‘Harry, it was … ’
‘Ah, I think we’d best be on our way,’ said Harry. ‘Our pursuers are back.’
Julia peered over the balcony and saw that the green cloaks, now wearing pale, blank stage-masks, were leaving the scene of the accident and crossing the road.
‘Who or what are they?’
‘Can’t imagine that it’s the netlaw – they would land on us in overkill numbers and with a brass band playing.’ He frowned. ‘I fear they may be those who tracked us to Earth and assassinated the original Reski Emantes. In any case, we can’t stay here.’
‘But he was here a moment ago, the Trapdoorman … ’
Harry stared at her for a second. ‘Okay, but we still need to move – tell me about it on the way.’
The arcade was the topmost floor of a large building occupied by a mixture of offices and residences. It was also built into the side of one of Rome’s hills, so at the rear of the arcade was a set of marble stairs that climbed past walled gardens and homes to the crest of the hill. There was a temple of Hephaestus there, next to a small observatory, and a park from which they finally gained a view of the full magnificence of the imperial city.
Steam power had allowed the emperors of this sagaverse-Rome to build on a godlike scale. An immense palace with sloping walls sat atop ranks of huge pillars that stretched out along the Tiber. Banners flew from the towers and battlements and fabulous ornamentation flashed gold and silver in the sun. At ground level, however, shanty towns had clustered around the shaded bases of the great pillars, grey beneath veils of smoke. Other nobles and aristocrats had sought to build extravagant, similarly elevated villas but none could match the imperial residence’s dimensions.
Harry and Julia paused to take in the view for just a moment before descending the other side of the hill, hurrying down a winding cobbled street. At the foot of it a large bridge crossed a deep smoky vale crammed with lower-class houses, two- and three-storey buildings packed in close together. They were fifty yards or so from the bridge when three Vigiles Urbani stepped out into the street, faces masked, cudgels at the ready.
‘This way!’ Harry said, ducking left along a narrow alley.
Julia was only feeling a slight strain as she dashed after him, doing her best to avoid puddles and decomposing garbage.
‘Where are we going?’ she said as he slowed at what looked like a dead end and hurriedly peered into several lightless doorways.
‘I’m sure I saw a building with a platform where a basket balloon was anchored … further up and round the hill. If we find it we can cross the river and hope that Nicodemus catches up with us before those hunters. Or we just pull the plug and go look for another sagaverse … ah, knew there had to be … ’
Julia glanced back and saw their pursuers loping down the alley towards them.
‘Lead the way.’
One black passage led to a steep, winding rack of stairs that passed through arches and beneath overhanging floors and small connecting footbridges. After a frantic climb they finally reached the building in question, complete with a railed platform jutting out over a cliffside and a pair of basket balloons tied up and swaying in the fitful breeze. Harry paid the surprised-looking attendant a handful of sesterces and five minutes later they were aloft in one of the baskets, holding on to the thick wicker sides as the pilot, a taciturn, grizzled man, adjusted the burners and pulled on vent cables from time to time.
They were halfway across when there was a thud from the basket’s wickerwork floor. Julia and Harry moved to one side and a hitherto invisible hatch creaked open.
‘Quickly,’ came a voice from the dimness below. ‘Before they realise.’
Julia went first, smiling at the stunned balloonist as she climbed down, hastily followed by Harry, who pulled the trapdoor shut after him. They were in a small grey-walled compartment with the skinny, long-coated and begoggled man from before, who had to be Nicodemus. Weirdly, the low ceiling looked just like the underside of the balloon basket and Julia could still hear the balloonist shifting about above them, muttering to himself.
‘Here we go,’ said Nicodemus. ‘The big switcheroo!’
From a coat pocket he took a little box with an old-fashioned rocker switch which he pressed. Abruptly the wicker ceiling dissolved into flat grey while one of the compartment walls vanished, revealing a long narrow room with metal rack shelves on one side and a couple of desks sitting beneath more shelving on the other. A pair of archaic bulbs hung from a high ceiling but the only light came from the rows of small screens sitting on the shelves over the desks.
‘Mr Nicodemus, I presume,’ Harry said. Julia saw that he was back in the Tiger-Duke exter and she was Lioness-Lady again.
‘Just Nicodemus,’ their host said. Pushing the goggles up onto his dark bristly hair, he busily retrieved a couple of grubby wheeled office chairs from the room’s shadowy far end. Once they were seated, he leaned back against a desk edge, folded his coat shut, crossed his arms and regarded them both with wide, intense eyes.
‘My zetetic feed tells me that you are both code entities although one of you is a fractal simuloid, highly recomplex with a non-bounded sentience.’ He paused to regard Julia with fascinated eyes. ‘You should realise that while I am a living, breathing organic Human, and therefore prey to all the failings of the flesh, this image of mine is no more than a remote exter. I’m not neurally linked therefore cannot be wet-hacked or mindseared in any way. If either of you were considering such gambits.’
‘Nothing could be further from our minds, I assure you,’ Harry said. ‘Were you able to identify our contact? If you know anything about his origins and allegiance you would get some notion of our reliability.’
Nicodemus gave a bleak smile. ‘Sure, I know about the Construct and your drone patron was able to satisfy me that he is the genuine article. I just had to be certain about you two, especially with those zazins on your trail.’
‘Ah, so that’s what they were,’ Harry said, his features suddenly serious.
‘A little background would be helpful,’ Julia said.
‘Code-specific hunter-killers,’ he said. ‘Whoever is behind them managed to get hold of full or even partial scans of our code cores. Zazins don’t stop – they just keep regenerating.’
‘So we’re in danger … anywhere?’ she said. ‘Out in the Glow, for example?’
‘Yes, which makes our task just that much trickier.’
‘Okay, I admit it, I’m intrigued,’ said Nicodemus. ‘What kind of mischief do you have in mind?’
Harry laid it out for him, the dire predicament of Darien, the Earthsphere fleet journeying to join a Hegemony armada, the arrival of the lost Sino colonists, who then vowed to fight for the Darien colony, and the riveting report by Kaphiri Farag. Nicodemus listened, breaking in a few times for clarification on this or that point. When Harry was done, their host sat there on the edge of the desk, one arm across his chest, his other hand clamped across his face, beneath his nose. After a few moments the hand fell away as he let out a bark of laughter.
‘Yes, you’re right! – getting into the private homenets of eight such high-status individuals would be like trying to crawl into a shark’s mouth undetected. Add to which, an intruder alert would certainly bring the netlaw down on top of us like … a ton of boots. No, we have to get them to leave reality, leave their virtual citadels and enter the Glow with the aim of seeking us out!’
‘And they would do this … because … ?’ Julia said.
Nicodemus’s smile was all narrow-eyed cunning.
‘Because, dear Lioness-Lady, they will be compelled to do so. This … falls within that arena of instinctive talents and persuasive genius known as ego-engineering. It would be a demanding task to carry out against just one person but you’ve brought me eight targets! … with the added bonus that we only have a matter of s-hours to make it all work!’
‘I see,’ said Harry. ‘Is it too steep a problem?’
‘Did
I say that? Did I say it was too steep?’ Nicodemus was staring maniacally. ‘Too steep for me? … well, actually it is but I haven’t survived this long in the Glow without accumulating a posse of workaholic wannabes and savants … behold.’
He raised a hand to point at the shadowy end of the room, which lit up to reveal that the room now stretched on for another similar length, with desks lining both sides. And at the desks sat another six or seven Nicodemuses: one was female, one was tall and burly, while the rest were variations on squat, stocky, flabby and bald. But they all wore long grey coats and black rubbery goggles. A couple of them waved.
Nicodemus’s grin was a mixture of fatherly pride and energised anticipation as he faced them.
‘My emulating offspring,’ he said. ‘Your dedication is noted. I am pleased to tell you that we have been set a well-paid task that will require every sweat-faraday, every elbow-tesla that you can muster. This, my febrile progeny, will be a brainburner!’
The Nicodemoids broke into fervent applause and whoops of delight. Harry and Julia exchanged a nonplussed look.
Nicodemus turned back to them. ‘We now have to get down to it, so in the meantime amuse yourselves with any of the screen stuff. If you say “music” it’ll offer a selection of toe-tappers old and ancient; if you say “veeshows” it’ll show you something involving serious amounts of guns, and if you say “pretty colours” – well, I’m sure you catch the notion.’ He started buttoning up his coat with theatrical élan. ‘This may take some time but not so much that you should start worrying.’
So saying, he marched off to join his posse, and a moment later that half of the long narrow room was swallowed in shadow once more.
Julia was in the grip of both unease and irritation. ‘Can we trust this man? Is he even sane?’
Harry gave her an amused look. ‘I would have thought that eccentric characters like our host would have been a regular feature of the Enhanced subculture.’
She shook her head. ‘The emphasis was always on rational behaviour since it determined how we were perceived by the ordinary people. It was ingrained into us over and over – don’t frighten the norms.’ She glanced at the dark end of the room. ‘Anyone openly eccentric was generally seen as a danger to the project’s profile.’
‘Well, the Glow is the ultimate metropolitan culture,’ Harry said. ‘Since anyone can look like anything, eccentric behaviour isn’t so much accepted as positively expected. But remember – all exters are masks in one way or another … ’
Abruptly, the far end of the room lit up again and Nicodemus came staggering towards them, leaning on the desks for support. Head down, he seemed to be panting and shaking.
‘Is something wrong?’ Julia said, halfway out of her seat.
She paused when she realised that Nicodemus was laughing almost uncontrollably.
‘Those … crazy little phreaks! – even when they’re on down time their scarred brainpans are frying up some mélange of delicious loonery. A choir of lab mice gentekked up with the president’s face, indeed!’
‘Nicodemus, I don’t understand,’ Julia said. ‘Why are you back so soon?’
‘So soon?’ Nicodemus loomed over her with wide staring eyes. ‘My dear lady lion, my minions and I have been hard at work on this conundrum for eight stark shrieking hours! Show some gratitude, if you will … ’
‘Eight hours … ’
‘Eight subjective hours,’ Harry said quickly. ‘Hence brain-burner!’
‘Correctamundo, tiger-boy,’ said Nicodemus. ‘This is my own little citadel in the Glow, well, not strictly speaking part of the Glow, more a handcrafted extension built onto the side of it.’ He struck a pose, outstretched hand sweeping around. ‘Here I determine the limits and the depths and the heights, so when I took my meme-kids into the crucible of your predicament we cranked up the subjective ratio and really got our neural oatmeals simmering!’
‘So you have a plan,’ Julia said, keeping her annoyance from showing.
Nicodemus held up his fingers, thumbs hidden.
‘Eight individual targets, eight individualised profiles, eight separate and distinct campaigns tailored to winkling them out of their hidey-holes and into the Glow.’ As he spoke he flicked a forefinger at a series of screens, which lit up one by one with the eight Sino-Asian delegates who had to see the Kaphiri Farag report.
‘So what’s the first step?’ Harry said.
‘It’s already happening.’ Nicodemus reversed a chair and sat down, arms leaning on the backrest. ‘Every one of those über-politicians has a homenet with an AI to manage his mail, filter out the trash, send out mods of the standard template replies, and prioritise staff assignments. So the initial eight messages have been designed with them in mind, the AIs, which meant research into their softhouse origins, what model, what upgrades, what custom tweaks if any. We got lucky – one of our Glow consultants let us have the cue-phrases for two of them, for a price. With those we can get the AI to prioritise any message we like for the eyes of two of our targets.’
‘I see,’ said Harry. ‘So assuming you get messages through to the representatives, how will you persuade them to come to the Glow? And where will we be putting on the show?’
‘This is where the techniques of ego-engineering come in,’ said Nicodemus. ‘Two will be inveigled into thinking that they are each the subject of a flattering biodocudrama being made under conditions of great secrecy and they need to meet with the director in the Glow without delay. Two will be intrigued by offers to sell certain rare artefacts relating to their personal hobbies, dependent on their meeting an intermediary in the Glow. One will be led to believe that he’s on his way to a secret meeting with a recently escaped Sendrukan political prisoner. One thinks she’s been warned that secrets from her past will be depicted in a stage drama about to open in the Glow. And the last two will be labouring under the mistaken belief that they’ve been invited to Optimi-level VIP parties by their favourite Glowmo celebs.’ He grinned, all bare teeth. ‘Yes, that’s the level of detail that we’re working with.’
‘And where?’
‘At the utterly magnificent Electric Theatre City,’ said Nicodemus, who swung his brittle smile round at Julia. ‘Which you’ll have heard of, of course.’
‘Who hasn’t,’ she said, expression unchanging, ‘heard of the Electric Theatre City?’
Nicodemus arched an eyebrow and chuckled.
‘Good, because that’ll be your station, the pair of you. I’ve already booked a display area for the show – and I assume that you have a copy with you … ’
They nodded in unison, then Harry said:
‘What about the zazins? They’ll still be out there, hunting for us.’
‘Uh huh, which is why I’m giving you these.’ One bony hand came out, holding a pair of red dice. With red dots. ‘Temporary rewrite orgs – they go in your pockets. They don’t alter any root or dynamic functions, they just add junk data to certain marker files so that the zazins don’t get a match if they scan you. Capiche?’
Julia pocketed the red die but felt nothing, which made her wonder if that was good or bad.
‘All righty,’ said their host, getting to his feet. ‘Now that we’re slip to the slide and code to the mode, as it were, it’s time to move on out. We’ll get to Electric Theatre City by stages so that our start point stays hidden, and on the way … show you babies some of the sights!’
This last was accompanied by a lascivious waggle of the tongue as he led them back to the grey recess by which they had arrived.
*
‘Some of the sights’ didn’t really do it justice. The virtual continuum of the Glow was a riotous flow of spectacle, or at least this zone was. It was an enormous fusion of clubland and theme park, of carnival and racetrack, of partyland and destruction derby. There was the Horn of Plenty, an immense pink and sparkly golden cornucopia full of Big Prize game shows, some of which were on continuous veecast. There was the Atmosfear Race, a twenty-lane speedway that
soared, looped and spiralled across the virtual heavens, on which drivers raced vehicles the size of sky-scrapers – some even looked like skyscrapers. Then there was the Marilyn Monroe Bar & Grill, a kilometre-high simulacrum of the pre-atomic-age vee-star, within which there were levels of restaurants, lounge bars, karaoke jousts, and bowling alleys. Also striding around and looming over the gaudy megatropolis were the Jackie Chan martial arts arena and assault course, the Chairman Mao casino and Möbius floorshow, and the Melissa Takeru theme emporium, concert hall and biog-ride. The last was a Filipina teenstar whose image was currently selling everything from jaunty little caps to garden rakes, going by the flashverts Julia had seen.
The Electric Theatre City actually was the size of a city and was encircled by half-kilometre-wide perception panels (or rather the virtual presentation thereof), each running a vee-epic. As they swept into the ETC by hovertram, Nicodemus named some of them: Casablanca 3: Rick’s Revenge; Lord Gatling’s Gun; Hot Larvae: The Dissolution; Conqueror: The Quest for Mario …
Dropped off at a spidery tower platform, they followed Nicodemus along gantries to a strange midair intersection of speeding walkways, or fastways. One by one they stepped on and were whisked away in a streaming blur through tunnels and passages between brightly coloured buildings of every shape and size. They came to an abrupt halt at a roof garden overlooking a bright neon-orange castle that sat between a noisy sensorium emporium and a smallish establishment called Leather Experience. Its towering frontage looked like stitched leather and was well provided with huge zips and studs.
‘Welcome to the Otranto House,’ Nicodemus said with a dark laugh.
Another fastway deposited them next to a curved shiny desk at the edge of an enormous, cavernous hall. Monumental pillars marched across its emptiness, half-lit by glowing lamps that floated just above head height. Nicodemus was not pleased.
‘By the beard of Baron Frankenstein, this is not what I ordered!’ he growled.
‘Is there a problem, sir?’
The Ascendant Stars_Book Three of Humanity's Fire Page 29
