Still fully interfaced with his wrist comp, so that its screen spread across the desk of his mind, Stake began a net search for information on two men named Dink Argosax and Timothy Leung.
He soon found there was little to find. There were plenty of people who managed not to get wet in the net’s vast ocean, but usually they were the homeless and disenfranchised, not well-educated science researchers, obviously from good homes. The limited traces of Argosax and Leung in the network could only mean that, because of their work for the government, their histories had been pared down to the barest minimum. Records of their university attendance, primarily, but there didn’t seem to be much detail as to their course of studies, and there was a conspicuous absence of images of the men, even going back to their childhood, except for occasional group pictures that seemed impossible to delete because of the others in them. The one good shot of Argosax that Stake found came from an unlikely source. While attending Paxton University, Richard “Dink” Argosax had participated in an annual game competition that even Stake had seen covered on VT, called the BBB: Building the Better Booby-trap. In it, contestants entered an ultranet environment rife with dangerous flora and fauna, and were required to virtually dispatch their rivals (unless the local animal life dispatched them first) until a single victor remained, utilizing only the ingenious and insidious booby-traps that their college-educated minds could devise from the materials at hand. Argosax had won that year’s competition, even beating out several students majoring in engineering, whose traps were technically more imaginative but whose strategy was apparently not up to Argosax’s.
The net article featured not only a head shot of the grinning, victorious Argosax, but a little vid clip that Stake activated. Interviewed for a VT news spot, Argosax was as breathless as if he had actually returned from a grueling voyage to another world, fought its monsters with his flesh and blood body. When asked if he thought this win was an indication of his aptitude for future success, Argosax gushed, “You know it! I’m walking on the bodies of my enemies! Eat my skills – whoo!” And he shook his fist in the air.
Stake couldn’t help smirking. He could see why Argosax was nicknamed Dink instead of Dick. Scrawny and pale as a prisoner of war instead of a VR war hero, with a single thick eyebrow and a mop of black hair out of which protruded two ultranet jacks implanted in one side of his skull. Stake wished it wasn’t an ultranet arena that he could hook Argosax up to, but a replay of his own memories, so the mighty warrior could see what combat in a real life hostile world was like, avoiding real booby-traps such as pits of stakes smeared with bender poison.
When government techs had gone editing the Wonky Science members’ life histories, had this news story and vid clip been overlooked, deemed of no consequence, or had Argosax – out of pride – protected it from being deleted?
In any case, Stake lost track of Argosax altogether after graduation, as if he had just ceased to exist. Maybe lost forever in another virtual universe? But Timothy Leung was a different story.
THIRTEEN: AFTERSHOCKS
“Thanks, Magnus,” Timothy Leung said to the robot that had just set down a tray of coffee for his guest, Jeremy Stake. In bending close to Stake, the robot had afforded him the dubious pleasure of seeing the organic encephalon computer residing inside its transparent skull. The robot’s head, upper torso, pelvis, hands and feet were a clear honey-colored plastic as if shaped from amber. The neck, waist, arms and legs were silvery, segmented metal. Leung had pasted a sticker that said, “Somebody Kill Me” on the robot’s rear and no one had made the machine any wiser. “Somebody Kill Me” was the famous catchphrase of Buddy Vrolik, the sphere-like mutant star of the sitcom Buddy Balloon.
Stake imagined that Leung could sympathize with Vrolik, who had to have nourishment pumped into him and waste pumped out, and be hooked up to a device that could give vocalization to his thoughts. Leung wasn’t in much better condition, aside from being able to see and hear. His lips formed words but his voice, like Vrolik’s, was synthesized, because there wasn’t anything left of Leung’s natural body below the neck. His head was fitted into a socket on something between a life support cart and a wheelchair without wheels. This could hover a little off the ground as it moved about, but presently it rested on the floor of the room he rented in a complex maintained for the elderly and disabled. There was no bed, but several chairs were provided for guests, and Stake occupied one of these.
As if being a disembodied head wasn’t enough, Stake figured Leung’s face to have been radically restored, as well. It just looked too smooth and didn’t move quite right. He appeared even more android-like than David Bright. Stake tried not to look at the former researcher for too prolonged a stretch, though, for fear of replacing his own unnatural countenance with Leung’s.
“My parents used to push me to get a cybernetic body instead of this,” Leung explained, as an insectoid claw extended from his support cart to delicately dab a napkin at a spot of coffee Magnus had spilled on the tray. “But I’d only be trading one horrible state for another, so what’s the difference? This way it’s less like I’m trying to be something I’m not, and I can glide around and chase the nurses instead of stalking about like Magnus. The nurses feel more sorry for me this way, I think. They treat me like a baby.” He gave a humorless, mechanical wink. “They wash my face, brush my hair, coo to me. I live for the day one of them unhooks me to cradle me to her breast. That would be a nice way to die, don’t you think?”
Stake smiled uncomfortably and sipped his coffee. “Your parents couldn’t afford to have your body regenerated?”
“Look at me, Mr. Stake. Forget regenerating – this isn’t a missing arm we’re talking about – I’d have to pretty much be cloned, and you know the legalities of cloning private citizens.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s hard for you to talk about all this again, and that’s why I appreciate you seeing me, Mr, Leung.”
Over their vidphones Leung had seemed very reluctant at first, but Stake had gently persisted. He had at first thought of using the same routine he had with the landlord, claiming he wanted to learn about the explosion at Wonky Science before he purchased the property, but he had decided to be up front and say that he had been hired to investigate an anomalous occurrence on Sinan that might have a connection to the ruined lab. He figured that if Leung denied him a visit, he’d just come around to the assisted living complex anyway. But here he was. Not that Leung seemed relaxed about his presence. Beneath the dry humor, Stake could feel the crackle of his discomfort. Maybe at a time like this Leung missed his limbs the most, unable to pace or fidget.
“So who is this friend of yours who hired you, Mr. Stake?”
Stake politely ignored a liquid gurgle he heard from inside a closed section of Leung’s cart. “Captain Rick Henderson of the Colonial Forces, currently stationed on Sinan.”
“The Colonial Forces?” That seemed to throw Leung off a little. “And what is it the Colonial Forces need to know about Wonky Science?”
“First of all, sir, what kind of work exactly was Wonky Science doing for the government?”
“You should realize I’m still not at liberty to discuss that to any great extent.”
“Yes, I can appreciate that, but how about the stuff you can tell me?”
“We accepted a number of projects for them, one of which was to explore new means of teleportation that would make the Earth Colonies less beholden to the Bedbugs for assistance. They wanted a fresh perspective. We were right out of Paxton University and had innovative ideas.”
“But what went wrong? How did the explosion occur?”
“I was part of a team within the team, working on a related but separate project. The team was headed by a man named Lewton Barbour. For our experiment, we were to teleport Lew to a sister lab on Earth, utilizing a new technique in scanning and duplicating atomic arrangement. What can I say? It seems we overloaded our matter transmitter, and boom. Lew’s atoms were scattered to the void, and nearl
y everyone in the lab was killed.”
“Was Barbour teleporting alone, or were any others going with him?” Stake asked innocently.
“Two others were to be transmitted with him,” Leung replied. Was Stake just superimposing when he thought the mask-like face appeared wary at the question?
“And these three were going to Earth? Not teleporting to Sinan?”
“No, not Sinan. And Sinan is in another dimension.”
“I realize that. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s happening on Sinan, with the city of Bluetown? What you may not know is that Bluetown is an exact replica of Punktown, in the making.”
“Punktown? What? How can that be?”
“They don’t know that, yet. But it’s a fact, and another fact is that on Sinan right now there’s a building that corresponds to your old research lab on Ginger Street.”
“My God,” Leung croaked.
“Inside the room that would be the suite for Wonky Science, three strange clones were recovered. Two were not viable, but one of them is alive, apparently healthy, though only as developed as a child of about five-years-old.”
“Yes, yes, I heard about the clones in the news,” Leung said, “but I didn’t know Bluetown was Punktown, or about the place on Ginger Street.”
“So this is what my friend has hired me to look into. Apparently the process that causes Bluetown to form itself regenerated human tissue it encountered in its path. And now it would seem to me that the tissues it encountered were the remains of Lewton Barbour and the other two researchers that were attempting to teleport with him.”
“No, no,” Leung said. He was becoming agitated, and either purposely or accidentally caused his cart to whip around a little to face away from Stake. In so doing, he bumped the serving tray and coffee slurped over the rim of Stake’s cup. “I told you, they were going to Earth, not Sinan.”
“Could their matter have been accidentally transferred to Sinan instead of Earth?”
“No, impossible. It’s impossible. I don’t know what you found on Sinan, Mr. Stake, but it can’t be Lew and the others. The tissues must have come from war casualties.”
“If I arranged for you to see a vid of the cloned child, do you think you might recognize his features?”
“I won’t look at it!” Leung cried. “It’s not one of my team – are you listening to me?”
“Okay, look, I’m not trying to upset you, Mr. Leung. Can you tell me, at least, the names of the other two people who were teleporting to Earth with Mr. Barbour? Give me a list of all the people who worked for Wonky Science, dead or alive?”
“No. Don’t ask me that. I’ve lost track of the few survivors, and I’m not inclined to compromise their privacy. Why? So you can propose these absurd ideas to them, and dredge up their painful memories, too? Anyway, I told you, all our research is still classified information.”
“I was hired by a Colonial Forces officer,” Stake reminded him.
“So you say.”
“I could have you talk to Captain Henderson yourself, then.”
“I won’t be talking to anyone else, and I don’t want to talk to you any more, either.”
Stake took a last sip of coffee, rose, replaced his little brimmed hat on his head. “You aren’t in the least bit curious to see this child, Mr. Leung?”
“No! It’s too horrible to imagine! Why would you people have brought that thing to life?”
“It didn’t need to be accelerated in any way; it was alive when it was discovered.”
Leung’s face gave a twitch in place of a shudder. “Horrible,” he wheezed.
“I was given one other name. Dink Argosax. Do you know his whereabouts, at least?”
“I told you, I don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
Stake sighed. On the serving tray he placed one of the printed cards he carried in his wallet. “In case you change your mind.”
“I never should have talked to you at all,” Leung muttered.
“You were curious to know how much I knew,” Stake said, moving to the door. “Call me if you get curious again.”
***
Stake returned to his Punktown apartment in the old Phosnoor Shipyard before calling Henderson with his report. His door was not booby-trapped and there were no Stem assassins waiting for him inside. He sat at his desk comp to call, drinking a better cup of coffee than what the robotic orderly at Leung’s apartment complex had served him.
Henderson listened to everything, then remarked, “It might have been better to talk about this in person.”
“I’ll be there in person soon; I’m leaving here tomorrow.” Stake didn’t explain his reason for that: if Thi’s husband were to be released soon or was released already, he’d feel better being on the same planet she was on.
“Don’t worry about the cost for that, Jer, I’ll reimburse you right away from my own pocket.”
Stake didn’t argue; his own resources were limited. “Thanks.”
On Stake’s screen, Henderson looked far from pleased by what he had heard. “I can’t believe Gale never told me about the uniform remnants or the other stuff. I’m going to see what I can find out about that – where they’ve got it now. Those things could definitely prove revealing.”
“I’ve got to ask you, Rick – are you sure you want me to keep going with this, now that it looks like it isn’t MIAs? It’s on its way to getting messy. Maybe messy for your career.”
“Blast that,” Henderson grumbled, with uncharacteristic venom. “Gale has kept me in the dark. I want to put the lights on so they blind that bald-headed fuck.”
“You’re the boss.”
When their call had ended, Stake gulped down some shrimp sushi he found in his refrigerator and hoped was still okay, and then did a net search on Lewton Barbour/Wonky Science. There wasn’t much to find – certainly not about the nature of the research conducted there – other than his being directed to street atlases of Punktown on which the building on Ginger Street appeared. Stake did find an obituary listed on several sites, however. The obituary told him little more than what Timothy Leung had revealed. Lewton Barbour, a twenty-three-year-old researcher for Wonky Science, had perished along with most of his coworkers during the course of an experiment in which some equipment had overloaded. There was one bit of information, though, that Stake took a keen interest in. Lewton Barbour had been survived by his wife, Persia, who had also been a Wonky Science employee.
As he had done to locate Leung, Stake next ran a net search on Persia Barbour for her current address or contact information.
Soon enough he had a number and was calling it, but if the information was correct then perhaps she was out. Stake left a simple message that he hoped would assure a return call: “Mrs. Barbour, would you please call me back? I’d like to discuss your late husband Lewton.”
Stake was settling in for a comfortable night in his own flat, vegetating before his VT to take his mind off Thi as best as he was able, when his comp alerted him to an incoming call. He rushed to his desk and answered. Before him he saw a woman of about forty, and though he couldn’t tell what condition her body might be in, at least her attractive features did not seem rebuilt the way Leung’s had been. Large dark eyes in a small pale face, and a luxuriance of thick dark curls that Stake found quite becoming. Her expression was more leery than alluring, however.
“Yes? Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. My name is Jeremy Stake, and I’ve been hired to conduct an investigation which has led me to the explosion that occurred at Wonky Science and claimed the life of your husband, Lewton.”
“Hired?” she snapped. “Hired by whom? What is this about?”
“I was hired by Captain Rick Henderson, with the Colonial Forces base on Sinan.”
Persia Barbour blinked at Stake once, and then her attractive face with all its dark curls was gone.
“Dung,” Stake said. That had gone even less well than his visit to Timothy Leung.
He tried to call her back. She wouldn’t answer. He wished he had found an address for her to go along with the number, but he hadn’t, and was too tired right now to ask one of his contacts to do him the favor of tracing her number to one. Still sitting before his desk comp, Stake contemplated calling Thi next, but quickly rejected the idea. If her husband had already been released, the last thing she needed was for Stake to incense him again by calling her where she was staying. And even if he wasn’t home yet, what if Nhot picked up his call, and related that information to her father later?
Stake flopped down in his bunk, bolted to the old warship’s floor, and watched VT through increasingly drowsy eyes. Soon enough, the VT chattered inanely to itself.
He dreamed of the lab space rented by Wonky Science. It was charred black and in ruins, but also had three deep craters sunken into its floor. He edged closer to the nearest of these pits, a thin layer of ashy broken matter crunching under his shoes. A shard of coffee mug toppled over the rim and plunged into the amniotic fluid that filled the pits, causing ripples that momentarily obscured the naked figure curled at the bottom of the well, but when the surface grew still again he saw that the figure was himself.
He moved to another of the holes to find another copy of his own body, his own face. He rushed to look into the third hole, then jerked back in shock.
The eyes of his third clone were open, and gazing up at him helplessly.
He awoke with a start, blinking up at the bottom of the bunk above him. As his bleariness cleared, the words Yengun had translated from the old woman with PSI abilities came back to him.
“...after today, the dreams will belong to you.”
Blue War: A Punktown Novel Page 16
