuckle. Even from this distance the industry man’s body language betrayed his irritation.

  Attendants were on hand to help with equipment and answer questions. He could see four from where he sat. Powder-blue hair glimmered from the head of one of them.

  Rob must’ve arranged that. Nice touch.

  The Gempro contingent finished registering and swept out of view. Rob escaped the journos and bustled up to the desk. The gem attendant clearly recognised him, and they exchanged a few words as he registered. He kept looking around, peering ahead into the lounge as though trying to spot someone. Eli mouthed, ‘I’m here, on the balcony,’ into his earset and sent it as a message. Rob went still for a second, listening, then glanced up and nodded.

  He appeared on the mezzanine a moment later. He had not stopped for a coffee, and Eli could tell that he needed one. They had barely said hello when a heightened murmur from the floor below made them both turn and look down.

  Aryel Morningstar had arrived. Horace was with her, as were several other gems Eli did not recognise. He was surprised not to see Donal, but on reflection it made sense. Aryel would know that there would be people, among the press and the gemtechs in particular, who would make it their business to identify attending gems and their abilities. Donal’s had the potential to cause embarrassment.

  The press swarmed forward. Aryel’s party stopped, and she gestured the others to go ahead while she spoke to them. An array of vidcams were thrust in her face.

  ‘What more can they possibly expect her to say?’ Eli wondered aloud. He had watched the interviews from the latest crime scene that morning. She had been patient and thorough, sombre and articulate. The newstreams had got enough to keep their vidclips fresh until there was more actual news to report.

  He glanced at Rob. ‘You were very good too, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He nodded down at the floor. ‘She’s better.’

  Eli flicked his tablet over to the live newstream feeds, and found her. Rob adjusted his earset to pick up the tablet audio.

  … hopes for this Conference?

  ‘That it will affirm the fundamental equality of all human beings, and set us on the path to achieving an integrated and harmonious society.’

  Do you know anything more about the dreadful events in the City this morning? Have the missing gems been located?

  ‘Not that I’m aware of, but that is a matter for the police. I would just like to repeat our appeal to them to come forward. Only then can they tell their side of the story; only then can we truly understand what happened. And of course the woman who survived this morning’s attack may require medical treatment.’

  Aren’t you concerned that they may be dangerous?

  ‘Anyone may be dangerous. The capacity to do harm concerns me less than the willingness to use it.’

  They’ve been very willing, haven’t they?

  ‘What little we know about these people indicates that they’ve acted in self-defence. But,’ she held up a hand to forestall interruption, ‘I would absolutely agree that we do not have the full picture, and it will not be possible to make truly informed judgements until we do.’

  Aryel Morningstar, Newsbeat. I’m James Mudd, features editor. Would you please explain—

  ‘Mr Mudd, I’m very glad to meet you. We’ve been concerned about your reporter, George Brooks, who was attacked two nights ago. I trust he’s getting better?’

  On the feed Aryel’s face, brow furrowed in concern, looked up and slightly to one side of what Eli surmised must be the Newsbeat vidcam. Beside him Rob chuckled softly. The image shifted and panned out to capture the man who had spoken. He was clearly taken aback. For a moment it seemed as if he might say something rude in reply, but a quick glance told him that the exchange had a broader audience. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he said gruffly, ‘He’s doing very well.’
/>   ‘That’s good news. We wish him a speedy recovery.’

  She smiled, catching him off guard again as he tried to recapture whatever he had been about to accuse her of, and turned away, her attention shifting to another questioner as she began to move slowly towards the registration desk. The press corps shuffled along with her. By the time James Mudd realised that the moment had gone, so had she.

  Rob was still laughing quietly when Eli touched his shoulder and pointed over the mezzanine wall at a group that had entered behind Aryel’s entourage. Their progress had been impeded by the scrum of reporters. They were led by a man with the haughty, sharp-nosed features of a pre-Syndrome aristocrat. He wore a ferociously expensive suit and an expression of disdain that stopped barely short of disgust. A tall, blonde woman with red lips stood beside him, her hand on his arm. She leaned towards his ear, whispering something. There was a tension about the pair that told them she was preventing him from striding forward, scattering the people in front of them.

  Felix Carrington was evidently not used to waiting; certainly not, Eli thought, on gems. But Zavcka Klist held him back, and with a sharp glance at the rest of the Bel’Natur contingent, ensured that they held their places. As the crowd around Aryel elongated and thinned, they resumed their own progress towards the desk.

  A few of the journalists, the ones to whom she had already spoken, shifted their attention to the newcomers. James Mudd had apparently recovered, and approached Carrington and Klist. A few words were exchanged. Eli had the impression that Zavcka wanted to avoid catching up with Aryel.

  She finished registering and manoeuvred the bulk of her cloak through the access gate into the Conference proper. As soon as she had gone Zavcka said something that ended the Newsbeat interview. The Bel’Natur delegates moved briskly to register, Carrington pausing only to deliver what was apparently a stock sentence or two to the other reporters who thrust vidcams forward.

  ‘Interesting,’ Rob said. ‘No confrontation, then.’

  ‘Not out here, anyway.’

  Carrington appeared to be having some trouble registering his tablet. The blue-haired attendant came over to help. He ignored her, directing his question to her norm colleague who stood a bit further away. She recoiled at the snub. The other threw her an apologetic look as he stepped forward to assist.

  Even from this distance Eli could see the compression of Zavcka Klist’s lips, the coiled anger in her body. She stood one station over from Carrington, and was not, he suspected, having any problems at all. Nevertheless she looked up and said something to the gem woman, smiling graciously. The woman approached, the blue head bent over the equipment for a moment, then she straightened up and nodded at Zavcka. Carrington appeared to be itching to go, but she made him wait while she thanked the attendant. The others clutched their tablets awkwardly. Then the entire group swept beneath them, and out of sight.

  ‘Well,’ said Eli.

  ‘Not exactly housetrained yet, is he?’

  ‘You’d think he would at least have learned to fake it.’

  *

  They descended. Rob muttered something about checking in with the events team, and scurried off. Eli surveyed the crowded lounge, trying to plot a course that was least likely to intersect with anyone to whom he would have to speak.

  The gemtech delegations were dotted around the room, on the fringes where there were chairs and tables at which one could sit and review the Conference documents. In most of their clusters it was a functionary, an aide to the most senior executive probably, who feverishly flipped through the links as they tried to assess what was coming. Except in the Bel’Natur group, where the blonde head of Zavcka Klist was bent fixedly over her tablet. He had no doubt as to what she was reading, or what her reaction would be.

  He was less certain about Aryel’s, and felt a stab of guilt that it was not all as she might have wished. But then she had never said precisely what conclusions she hoped he would come to, nor suggested that his findings should be other than his own best judgement dictated. He spotted her, small hands wrapped around a steaming cup as she chatted to the pro-gem politician.

  She was dressed as always, swathed throat to hump to toes in her charcoal-black cloak, in marked contrast to the crisp stylishness of the rest of the room. But they collected about her anyway, and the enveloping darkness of her garb seemed merely to underscore the strange gravitational pull she exerted. He watched for a moment, mentally sorting them out into those genuinely seeking an opportunity to join the conversation, and others trying, and failing, to look as though they were doing something besides listening in. She stood easy and strangely elegant in the middle of it, sipping her coffee, for all the world as though she were a fashionable guest at a glamorous party and not a misshapen piece of former property.

  The other gems were far less relaxed. They congregated near one of the entrances to the auditorium, hair glowing in every colour of the rainbow. Aryel’s companions had been joined by the few other gem delegates, and as soon as the doors were released they slipped inside.

  Eli made to follow them, but was delayed by Tobias wanting to introduce him to the bishop, then a fellow researcher from Prague saying hello, then the cautious politician waving his tablet.

  ‘I’ve just read your introduction,’ he said. ‘This is— I don’t understand. What you’re suggesting—’

  ‘I’ll do my best to explain in the presentation.’

  ‘But don’t you understand the implications? What it’ll mean?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  He left the man standing open-mouthed and strode towards the doors. Zavcka Klist looked up and saw him from the other side of the room. Her face was livid. He caught her eye and inclined his head, a cold greeting, and then he reached the exit and was out.

  *

  The gems had commandeered the centre rows at the rear of the small auditorium. They sat three deep, backs to the door and faces forward.

  Clever. They get to look down on everyone else for a change. It’s tough to belittle someone you know is staring holes in the back of your head.

  His own seat was reserved at the very front. He stopped to say hello to Horace, who had regained the self-possession he had lost on the night of Nelson’s murder but was far more subdued than at their first meeting. As Eli glanced back he saw Gaela. She was standing next to a uniformed officer, tucked against the rear of the auditorium where she could see everyone who entered but was unlikely to be noticed herself.

  They’ve got her scanning the delegates. Good lord. He smiled a greeting and she nodded back.

  *

  When someone who was not Rob slid into Rob’s seat beside him he didn’t need to look up. ‘Hello, Miss Klist. We’re still on speaking terms?’

  ‘Dr Walker. This could have been such a beautiful friendship.’

  ‘I sincerely doubt that.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you were this eager to be the centre of attention. I suspect you’ll find you don’t like it.’

  ‘What I would like,’ he said evenly, ‘would be for people to stop expecting me to behave like a politician. I don’t come to conclusions based on whose agenda suits me best. If the data – including the data you provided – supported a different result, that’s what I’d be presenting. As for personal consequences, I didn’t get into this to become rich, or famous, or popular. I took this job in order to tell the truth. In your world that might indicate a shocking lack of ambition, but I don’t live in your world. And I don’t want to.’

  ‘You may find us difficult to ignore.’

  ‘I hope not.’ He smiled as pleasantly as he could manage. ‘I understand that Gerin Provis is doing very well now, but doesn’t like changes to his routine. I’d hate to have to disturb him.’

  He let himself enjoy it then, the shocked widening of the smokedark eyes, the slackened jaw and stunned expression as she processed the name.

  Gerin. An early interview, before the formal commission to produce the report, before the Declaration
even. Later removed to a care home, under vehement Bel’Natur protest. Prototype retinal scanner in a human skin. Not that that’s what his genetype file had recorded, or what anyone had guessed. Eli remembered only huge, pale eyes that took up half his face, over a harelip and a nose with the cartilage so undeveloped as to barely be noticeable; and the way he had thrust that grim head forward, grunting vapid, monosyllabic answers into the awkward space between questions, as he stared unblinking into Eli’s eyes from a few inches away.

  Now Eli looked deliberately up towards the back of the auditorium, searching for the glow of Gaela’s fiery hair, and felt Zavcka Klist follow his gaze. It took a few seconds to sink in.

  When she looked back at him again it was with pure, naked rage. He watched as she absorbed the realisation that she had been outflanked; as she weighed alternatives, and judged this too dangerous a road to travel; and as she pulled back the anger, filing it away somewhere to grow hard and implacable. It lasted no more than a second. The harshly beautiful face composed itself. He kept his own still, even as he felt his insides shrink and go cold.

  ‘Gerin,’ she said quietly. ‘Well. I’d almost forgotten about him.’

  ‘It’s so easy to lose track of one’s tools, once the task is complete.’ His voice was steady, a fact of which he felt unreasonably proud.

  ‘And so easy to choose the wrong ones. It’s surprising that a man so committed to veracity would ally himself with those who withhold so much.’

  She shifted in her chair, glancing up to where delegates were streaming in through the doors. A hint of viciousness crept back into her voice as she watched Aryel Morningstar make her way to a specially shaped seat. ‘Or maybe you do know more than you’ve said. I wonder. How far have they trusted you, Dr Walker? With the deepest and darkest, the holy of holies?’

  He thought immediately of Gabriel, and of the other secrets that Gabriel implied. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t you? You should.’ She looked back at him. ‘What’s she hiding under that cape, Dr Walker? You want to reveal an important truth? How about that one?’