by Eliza Green
Bill heaved a sigh of relief—this was something he could do. ‘No lies. Promise,’ he said.
‘And what if we get caught? What will be the consequences?’
‘Ach, I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that one,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you and I both know what the World Government is capable of.’
Jenny stared at him for quite some time, and then clapped her hands once, making him jump.
‘Okay—I’ve made my decision. I’ll do it, but you’ll have to give me some time to prepare.’
‘Great!’ Bill said, proffering his hand. ‘Welcome to the team, Captain Waterson.’
Chapter 20
Assured of Jenny’s help, Bill pushed on with the preparations for their trip to Exilon 5. He needed to sort out the replica identity chips that Stephen had given him. Stephen had explained that the chips were blanks—they had no data stored on them—and for them to work they needed to be uploaded with new identities.
From his contact list, Bill had picked out the only person he knew who specialised in nano technology. As a sideline, Harvey Buchanan had set up a business trading illegal tech on the black market and he was only in it for one reason: to make a profit. Bill and Laura arranged to meet Harvey in the north-eastern sector of Russia, half way between London and Sydney. Laura needed to come too as it was the only way to switch her real identity for her replica. He assured her the trip should take no longer than an hour by spacecraft.
Although travelling by spacecraft was risky—it was easy for the government to track their movements that way—what they did in Russia, once they reached there, could not be so readily monitored. Laura had briefed Callum Preston to wipe their names off the travel log when they arrived at Magadan in Russia, and again after they got back. Laura scheduled a day off work at the ESC so they were less likely to question her whereabouts.
Bill and Laura travelled on different flights, Bill arriving at Magadan docking station ahead of Laura. He waited for her outside. In this part of the world, the clouds seemed denser, more constricting than they were elsewhere. The frozen landscape was enveloped by an eerie atmosphere and the air was bone-chillingly cold. Bill was thankful he’d remembered to dress for the occasion. He’d been to the northernmost parts of Norway and Finland before—countries on the same latitude as this part of Russia—but somehow they’d seemed warmer. Magadan should be about four degrees centigrade in August, but it felt much colder—below zero at least.
His heavy overcoat seemed to be completely ineffective in these temperatures. He couldn’t stop shivering and pulled it tighter around him. He checked the functionality of his gel mask: each breath fogged it up and the condensation instantly crystallised into ice. He marched around outside to stave off the worst of the chill while he waited for Laura to arrive.
Eventually she emerged from the docking station and Bill shuddered with relief. It was clear to him that Laura wasn’t dressed for the Siberian weather and she shivered violently when she stepped outdoors, her face contorting beneath her gel mask. Bill couldn’t help grinning at her reaction; he’d warned her about the extreme cold here and her current get-up was a sign that she had shunned his advice. It can’t be helping her Seasonal Affective Disorder, he thought.
Pretending they didn’t know each other, they walked towards the automated transport that would bring them to the centre of Magadan. They were to be picked up there by one of Harvey’s Russian ‘associates’ Ten minutes later, the vehicle dropped them outside the city’s underground bullet train station and they walked towards the nearest replication terminal.
‘Harvey said to wait by the one with the silver door,’ Bill said quietly.
There was only one place that matched that description.
‘It’s fff … freezing here. I don’t fff … function well in cold weather,’ said Laura, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body.
‘I told you to dress for the occasion!’
‘I th …th … thought you were joking. It feels’—her tongue was thick in her mouth—‘like we’ve wa … walked into a fff … freezer.’
It hadn’t snowed in Russia for decades, ever since the thick bulbous clouds of smog had prevented either the sun or moisture from reaching the planet’s surface. There was only one weather measurement to keep an eye on now—the temperature.
‘I thought you said you could handle anything, that you liked a challenge,’ Bill teased.
‘I can’t remember sa … saying that. You’re slowly trying to kill me. I rrr … realise that now.’ The words tumbled out awkwardly, only half of it coherent. ‘Ss … so where is he?’ She jumped up and down, her mask filling with ice crystals with every frosty breath. ‘What ddd … does he look like?’
‘No idea, but Harvey assured me his man would be hard to forget,’ Bill said, turning up the collar on his overcoat and trying hard not to shudder with the cold; he could cope with anything the planet threw at him.
Neither of them noticed the average-looking man who suddenly appeared from the right. ‘You looking for Harvey?’ he said in broken English with a heavy Russian inflection. He looked sideways at them. He was a small, stocky man with bushy eyebrows and wearing a pair of sunglasses. The bottom half of his face was covered with a scarf.
Bill nodded. ‘Is it far?’
‘Come.’
The pair followed the Russian a short distance to an alleyway, where another vehicle waited for them.
‘Get in. I explain,’ he said as he held the door open for them.
Bill hopped into the front; Laura climbed tentatively into the back. It was warm inside, but it still took her a few moments to stop shivering. The Russian walked round to the driver’s side and climbed in. He removed the scarf and glasses from his face. Bill glanced at him and gasped once. Laura, wondering what was wrong with Bill, looked at their driver too and let out a quiet groan.
The Russian turned and gave them both a gruesome smile. Part of his face was missing. On his right cheek and below his chin, he had no skin; all they could see was exposed flesh, bone and sinews held together by a clear gelatine substance; his right eyeball rolled around in its slimy socket, as if it had a life of its own.
Bill couldn’t take his eyes off the driver, sickened and fascinated at the same time; Laura had averted her eyes quickly. Neither of them were used to seeing injuries as bad as that—nowadays, nanoid technology could easily fix it.
‘I test new technology. Sometimes it do not work,’ the Russian said, shrugging as if it was quite normal. He turned to face the road and the vehicle moved off. ‘Harvey wait inside door of Medical Centre. I leave you nearby. Okay?’
‘That’s fine,’ Bill said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
It seemed like a lifetime until they reached the city’s disused Medical Centre. Bill was glad to be leaving the driver’s company, and by the colour of Laura’s face, she was too, even if it meant venturing out into the cold again. When she stepped outside, she didn’t complain. Bill took the lead and pushed open the door to the Centre.
Harvey Buchanan was waiting for them inside. He was a man of average build and height, with sandy-coloured hair and shifting eyes. He wore an open white lab coat over his regular clothes and was leaning casually against the wall, his hands thrust into the pockets of his coat. He and Bill shook hands, then Harvey turned his attention to Laura and without speaking, he looked her up and down. Bill could tell it made Laura feel uncomfortable.
Officially, Harvey worked in Nanoid Valley and used his day job as a cover for a more lucrative business: he gave the underworld access to emerging technology by rescuing failed prototypes that were destined for the incinerator. As a World Government employee, he took a massive risk by becoming involved in black market trade, although it would have surprised no one had it turned out that the government controlled the black market. A while ago, the Valley’s original name—Silicon Valley—had become defunct when silicon was discarded as a semi-conductor in favour of a ne
w metalloid compound called malinium. The compound was five hundred per cent more effective than silicon as a semi conductor.
‘So, now that the introductions are done, shall we get to work?’ Harvey suggested. His eyes shifted strangely, Bill noticed, and he wondered if Laura had seen it too.
They followed him down several junk-filled corridors, side-stepping various obstacles along the way.
‘There’s no power here,’ Harvey explained as they went up a flight of stairs and into another corridor.
They seemed to walk for miles. Bill had completely lost his bearings and didn’t like feeling so disorientated. At last, Harvey stopped at a large metal door and waved his thumb over a plate. They heard a clicking sound and he pushed the door open. The room inside was a complete contrast with the rest of the building they’d just walked through. It was clean and tidy, and decked out with shiny expensive equipment.
‘This is one of the many rooms we use for testing,’ Harvey said. ‘And yes, it’s funded by the black market. I assume you saw Vladimir’s face?’
‘What happened to him?’ Laura asked. ‘He didn’t go into detail.’
Harvey laughed a bit too hard. ‘Neither will I. Don’t worry, he gets paid handsomely for his work, and he volunteers his time—no one forces him to do it.’
‘Can’t he just—’ Laura couldn’t find the right words.
‘Get it fixed?’ Harvey suggested.
Laura nodded once.
‘’Fraid not—we’ve screwed with his genetic code too many times. It’s past fixing. The best we can do is gel up his face. It doesn’t hurt—so he says—so don’t feel too sorry for him. You’ve heard of nano technology?’
‘Yes,’ Laura replied.
‘Most of the black market business comes from those who are looking to alter appearances—physical manipulation, that sort of thing,’ Harvey explained. ‘They want to change into someone else, either for aesthetic reasons or because they want to evade the law. We don’t ask questions here. Then the manipulation clinics try to hide the work we do. While the manipulation clinics use nanoids to help repair cells damaged through injury, we use them for other purposes. Identity theft or creating brand new identities, both of which are illegal, is a profitable business. The nanoids have been reprogrammed to add new cells to a body, which is why Vladimir’s face is so messed up.’
Laura frowned, which only seemed to make Harvey’s smile widen. ‘The rejected nanoid prototypes have the ability to increase our cell structure count,’ he went on. ‘Instead of simply replacing what people lose, we’ve reprogrammed the nanoids to create additional cells outside of what is genetically predetermined. Impressed?’ he said looking straight at Laura.
‘What does that achieve?’ Laura asked.
Harvey took a step closer to her. She didn’t move. Bill had to fight the urge to step between them.
‘Instant muscle mass, for vanity reasons; additional brain cells to increase intelligence. Well, that last one is still theory,’ Harvey said, waving one hand in the air. ‘The problem is that we haven’t perfected the technology, which is why Nanoid Valley rejected it in the first place. Vlad and other volunteers are helping us to work out the kinks. Vlad’s been tested so many times, it isn’t safe to continue, and he’s no longer a good test subject. He doesn’t care about the side-effects; for him, the financial payoff is worth it.’
‘I don’t see how he can have a normal life like that,’ Laura said.
Harvey looked at her for a long time, squinting as if he was measuring her up for something. A flush of pink coloured her cheeks. She looked at the floor. Bill could feel a surge of anger rise from deep within, and he barely restrained himself from challenging Harvey on her behalf.
‘His face is still functional and he has a better lifestyle because of the money. Isn’t that all that matters?’
Laura swallowed and raised her eyes to meet his, as if challenging him. ‘But what about personal relationships, or having a family? Isn’t that more important?’
‘I’m not sure Vlad sees it that way. He’s set up for life now. When it gets too cold here he can afford to go elsewhere, buy a place of his own instead of being stuck in one of the housing blocks the government has built. I hear they’re a nightmare.’ He kept his eyes locked on her while he spoke.
Eventually, Harvey turned his attention to Bill. ‘I like this one. She’s feisty. Is she single?’
Bill laughed. ‘I’m afraid not,’ was all he said.
Harvey put his hands up. ‘Sorry, am I stepping on your toes? I didn’t mean to make a move on your girl.’
‘I’m nobody’s girl,’ Laura said.
Bill laughed again. ‘You heard the lady,’ he said through gritted teeth, and slapped Harvey on the back. ‘Now, can we get down to business? We don’t have much time.’
Harvey held his hands up. ‘Okay, okay. I’m going to need a little something from you first though.’ He held out his hand, palm upwards, and wiggled his fingers at Bill.
Bill fished around in his pocket, pulled out one of Stephen’s blank identity chips and handed it to him. Harvey placed it under a microscope.
‘This is an amazing bit of engineering—I’m impressed! It looks exactly the same as an original.’ He looked up. ‘Tell me how it works.’
‘Let’s sort out the new identities first,’ Bill replied.
‘Fine. But you’re not leaving here until you tell me about this,’ he said, looking at the image of the magnified chip. ‘So what else do you want—facial manipulation, reset the nose, move the eyes father apart, remove distinguishing features? Anything in particular?’
Out of the corner of his eye, Bill could see Laura’s mouth open slightly and her eyes widen. ‘I need just the chips uploaded with the new identities,’ he said.
‘Who created the blank chips?’ Harvey looked up.
‘That’s confidential I’m afraid.’
Harvey looked through the magnification lens again. ‘Come now, Bill—you know that nothing’s confidential on the black market. One call and I can have someone in here to beat it out of you.’
Bill noticed Laura move towards a bench running along one wall that had several instruments on it, including a silver laser scalpel.
‘I’ll tell you how they work, but the source stays with me,’ Bill said coolly.
Harvey stood up and he and Bill stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Harvey shrugged. ‘You’re a good player, Bill Taggart. I’ll give you that,’ he said slowly, deliberately.
Laura visibly relaxed.
‘You need to deactivate our chips. I assume you have a couple of personas you can lend us?’ Bill asked.
‘Yes and no. Yes, I have the identities ready to go, but I don’t know how to match the identity chip to your DNA—or how to deactivate your original. It’s never been done before—not successfully, that is.’
‘My source left me detailed instructions. I’ll talk you through it,’ Bill said. ‘I don’t have the equipment to do this, but clearly you have.’ He nodded at the well-stocked lab.
‘Okay, I’ll give it a go, but I can’t promise anything,’ Harvey said nonchalantly.
He motioned for Bill to sit in a chair. On the bench were tools of all shapes and sizes. A strong light bathed the area. Harvey followed the instructions that Bill gave him and tackled the first part of the problem—matching the DNA.
‘You have to complete this part first before you deactivate our originals,’ Bill said. ‘If you sever the link it won’t work.’
Harvey grabbed the scalpel that Laura had been inching towards and made an incision in Bill’s thumb. As instructed, he held the blank replica over the existing chip. They all watched in awe as tiny tendrils emerged from the replica and connected to the original. After a minute, the replica and original disconnected from each other.
‘What the hell? I’ve never seen that before!’ said Harvey, rubbing his chin and smiling. ‘Come on, Bill—where can I get more of these? Do you have any idea how mu
ch these would fetch on the black market?’
‘I’ve a fair idea,’ Bill said. ‘I can only give you one, as I promised—no more.’
Harvey shook his head in disbelief as he placed the DNA-prepared blanks in a machine and downloaded new identities to them. There were thousands of unrecorded deaths for him to choose from.
Harvey placed the downloaded chip in Bill’s thumb, hovering it millimetres over the original. Tendrils appeared from the replica, in the same way as before, but this time they connected with the casing surrounding the original chip. Then Harvey temporarily switched off the original and scanned Bill’s thumb to confirm which identity was live. Then Laura swapped places with Bill and Harvey repeated the procedure.
‘So now you need to upload these two with an exact copy of our data,’ Bill said.
Harvey got to work and ten minutes later handed the second set of chips to Bill—the ones that were imprinted with Bill’s and Laura’s original personas.
‘Okay, you each have two personalities now—your original one and a copy,’ Harvey said. ‘I’ve reactivated the originals for now. When you want to switch between the original and the replica, just scan your thumb on any console and touch the hyphen between your first and last name. You can toggle between identities on screen like this’—he pulled over a screen and demonstrated for them—‘Just make sure nobody’s watching you. Trade secret, you understand.’
Harvey held the third blank chip up to the light—his payment for doing the identity replications for Bill. ‘This is going to make me a very rich man. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to give up your contact?’ he said, narrowing his eyes. He tapped the side of the chair with the silver laser scalpel.
Bill knew he wasn’t offering him money. He needed to nip this in the bud before Harvey got nasty. ‘You’ve got your payment, as we agreed. I can’t tell you where I got it—and that’s final.’
