Echoes of Another

by Chandra Clarke

  “It’s just…” he started to say and then stopped. All this attention was astonishing.

  His mother waited for him to finish, and when he didn’t, she sighed. “My poor Seth, always the quiet one. So good with words on paper, but not as loud as you need to be in your big, shouty family.” She patted his knee. “I need a drink. A hard one. Can I smuggle something in for you? What would you like?”

  He was taken aback by being asked a preference. “You know, I’d kill for a soda. Maybe a ginger ale?”

  She winked and got up. “I’ll pop over to the store across the flow to get some. I’ll grab some rye to go with mine.”

  Seth watched her go, feeling tired. Was it possible he’d read them all wrong all these years? Was it just a matter of shouting louder in his family? He had a feeling it wasn’t quite so simple, but it was all too much to contemplate right now. What he did know for certain was that wandering out of the pod had been a damn fool thing to do. It had been a sulk that had nearly cost him his life. Never again.

  He had just closed his eyes to wait for his mother to return when he heard someone come in. He opened them, and to his astonishment, discovered Marty Foley standing there, twitching with impatience and barely controlled anger.

  “Uh, hello?” Seth said.

  “Was it a setup all along, or did you decide at the last minute to take me out?” Marty demanded.

  “What?”

  Marty stamped forward and threw a paper on Seth’s sheet-covered stomach. “Whatever it was, it worked. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this yet.”

  Frowning, Seth picked it up. It was a printout of the most recent bestseller list. His mouth fell open when he saw not one, but two of his titles in the top ten. Then he shook his head, not daring to believe it. “Is this some sort of joke? If so, it’s in really bad taste, given the circumstances.”

  “So you’re denying you set this up then?”

  “Set what up?” Seth asked.

  “This,” Marty said, waving his hand wildly at Seth’s hospital bed. “This over-the-top publicity stunt of yours. I knew established writers didn’t like it when young guns came up the ranks, but I never thought you’d do something like this!”

  Seth could only stare at him. “Marty, I was clipped by a pod on the Parkway. My hip and leg had to be rebuilt. My arm is broken in several spots from where I was slammed into the guardrail. I have several broken ribs and stitches in places I didn’t even know I had places. The only reason I’m still alive is because it was a glancing blow. And someone else died! You can’t possibly think I arranged this?”

  Marty seemed not to have heard. “And the first one on the scene, conveniently, is a reporter,” he said, “who not only thought to ID you but also decided to look you up.” He paused and pursed his lips. “I gotta say, I wish I’d thought of it. ‘Critically acclaimed author killed in bizarre pod failure’ is a brilliant headline. Crazy viral. How much did you pay her for it?”

  Seth hoped his mother was buying more than just one serving of rye. What kind of person thought anyone could be capable of such a thing? His eyes narrowed as he regarded the righteously indignant man. He decided to be direct. “Marty, just how did you do it? Get published so fast and on the list?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Marty said. Then his vanity appeared to get the better of him. “I struck a sweet deal with a small press outside the city. I guaranteed them a bestseller if they’d publish me. Then I hired a firm to buy up copies. They had an AI program that knew what fab stations to hit to get ranked. I got it cheap.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “Had I thought to do what you did, though, I’d have been able to extend my run on the list.”

  Just then, a nurse came by and shooed Marty out, telling him it was family-only visiting hours.

  Seth relaxed back down into his pillow. Nothing was as it had seemed. His family loved him. He’d been a chump about how fame and success worked all this time. He’d made the bestseller list in spite everything. And he had dozens of story ideas. Seth was glad he’d left his implant at home that day, and it hadn’t been destroyed in the accident. He had a great deal of work to do if he wanted to capitalise on his newfound recognition.

  And he was still alive. Seth glanced around the hospital room and realised he hadn’t worried about germs the entire time he’d been in here.

  Happy tears ran down his face. He was still wiping them away when his mother returned.

  MAURA

  Maura was in her office again, the centre of her universe. The room seemed oddly confining — she felt she had spent far too much time in it. It was a strange sensation. She had never sensed the lack of anything else in her life before; the business had always been enough.

  Hadn’t it?

  Perhaps it was the recent near-death experience of the company that was unsettling her. Maura tried to shake it off and focused on the two women seated across from her, Pauline to her right and Dr Rafferty to her left. She smiled.

  “Dr Rafferty, thank you for coming in to see us, especially under the circumstances. Pauline here tells me it has been a rather trying summer for you.”

  Kel’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “You could say that. A theft, an assault, an abduction, two police interviews, a couple of trips to the hospital, and a press conference from hell.”

  Maura regarded her shrewdly. “Out of all this though, is it safe to say the press conference was the worst part?”

  Kel looked as though she would protest, but then nodded reluctantly. “The public speaking part was fine, I’ve done that before. But it wasn’t easy answering questions about my prototype. It’s been used for so many things. I feel responsible.” A muscle along the side of her jaw worked. “I am responsible.”

  Maura made a demurring noise. “Only to a point, Dr Rafferty. You can hardly be blamed for how other people decided to use something they weren’t meant to have yet. I’m confident, left to your own devices, any implant that got released properly would have had safeguards built in.”

  “I don’t know,” Kel said honestly. “I’m not sure I would have thought of everything I needed to. People were… very imaginative.”

  Maura conceded the point. “Maybe, maybe not. People can be very enterprising when it comes to their immediate, short-term interests, and not so concerned about their longer term interests. Sometimes that seems very irrational, and you strike me as an eminently rational person. But in any case, we’re all a lot wiser now, I think. I believe you might have a proposition for us?”

  Kel sat up a little straighter in her chair, looking somewhat combative. Maura couldn’t blame her. Rumour had it she had been besieged by offers — and threats — since the press conference. And Maura had also heard that new copies of the implant weren’t functional; they wouldn’t print properly and schematics were mysteriously disappearing. Watching Kel now, she suspected she was behind that somehow. Maura had set Pauline on a mission to quietly buy up existing implants before people realised the problem.

  “I want to partner with your company to integrate my technology into your virtual reality experiences,” Kel said. “With several caveats. First, I need to test it properly and thoroughly, to see whether regular use is safe. Second, a user would have to review a tutorial and specifically agree to have it as an add-on to their experience. Third, I would need to have built in safety measures, limiting the time they could use an implant, at least until I determine what longer-term operation does.”

  Maura felt the thrill of new horizons. She struggled to maintain a calm, dispassionate exterior. “Well, that’s interesting and most serendipitous. We were thinking along those same lines.”

  “Yes, well,” Kel frowned. “From the beginning? Because that’s another caveat: you have to tell me whether it was you who stole it in the first place. Otherwise, no deal.”

  “That’s fair enough. No, it wasn’t us.”

  Kel’s brow furrowed deeper. “But you were monitoring my computer, right?”

  “Not your
s specifically,” Maura admitted. “Traffic for the whole institute. We won’t be the only ones, by the way, especially now you’re famous.”

  Kel contemplated that. Then: “What sort of experiences would you be considering?”

  Pauline leaned forward. “Straight out of the gate,” she said, “we want to partner with some of the national charity organisations to boost fundraising efforts. Imagine the uptick in revenue if you could get people to feel what it was like to starve, or what it felt like to hide from enemy bombs?”

  “I’ve become cynical enough in the last several weeks to wonder whether it wouldn’t devolve into disaster porn,” Kel said. “People trying it for the emotional kick.”

  Maura nodded. “There will be people who would want to use it like that. We think a baseline fee per use, which would be, in effect, the lowest-level donation, might mitigate the problem. After the experience, they’d be asked to make a bigger contribution.”

  Kel was thoughtful. “What else would you use it for?”

  Maura consulted a list. “Inspiring experiences. Things to motivate people to stretch themselves. What does it feel like to be a music star, singing in front of a large crowd, communing with the audience? What would it feel like to win an Olympic medal? Can we have people enjoy the thrill of an extreme sport without hurting themselves?”

  “And on the medical front,” Pauline chimed in, “what if a psychologist or a doctor could briefly experience what a patient is feeling to better diagnose and treat them? Or if not the human doctor directly, the med AIs they run? The implant’s output could be read and analysed just like any of the other monitoring devices we routinely use these days.”

  Kel’s eyebrows shot upward. “That has a bunch of ethical implications we would have to work through. But, wow, that’s interesting.”

  Maura glanced at Pauline, who nodded imperceptibly. They’d both noted the use of the word ‘we’.

  “Just the tip of the iceberg,” Maura said. “I’m sure there would be more positive applications, particularly if we used your device the way it was intended. In a state of flow.”

  “Yes, to brainstorm ideas,” Kel agreed. “Empathy. It’s what we need most these days. Not just for someone you are close to, but a person you’ve never met.”

  “Indeed,” Maura said. She noticed Kel was leaning back now, her hand stroking her chin. “I think it’s clear here we’re both headed in the same direction. I can only imagine what we could accomplish, all of us together in a room and all plugged in. We’d definitely like to license the technology properly and have you officially on board as an advisor and consultant, with an appropriate salary. And whatever you decide, we will make a donation to help fund your main line of research, Dr Rafferty. We feel it’s the least we can do.”

  Kel stood up and stretched out to shake Maura’s hand. “Thank you. I’d like to think about what you’ve suggested here, and fully flesh out the ideas and possible consequences.”

  “Of course, take your time,” Maura said. Pauline walked Kel to the door and then returned to her seat.

  Maura steeled herself for the next part of her agenda. “And what are we to make of you, Pauline?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I can’t figure you out. So I am asking directly.” Maura sat back and steepled her fingers. “For the longest time, I’ve had to wonder if you were a plant. Certainly, my troubles seemed to start not long after you came on board. But for the life of me, I haven’t been able to trace you back to another company. And your actions when you’re with me have all been positive and helped me get out of trouble. But there’s the matter of your snooping through my office.” Pauline flushed red. “So then I thought you were playing a complicated long game. Frankly, it’s driving me nuts and I’d like to have done with it. So here we are.”

  “Oh,” said Pauline, still quite pink. “Oh, my. I…” She swallowed before continuing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you so much consternation. I suppose it’s the case I wasn’t being entirely truthful when you first asked me why I wanted to work for you.”

  “I’m listening,” Maura said.

  “This is… this will sound weird. But… I saw you on the news a few years ago. I don’t remember even what you were on it for. You were talking, and everything you said and the manner in which you acted really clicked with me. I felt like I could relate to you and… well, I just wanted to become your friend. In addition to wanting to learn from you, like I said. The only way I could think to do that, given your position and wealth, was to come work for you. I mean, otherwise, we don’t travel in the same circles. I grew up in a working class family.”

  That wasn’t the answer Maura had been expecting. She didn’t know what to do with it. “Really? That’s it?”

  Pauline nodded. “I’m so sorry. I had meant for things to evolve organically, and if it didn’t, I was going to go get another job. I—I should just go.”

  She got up to leave, but Maura raised a hand. “The office? What were you looking for? That’s what made me think you were a spy.”

  Pauline reddened even more. “It was—just a spur of the moment thing. I wanted a really good look at the art you had chosen, to see if I could learn what made you tick, you know? It never occurred to me that you’d be monitoring your own office.” Pauline put her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing. You must think I’m a social climber or some calculating, gold-digging careerist.”

  Maura remembered a VR star she’d really liked as a young girl, before she’d gotten into the business, and how wonderful it would be if they could have been friends. She was struck with a feeling of admiration for Pauline’s nerve. And, she realised, a sense of relief. The thought she might have to fire Pauline had been bothering her more than she’d allowed herself to admit.

  Maura tapped the arm of her chair. She wasn’t sure what she felt about of any of this. “I see,” she said, aloud, finally. “Well. This is all very awkward. And it changes … well, I’m not sure what it might change. But…” Maura sighed. Where were her VR dialogue writers when she needed them? “Look, it won’t be long before the patios have to be packed up again. So why don’t we call it a day and have a drink?”

  KEL

  Kel arrived back at her office that morning and found Bao-Yu being handcuffed.

  “What the—? What’s going on?” she asked Robert, who was standing there watching the arrest, his arms folded and a grim expression on his face.

  “Can’t say,” he replied. “Personnel matter. You know how it is.”

  Padraig sidled up to her. “Well, I can say, as I’m not the boss. It seems we have a saboteur. She’s being arrested on mischief charges. Several birds in the hab have been poisoned.”

  “Nothing’s been proven, Padraig,” Robert admonished him. “Don’t gossip, please.”

  Bao-You rolled her eyes. “Spare me. You have me on the camera, you said so yourself. You’ve probably already had a screening of the video with your favourite staff.”

  “You!” Kel couldn’t help exclaiming. Both Robert and the arresting officer glanced at her, frowning.

  “Do I need to know something, Kel?” Robert said.

  “I’m sorry, with all the … with all that’s been going on for me this summer, I didn’t have time to bring it up with you.” She stopped, unsure what she should say now, with everyone else in the room.

  “Go on,” Robert said, glaring at Padraig. “He apparently knows it all anyway.”

  “Well, it’s just I had some macaque deaths earlier this year that seemed… unusual.”

  Padraig leaned over conspiratorially. “I knew it all along! Bird poisonings, monkeys being killed, stuff being stolen. I was sure something was up!”

  Kel just gave him a look, and for once, he had the good sense to subside. Kel turned to Bao-Yu. “But why? And did you steal my prototype?”

  Bao-Yu gave her a scornful look. “If I’d known about your toy do you think I’d have bothered with your furry brats?”

&nbs
p; “But why?”

  “In China, there were eight thousand applicants for my job. There were twelve thousand for my supervisor’s job. The only way to get anywhere is to have multiple degrees, many years of experience, and several augments. And you glide in here to a top position fresh out of school, get a big research project, and you don’t even do so much as take nootropics. I needed your posting on my resume, and what I got was a temporary visiting contract. I thought I would do better here, with less competition.”

  Kel shook her head. “The birds though? They weren’t even mine?”

  “Mine,” said Robert. “My guess is if she couldn’t get you fired, making me look incompetent enough to warrant a transfer elsewhere?”

  “I still don’t get it. Surely, with all the sensors and cameras here you knew you’d get caught? How would that help you?”

  “It was worth the risk. If you hadn’t gotten distracted by that replay device, a couple more dead monkeys and you’d have been fired for negligence or I could have made it look like mistreatment.”

  “Enough now,” the arresting office said, nudging her toward the door. “Dr Rafferty, perhaps you’d like to visit us later for a statement? It sounds like you have something to add. I’d take you with me now, but under the circumstances it would look too much like a perp walk for you and I would guess you don’t want the extra publicity.”

  Kel flashed back to the intense press conference, and shuddered. “No, thank you.”

  The officer and Bao-Yu exited. Padraig dashed off to spread the news to other staff members, leaving Robert and Kel staring after him.

  “I kinda liked her,” Kel said, at last. “What will happen to her?”

  Robert shrugged. “Not a lot, honestly. If you have proof about your macaques, that will put the charges to mischief over five thousand dollars. She may be made to pay reparations. She’ll have her work permits invalidated and be sent back home. After that? Who knows? Bao-Yu seems resourceful, I’m sure she’ll land on her feet.”