Three avatars coalesced one by one, standing atop the temporary patchwork of the synthetic landscape, each looped in via the lines of a neural subnet linkage. The connections were vague, temporary things written to live only brief lives in the virtual world. It was important to the Collective’s continued existence that no trails be left, out in meat space or equally here in the unreal, for their constant foe to latch on to.
“I am monitoring,” said the cube of azure crystal. It turned gently on one apex, catching the reflected light of the myriad data trains running high above them. “We need to be quick. One gathering was risky enough… two only invites danger.”
“So talk, then.” The words came from the only human-like simulacrum in the data-space, the artfully neutral avatar as featureless as ever.
“Where’s our fella with the deep pockets?” The sardonic comment emerged from the slowly transforming silver icon that drifted between them. Letters grew from one into another, spelling out nonsense words in Cyrillic.
“He’s otherwise engaged,” said the cube. “What do you have to tell us?”
“Jensen has agreed to join us,” said the metallic symbol. “I honestly had my doubts, but what do I know?”
“You should have believed me,” said the human.
“Fine,” came the reply. “That’s a ten-spot I owe you.”
“This is good news.” The cube’s flat, mechanical voice robbed the statement of any potency. “With Jensen in play, we can increase the tempo of our operations. We can redeploy Saxon and Kelso, and some of the others.”
“One step at a time,” warned the human avatar. “The Collective is at a critical juncture. The last thing we should do is overreach.”
“So which way do we push our new recruit?” said the icon.
The human figure cocked its head. “This is the start of the next phase in our war,” insisted the avatar. “But we still have far to go. The heart of the enemy’s infiltration of this so-called Task Force is in Eastern Europe. We need to target the unit operating in Prague to root it out at the source.”
The cube’s rotations slowed. “Who is in command there?”
“This man.” A pane of information grew out of the darkness surrounding them, showing stolen fragments of a personnel file. “James Miller. We’ll need to determine if he is corrupt, or merely the unwitting tool of others.”
The silver icon flickered and changed again. “We’ll need to get our boy out there, then. How do we do that?”
“With care.” The human avatar gave a ghostly nod. “I believe Adam Jensen is our best option in this scenario. I see how he thinks. I understand him.” The figure paused. “Now we have him in the fold, he will help us bring down the Illuminati… or he will perish in the attempt.”
THE RIALTO – DETROIT – UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Jensen watched Pritchard roll the server rig off the stage and into the back of a minivan. Packed in with all the other hardware from his hideout, it barely fit, and the battered vehicle sank low on its shocks as he slammed the rear doors shut.
“You sure that thing will run?” he said, as the hacker came around the front.
“I’m abandoning the building,” Pritchard told him. “Even if I have to push this myself.” He shook his head. “You would think that the MCBs losing most of their gun hands would be a good thing for the areas outside the police-patrolled zones… but instead it’s just stirred up a different kind of anarchy. As hard as it is to believe, Magnet and his goons imposed a violent sort of order. Now every block in Downtown is picking a fight with the next.”
“Where are you gonna go?”
Pritchard eyed him. “I’ve got other places in Detroit. Better that you don’t know where, Jensen.”
“You have no idea, do you?”
He gave a rueful nod. “I have no idea.” He reached into his jacket and produced a pocket secretary, offering the slim digital pad to Jensen. “Here. You should have this.”
Jensen took the device, turning it over in his hands. “A farewell gift?” he said dryly. “Francis, I’m touched.”
Pritchard scowled back at him. “As I’ve come to realize how utterly unreasonable you can be, I know there’s no point trying to convince you to steer clear of Juggernaut.” He pointed at the pad. “So this is all I can do to stop you from getting killed too quickly. On that device is all the data I’ve gathered over the past two years about everything that we have experienced – the Aug Incident, Sarif, Humanity Front, the conspiracy, all of it. Everything from the day those mercenaries broke into Sarif Industries until right now. If you’re determined to throw your life away on this crusade, there may be something in there that can help you.”
“Thanks, Pritchard,” he said, and this time he meant it.
“Don’t get maudlin,” sneered the hacker. “I’m not doing this because we are friends. I’m doing it because I believe if anyone can hurt the people behind these acts, it’s you. I just don’t think you’ll live to tell the tale.” He shook his head, as if he were considering a puzzle that had no solution. “You’re a lot of things, Jensen, but you’re not an idiot. Think for a second, and be honest. Why are you really determined to do this?”
The answer came to him without pause. “Because someone has to take a stand. And like I told you before, I don’t have anything left to lose.” He stuffed the digital pad in his pocket. “I do nothing, and I’m complicit in it, you get that? That’s how they’ve got this far. Because too many people looked the other way.”
“They? The Illuminati?” Pritchard couldn’t say the word without sneering.
“What they call themselves isn’t important. It never was.” Jensen shook his head. “The only thing that matters is that we have to stop them. Fight them right to the bloody, bitter end. If not, then one day we wake up and we’re living in their future instead of ours.”
“You make it sound like the end of the world,” said Pritchard.
“Not yet,” Jensen told him, as he walked away, “but you can see it from here.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First off, my thanks must go to Mary DeMarle and Rayna Anderson for our collaboration in creating the original version of Adam Jensen’s ‘missing time’ narrative, which this novel draws from. Along with Mary and Rayna, much appreciation is also due to the rest of my colleagues at Eidos Montréal on the Deus Ex: Mankind Divided team – among them Jean-Francois Dugas, Jonathan Jacques-Belletête, Jason Dozois, Rees Savidis, Taras Stasiuk, Mark Cecere, Leanne C. Taylor, Jeffery Campbell, Daniel Dick, André Vu, David Anfossi, and many more.
Thanks to my editors Alice Nightingale, Natalie Laverick and Hayley Shepherd at Titan Books for their patience and enthusiasm.
And of course, thank you to the creators of the original Deus Ex games – Warren Spector, Harvey Smith, Sheldon Pacotti, Austin Grossman, Chris Todd and the Ion Storm team – for inventing this dynamic fictional future.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Swallow is a writer on Deus Ex: Mankind Divided – the latest incarnation of the blockbuster Deus Ex videogame series – and was nominated for a BAFTA award for his work on Deus Ex: Human Revolution.
He is a New York Times bestseller and the author of over forty books, including Deus Ex: Icarus Effect and Deus Ex: Fallen Angel, Nomad, the Scribe award winner Day of the Vipers, The Poisoned Chalice, Nemesis, The Flight of the Eisenstein, Jade Dragon, The Sundowners series of steampunk Westerns, The Butterfly Effect and fiction from the worlds of 24, Star Trek, Warhammer 40,000, Doctor Who, Stargate and Judge Dredd.
Swallow’s other credits include the critically acclaimed non-fiction work Dark Eye: The Films of David Fincher, scriptwriting for Star Trek Voyager, videogames and audio dramas.
He lives in London, and is currently working on his next book.
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