Realms of Light

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  He shook his head. “No. I didn’t even remember the name of the company. I don’t know anything more than you.” He glanced at the wall display. “I need to get back to work.”

  “When do you get off? In case we want to talk.”

  “Midnight. But I’ll probably be too tired to do anything but sleep, and what is there to talk about?”

  I grimaced. “Probably nothing,” I said, “but I’m keeping on open mind.”

  “You do that, Carlie.” He headed for the door. “And see if you can find out who killed Yoshio Nakada. Do that, and we’re all set.”

  “Yeah. I’ll try. Good night, ’Chan.”

  Then the door closed behind him and I was alone in the break room.

  I looked at the wall. The hype for Seventh Heaven was still displayed.

  “Locate nearest human-operated office for Seventh Heaven,” I said. I thought I’d do better persuading a human to cooperate than software.

  The hype vanished, and a map appeared, with directions. I snorted.

  Seventh Heaven had an office directly under the Ginza. Very handy for the gamblers whose luck ran out. All I had to do was go back up the service corridor and out into the lower level of the casino, then take an elevator down two stories into Trap Under and follow the signs. I trotted out the door and headed for the casino.

  When I reached the turn where I didn’t head for the door I’d come in through, a voice said, “You are not authorized beyond this point.”

  “I’m heading to an office down on B3,” I said. “Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery. Nothing to do with IRC or the Ginza.” I kept walking.

  For an instant, it didn’t reply. Then it said, “If you diverge from your announced route, you will be escorted from the premises and risk trespassing charges.”

  “I love you, too,” I said. “I won’t diverge.”

  And I wouldn’t. I wasn’t giving up on my brother, but I wasn’t going to be able to fly him away as easily as I’d hoped. For now, I was going after Dad, and once I had him, I would worry about ’Chan.

  I told myself I should also look into this story that Yoshio Nakada was dead. If I could trace it back to its source, that might tell me something useful. I didn’t really think I could clean out the conspiracy; I’d told ’Chan the truth about that. I was operating far beyond my specs, and I knew it. Grandfather Nakada must have known it, too, but hiring me hadn’t cost him anything he couldn’t easily spare, so why not? Play enough long shots, and eventually one of them will come in.

  I wondered what other programs the old man was running. Surely, I wasn’t the only one.

  But whether I was the only one or not, I’d been hired to do a job, and I was going to do my best to do that job.

  I wished I had my old office com, in my office out on Juarez. It had all the software I’d need to root through half the data on Epimetheus. I’d brought a selection of my best wares with me from Alderstadt, but that wasn’t the same as having the network I’d spent years building up here in Nightside City.

  I swung open the door and stepped out onto the casino floor, where a flood of sound and color flashed over me. The slap of cards on felt, the buzz and clatter of a hundred different randomizers, and the hum of voices filled the air. So did glittering visual come-ons of every sort, stardust swirls and images of naked women and flashing holograms of personal cards showing million-credit balances, bouncing balls and playing cards and tropical beaches.

  It made me homesick. Oh, Alderstadt and American City had their share of advertising, but it wasn’t the same as the Trap—Alderstadt closed down at night, and American City seemed to do everything in pink and silver. Nightside City had its own style. I’d had a glimpse of it during the cab ride from the port, but it hadn’t really sunk in the way this view did. The casino was like a miniature version of the view of Trap Over I’d had from my old office.

  But I wasn’t allowed to diverge from my route, so I couldn’t stop and take it in. I couldn’t poke around. I kept moving.

  As I made my way toward the elevator I wondered what had become of the place on Juarez after I left.

  Then I told myself I was being an idiot. I knew what happened to it—nothing. Juarez was in the burbs west of the Trap, and sunlight was already crawling down the western rim of the crater that sheltered the city. Most of the west end was already abandoned and empty. There was no way my old landlord had found another tenant.

  I stopped in my tracks as a thought hit me.

  There was no way my landlord had found another tenant. My old office would be standing empty. Had he even bothered to change the codes, or clear out my old furniture? That com system I had been missing might still be there. Oh, I’d shut it down when I left, but I hadn’t taken the time to wipe it properly; there wasn’t much on it I’d cared about enough to make sure it was erased.

  That was something I might want to check out while I was in town.

  Right now, though, I was headed down into Trap Under to find Seventh Heaven and my father’s still-breathing remains. I started walking again, ignoring the floaters that were starting to cluster around me, offering free drinks, or a buy-in bonus for the tables, or discounted admission to the private shows.

  The elevator was feeling chatty when I stepped in, but I didn’t listen as it started telling me about all the delights Nightside City had to offer. “Down,” I said. “Level B3.”

  The doors closed, and once it heard that I was headed lower the ads changed mood. “Rough night?” the elevator asked. “We’ve got options—credit on easy terms, service contracts, a dozen ways to get back in the game.”

  “I’m here on private business,” I said. “Shut up.”

  “Yes, mis’.” Then it shut up. Some places the elevators would have kept talking, but the Ginza was a class outfit.

  The door opened on a quiet corridor carpeted in a restful shade of blue, with walls that shimmered gently. A display hung in the air, directing me to the Ginza’s financial center and personnel offices, an organ broker or two, and Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery. I reached up and tapped that last one, and it turned orange. Orange arrows appeared in the carpet, as well.

  I followed the arrows, and found my way to a door that showed a scene out of some ancient fantasy, with men and women wearing wisps of pastel gauze as they cavorted amid white marble columns and red and gold tapestries. The name “Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery,” in golden letters, drifted through the sky visible between the columns.

  I walked up to it; the images faded away, and the door slid open. I stepped through into a sunlit forest glade, and a gentle voice said, “An attendant will be with you shortly. A bench is available to your right.”

  Ordinarily I don’t need to be told where the seats are, but the bench was half-hidden by the images, which covered every available surface. Knowing where to look saved me a second or two. I took a seat.

  Birds flitted through the trees, green and red and blue amid the golden sunlight and green leaves. It was pretty, but I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

  “Seems to me it’s bad psychology, doing the waiting room up like this,” I said to the room. “Doesn’t it remind customers that they can live in whatever setting they want without having the whole thing fed straight into their brains?”

  “Oh, no,” that soothing voice replied. “These are just images. You can’t touch them, or smell them, or taste them, and your options are limited to what’s already in memory. They’re nowhere near as immersive as the dream experience we offer. A quick sample will demonstrate the difference; just five minutes and you’ll see just how unsatisfying these mere images of colored light really are. Shall I set a trial session up for you?”

  I shuddered. “No. I’m here on family business, I’m not a customer.”

  “I see. Here’s Mis’ Wu to help you.”

  A handsome young man appeared, striding through the trees toward me, with a unicorn close on his heels. His deep-gray worksuit looked incongruous in that fantasy setting, so I wasn’t surpri
sed, when the image skipped slightly as the real Mis’ Wu stepped through the projection into the room, to see that he was really wearing exactly that suit.

  That skip—you’d think they could avoid that, adjust the image on the fly so that it matched the real man. Maybe they just didn’t care about such details; after all, everyone who came here knew perfectly well these trees weren’t real, the sunlight wasn’t real, the birds and unicorn didn’t exist.

  In fact, I wondered whether they left that tiny flaw in there deliberately, just to remind you that this was a cheap illusion, and they could sell you a much better one.

  “May I help you?” Mis’ Wu asked, smiling.

  I stood up. “I’m looking for Guohan Hsing,” I said.

  “I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name.”

  “Mis’ Hsing is a long-term customer,” the office voice said. “He has been with us almost twenty years.”

  “Ah, that was before my time,” Mis’ Wu said.

  In most businesses, I’d expect a front-office type like this to have the complete client specs somewhere in his own head. For a dreamtank, though, what was the point? Generally once someone bought a permanent contract, the only people who had to worry about her were the techs who maintained the tank and kept the customer’s body alive. The salespeople didn’t need to know who was stashed away in back.

  At least, ordinarily they didn’t, but here I was, looking for my father.

  “What’s your interest in Mis’ Hsing?” Wu asked.

  “It’s a family matter,” I said. “I’m his daughter.”

  Wu frowned.

  “At the time of his contracting with us, Mis’ Hsing had no children on record,” the office said.

  I sighed. “He emancipated us,” I said. “Genetically, he has three children.”

  “Legally, he has none.”

  “This isn’t a legal matter; it’s a family concern.”

  “Mis’ Wu?” the office said, indicating that it had reached the limits of its programming.

  “A family is a legal entity,” Wu said.

  “A family is also a genetic network,” I said.

  “What do you want with Guohan Hsing?”

  “I want to be sure he’s all right. Certain... genetic issues have arisen.”

  “Mis’ Hsing is in perfect health,” the office said. “His life chamber is functioning properly in every way.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said, smiling. “But as I say, we have reasons to be concerned about his continued health that have nothing to do with Seventh Heaven’s no doubt excellent service.”

  “Are you saying there’s some sort of hereditary defect involved?” Wu asked.

  “There might be, yes.”

  “I believe we test our customers for such things,” Wu said.

  “Indeed we do,” the office agreed.

  This was not going as smoothly as I had hoped. I thought for a moment, looking at Wu’s manly face, then decided that it might be worth giving the truth a try.

  “I’m also concerned,” I said, “about what’s going to happen to him once the sun’s above the crater wall, and Nightside City gets bathed in hard ultraviolet.”

  “Oh,” Wu said. “Well, as you can see, we’re safely below the surface here. We’ll continue our operations uninterrupted.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Of course! We have contracts.”

  “You won’t transfer your clients to Prometheus, or one of the mining colonies?”

  “We have no plans to do so. The Eta Cassiopeia division of Seventh Heaven is based right here in Nightside City, in Trap Under, and we expect to stay.”

  “Do you, personally, intend to stay?” I asked.

  Wu looked uneasy. “I... haven’t decided,” he said.

  “I don’t mean any offense, Mis’ Wu, but my brother and sister and I would feel more comfortable if our father was housed on Prometheus, rather than here in Nightside City. We would, of course, be happy to pay the cost of transferring him.”

  Wu’s uneasiness turned to misery. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Under the terms of his contract, Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery is Mis’ Hsing’s legal guardian,” he said. “We are obligated to ensure his safety. We cannot entrust it to anyone else.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re only on Epimetheus. We can’t take him elsewhere.”

  “You don’t have a branch on Prometheus? Or Cass II, or out-system?”

  “I regret to say we do not. All our life chambers are right here in Trap Under.”

  Life chambers—who thought up that euphemism for dreamtanks? “Can’t you transfer guardianship to us?”

  “No, Mis’ Hsing, we can’t. Our contracts are very firm about that; many of our clients are quite insistent on it. The idea of being passed from hand to hand—they find that very disturbing. Our guardianship is non-transferrable.”

  “But we’re his family!”

  “Legally, you aren’t.”

  “Can’t you wake him up and ask him if we can move him to Prometheus? I’m sure we can arrange matters with a company in Alderstadt, and do it in such a way that Seventh Heaven doesn’t lose any credits.”

  “The potential liability in a situation like that—no, we can’t. We can’t wake him without a court order, in any case, and even if we did, he wouldn’t be legally competent. We have a contract and legal precedents that say as much.”

  “I don’t believe this,” I said. “There must be some way he can be moved.”

  “No, I don’t think there is.”

  I stared at him for a moment, and that handsome face of his seemed much less appealing than it had when he first entered.

  “Fine,” I said at last. “I’m sure he’ll be safe here with you.”

  “I’m sure he will, Mis’ Hsing. Honestly.”

  “Could we at least get a tissue sample to check for genetic disorders?” I didn’t really have any use for one, so far as I knew, but I thought I might as well maintain my cover story.

  “I think we can do that. Give us forty-eight hours, and we can bring it to you. Where are you staying?”

  I grimaced. “Never mind,” I said. “Thank you for your time.” I turned to go.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t be more help,” he called after me as I stepped out of the glade and back into the corridors of Level B3.

  “So am I,” I said.

  Because it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get Dad out. It just meant I wasn’t going to do it legally or easily.

  Chapter Seven

  A casino cop was waiting for me in the elevator, ready to escort me out of the Ginza. She didn’t seem particularly hostile about it; I wasn’t being thrown out, IRC was just keeping an eye on me.

  I couldn’t blame them. After all, I had tried to steal one of their employees. This wasn’t about that welsher years ago; this was about ’Chan. I went peacefully.

  As I walked I thought matters over, and wondered whether I really had any business here at all. Mis’ Wu and the office AI had seemed pretty confident that they could keep my father alive and well in his tank after the sun rose, and maybe they could. Up until Grandfather Nakada had made his pitch, I’d been perfectly willing to leave Dad in their hands. I tried to remember just why it had seemed so urgent to get him and ’Chan out.

  Well, ’Chan—he did need to get out. I knew how to do it, too, though I hadn’t said so where IRC could hear me. I’d need to do it quickly, and it would leave a mess for Nakada to clean up, but I didn’t see that as a real problem.

  The need for speed did mean I had to leave it until last.

  I had come to Nightside City with three jobs to run—get ’Chan out, get Dad out, and see what I could learn about Nakada’s assassin. As I told ’Chan, I hadn’t really thought I would get anywhere with that third one, but unless I thought of a better algorithm I had to leave ’Chan until last, and getting my father out wasn’t running smooth,
so maybe I should take a look at the Nakada case.

  ’Chan thought Yoshio Nakada was dead. That was interesting. Did everyone on Epimetheus think so? I wanted a com. My wrist terminal didn’t have enough screen space for some of what I wanted to do, and I didn’t entirely trust the systems on the ship—the ship was Nakada property, and even if it was old Yoshio’s personal yacht, that didn’t mean his family couldn’t have tampered with it. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to be doing, but I didn’t think it was all going to be stuff I wanted the entire Nakada clan to know.

  I tapped for a cab before I was even out the door of the Ginza, and one was waiting for me, door open, when I reached the street. I gave my cop escort a friendly wave, then climbed into the cab and told it, “Juarez.”

  The old neighborhood had dropped a few bits since I left, and it was easy to see why—sunlight was glinting from the upper floors of the taller buildings, which just looked wrong. The streets were mostly empty. I guessed some people had already managed to get off-planet somehow, but that most were crowding over to Eastside, deeper into the shadow of the crater wall.

  The door of my old building let me in, no questions asked—as I suspected, the landlord hadn’t bothered to wipe my access. After all, I’d left Epimetheus, and why in the galaxy would I ever come back? No reason to worry about me.

  But here I was, all the same. I went up the one flight to my office.

  It was just as I’d last seen it. I walked in and sat down at my desk, and it was as if I’d never left.

  Except I had left. I’d wiped most of my files before I left, so I knew I couldn’t just plug back in and ride the wire. I’d brought copies of my office software, but I didn’t have any of the local updates, and I hadn’t kept all the data I’d had when I lived here. I hadn’t thought I would ever need it. I could get on the nets, I could function, but I wouldn’t have everything I used to have.

  On the other hand, I had stuff now I’d never had before. I had some access codes Grandfather Nakada gave me. I had information about how Nakada Enterprises was set up here. And I had a spaceship waiting for me at the port.