by Kage Baker
“He was such a brilliant boy, too.” Blaise looked sad.
It’s the same man. My sensors weren’t as sharp back then, or I’d have noticed what I’m picking up now. Look at him, Alec. He still looks twenty, he ain’t changed.
“Balkister? About a billion times smarter than me,” said Alec, with his best idiot-aristo grin. “He’s kept that youthful glow, anyway. You’re looking pretty damned good yourself, yeah? You must live a trouble-free life.”
Did Blaise look just a little self-conscious? He picked up his menu and fiddled with it. “It’s the carrageenan-aloe packs. You wouldn’t believe what they do for your skin. But what about you? I hear you’re mostly living on your boat, nowadays.”
“Ship.” Ship!
“Yes, of course, sorry. You’ve decided to follow in your father’s footsteps, I suppose?”
“No, not exactly.” Can he tell you’re with me?
I don’t think so. Yer being monitored pretty close, though. Steady, lad.
Diffidently Alec picked up his menu and thumbed it, letting the column of entrees chatter suggestions at him while he calmed himself. Eggplant-walnut moussaka with soy feta? Lentil kebabs? White grape juice “unsweetened, with the faintest kiss of the authentic balsamic resin”? He had a sudden memory of Blaise, leaping from the falling catwalk, landing with perfect poise. The silly tabloids were always warning about cyborg monsters. Cold, flawless, machine-powered supermen, certain to take over the world if they were ever created … and here was one sitting across the table.
Shrack, Dr. Zeus could have hundreds of these things running around spying for them. And they look just like us!
What d’you mean, US? Keep yer sense of perspective, son.
“My father just sort of drifted,” Alec said. “I don’t think he ever got over his divorce. I’ve had two so far and couldn’t be happier about ’em. Bye-bye baby, talk to my solicitor!” He cackled like a moron and Blaise laughed with him.
“I’m glad to hear that, anyway. We all felt terrible for you when the sixth earl was killed. I can remember it as though it were yesterday.” Blaise shook his head. “I thought you’d gone crazy. Of course, I don’t think I’d be able to cope if I suddenly found myself orphaned like that.”
“Well, but I wasn’t, exactly,” Alec said, adjusting the volume on his menu. “Mummy-dear’s still alive, you know. Not that the cold bitch ever sent me a condolence card or anything. I tried to go and see her a few months ago, actually. She wasn’t having any. Well, shrack her, I said to myself.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Blaise said. “Trying to put the past behind you, effect a reconciliation, that sort of thing?”
“Yeah. No use.” Alec shrugged, setting the menu aside. “Can’t win ’em all.”
“I gather you’re just sort of touring around, living on your investments?”
“Pretty much.”
“I felt sure you’d go on to Mars.” Blaise sat back, shaking his head. “There was always something about you, Checkerfield! Something that promised more, I don’t know, ability than the rest of us. You were such a genius in systems. You’ve never gone on to do anything with that, have you?”
“I have, too. You should see what I’ve spent on customizing my personal setup.” Alec grinned toothily, lounging back in his chair. He made himself look into Blaise’s eyes and wink, though his skin was crawling. “It does everything I need it to. All I ask is a tall ship and a ton of cash to sail her with, you know? It makes sure there’s always enough ice for my drinks, too.”
At this point the waiter edged up to them and set down a dish of olives. Alec ordered the moussaka and Blaise complimented him on his choice, ordering the same. When the waiter had departed, he said:
“But was this really what you wanted to do with your life, Checkerfield? Wasn’t there a time when you thought you could ask for more than money and creature comforts? I’d have thought you’d got restless with all that by now.”
He’s about to make his pitch. Listen hard.
Aye aye. “Maybe.” Alec shrugged again. “But what else is there? Sitting in on a social administration committee with Elvis Churchill? No, thanks. Not when the Caribbean is one big party, man.”
“There’s the private sector, you know,” Blaise said. “Some of them are up to some pretty exciting things.”
Here it comes.
“Like the people you work for, for instance?” Alec sampled an olive. Rich, bitter, complex flavors. Oil-cured.
“Yes, actually.”
“On the way over here I was remembering what I’d heard about ’em. Some kind of story that they’d come up with a time machine or something. Totally nuts. They don’t really have a time machine, do they, like in that holo? That would be cool.”
“I’ll tell you this much, they’re on to some stuff that’s nearly as incredible,” Blaise said, looking terribly sincere. “They’re the people who are going to shape our future, Checkerfield, take it from me. And they treat their creative people awfully well. I mean, the salaries and benefits are super, but the best part of the job is the sheer adventure. The opportunity to benefit humanity in ways you couldn’t even imagine. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Alec said cautiously.
“It is. Look, shall I come to the point? They need talent. I thought of you at once. Hey, I know you’re not the man to put on a suit every day and report to a desk; but it’s not like that, Checkerfield, trust me. It’s what you can do with that incredible genius of yours they’re interested in, not how well you do interdepartmental politics. I think you’d really enjoy working there.”
How’s he know you’ve got an incredible genius?
Everybody knew my test scores. All the same …
“I don’t know, man, I’m pretty happy on my ship.” Alec ate another olive. “Parties. Women. Plenty of fun I can’t get here, know what I mean?” He winked again but couldn’t bring himself to nudge Blaise.
“Well, did I mention Dr. Zeus is on an island in the Pacific? You wouldn’t have to change your lifestyle at all,” Blaise told him, settling back and lifting his glass.
Right. He’s made his bid. Pretend to take the bait.
“Which one?” Alec looked intrigued.
“Santa Catalina,” Blaise said. “Tiny independent republic off California.”
“No kidding?” Alec sat back too as the waiter brought their orders. “I know where that is. Nice climate out there. Well, I might be interested after all.”
“Fabulous,” said Blaise, raising his glass. “They have an office here in London, did I mention? Oh, Checkerfield, I’ve got a really good feeling about this. Here’s to a successful career at Dr. Zeus for milord!”
“Hey ho,” Alec said, lifting his glass in a toast too. And yo ho ho, you mechanical bastard.
One week later he was shown into a waiting area, in the plushest office he’d ever seen in a lifetime of dealing with expensive legal counsel. No sooner had one very pretty girl directed him to an antique chair than another very pretty girl brought a tray of tea things, all antique Wedgwood, virtually kneeling before him to offer it. No cream or sugar, of course, and the tea was hibiscus-chamomile; but Dr. Zeus was doing its best to give him the royalty treatment. He accepted a cup of the thin sour stuff and gave the girl his most charming smile.
“Thanks, babe,” he said. She blushed and stammered:
“Mr. Wolff will be with you in no time, my lord. He didn’t want to keep you waiting at all. He was really so awfully impressed with your application!”
“Well, let’s hope I pass the test.” Alec leaned forward conspiratorially and let his voice drop to its most seductive purr. “Is it a tough test, do you think? D’you reckon I’ve got a chance at all, love?”
“Oh, I’m sure you have,” the girl said, staring into his eyes. He inhaled her scent. She was human. He held her gaze, persuading just a little, and said:
“You really think so? Then if I do pass, what would you s
ay—”
“Ms. Fretsch?” The fine paneled door was opened by a solidly built man in a suit of elegant and formal cut. She squeaked and rose to her feet in one graceful movement, bearing the tray up with scarcely a rattle of crockery. Alec watched her fleeing back regretfully, then turned his attention to the man in the doorway.
He’s another one, boyo, damn near as much a machine as me, and he’s scanning you. Steady.
Alec smiled at the man, who was staring at him intently with cold gray eyes. The man smiled back, however, and thrust out his hand.
“My lord! Delighted to meet you at last. How are you this morning?”
Alec set down his tea and rose to shake the man’s hand. It felt human. The man wasn’t sweating at all, nor did he smell nervous.
“Hi. I’m fine, thanks. You?”
“Very well indeed. Miguel Wolff, at your service, my lord. May I offer you a seat in my private office?” He gestured and stepped aside to reveal the inner sanctum. Alec accepted his offer, wary as he crossed the threshold, but no alarms sounded and no guards seized him.
If the other room had been full of antiques, this one was an absolute museum. With the exception of the electronics console, not one other piece of furniture in the room was less than a century old. Well, no; the intricate oriental carpet on the floor was new, to judge from its plush pile and depth. Made of wool, too, from the smell, and wool was outrageously illegal nowadays! Alec settled into a very comfortable chair and looked around.
I count five surveillance cameras. Concealed door behind that panel Nobody hidden there, though.
“Now, of course we’ve done some preliminary research on you, my lord,” said Wolff, going to a sideboard of dark oak. Ranged along its top were several decanters of gleaming crystal. “Just for form’s sake.” He poured out a glass of something intensely red and turned with it. “We like to familiarize ourselves with the tastes of our creative men, as we find it facilitates the working relationship. I trust you’ll appreciate the mutual confidence in a glass of claret?” He bowed and offered the glass to Alec.
Alec inhaled. No drugs or poisons; even a decent vintage. Safe enough. He accepted it, smiling, but narrowed his eyes slightly. “Thanks. Your research was pretty thorough, yeah?”
The man gave the faintest apologetic shrug, pouring a glass of claret for himself. “It had to be, my lord. We deal in certain specialty wares, for a variety of interesting clients. We have a healthy disregard for what I may as well describe plainly as damned stupid laws.” He sat at the desk and sipped his claret appreciatively. “I don’t really think gentlemen need concern themselves with civic ordinances, and I imagine you’d agree with me.”
“I might.”
“Just so.” Wolff set down his glass. “Now then, my lord. What can I tell you about Dr. Zeus, Incorporated?”
“Everything,” said Alec innocently.
“Certainly. Shall we begin with annual and projected revenues?” Wolff selected a printout from a folder on his desk and handed it across to Alec.
Steady, lad. He ought to know you don’t read.
I understand the numbers, though. Alec glanced over the figures and raised his eyebrows. Dr. Zeus was wealthier than he was. The Captain snarled.
“As you might imagine, this allows us to pay our best people what they’re worth,” Wolff said. “We find specified salaries inconvenient. Bonus systems produce better results, though of course we guarantee a more than comfortable minimum.”
“You’ve got some sort of tax deal with that island Blaise was telling me about, yeah?” Alec sipped his claret. It was superb.
“Naturally, my lord.”
“Good.” Alec nodded. “I thought it was funny you had an office here in London, actually. From what Blaise said, I thought the headquarters were out there.”
“Oh, we’ve got offices all over the world,” Wolff said. He dropped the volume of his voice a notch. “Though this is the office where most of the decisions are made, always has been. Santa Catalina is simply where the fun and games happen. Shall we have a little history? Officially, we went into business in 2318. Only a handful of maverick researchers, and a few far-sighted investors.
“There’s a company legend, though, that we go back a lot further. Supposedly there was a sort of drinking and brainstorming society in the upper echelons of the government, a private club whose origins can be traced at least as far back as the reign of Victoria I. All sorts of people are rumored to have been members. Gentlemen adventurers and gentlemen thinkers, too. Some names you might recognize. What they had in common was a certain … daring. A certain refusal to be bound by ordinary limits.”
“Of law?” Alec looked over the top of his glass.
“If you like. Space and time, though, too. Or so it’s rumored.” Wolff smiled. “Rumored, you understand.”
Alec gave a chuckle to imply he understood. “I’ve heard a lot of far-out stories, to tell you the truth.”
Wolff just shrugged, smiling.
There was a silence that dragged on a fraction of a second too long. Finally Wolff said, “That’s an interesting device you wear around your neck, if I may say so, my lord.”
“Oh, this?” Alec put up his hand to his torque. “Didn’t” your investigation turn up that I’m a cyborg? I am, you see.”
“Are you now?” Wolff’s eyes glinted with silent laughter. “Under the circumstances, that might be quite an advantage. I expect your friend Blaise gave you an idea of the job description?”
“All he said was that you need more than an ordinary technician,” Alec said.
“Yes, we do,” said Wolff. “Well, my lord, what we’d like to do now is get some idea of your particular strengths in relation to the system we use. We’ve designed a program that gives us a remarkable profile. Would you like to have a look at it?”
This is it, son!
“Love to,” said Alec, setting down his glass. Wolff moved his glass and gave some unspoken command. A monitor screen arose from the surface of the desk, blue-green like the sea and seemingly as deep, full of shifting lights. Wolff stood, indicating with a courteous gesture that Alec should come around the desk and be seated in his place. As Alec did so, he saw the buttonball that had been concealed just under the desk’s surface.
“There now. I think you’ll find my personal station more comfortable. We usually supply optics to our applicants, but you’re rather a special case, my lord. Please take as long as you like. It’s at your disposal all afternoon, if you wish.” Wolff moved toward what was apparently a late seventeenth-century cabinet and opened its doors, to reveal a state-of-the-art music system to rival Alec’s own. “Music suit you, my lord? I can recommend Vivaldi for the experience, but I have everything in here. Literally. Please feel free to make your own selection.”
“Vivaldi’s fine,” Alec said, though he had no idea what kind of group Vivaldi might be. Wolff nodded and programmed in a selection. The air filled with melody like the carvings on the old furniture, like the detailed patterns on the rug, strings and harpsichords and flutes. Wolff bowed low and made a discreet exit through the wall panel.
Now, me hearty, now!
Let’s go.
Alec gave a couple of commands and bowed his head, forcing himself to relax. There was a split second when he thought he was rushing forward at the screen, splashing through it as though he were diving into water; then he and the Captain were inside.
Bleeding Jesus, it’s huge! said the Captain.
Wow, Alec agreed. The visual analogy was a vast cathedral, stretching up into a distance that skewed perspective, walled with masses of tiny lights winking on and off as unknown orders were given or obeyed in time and space that could only be guessed at. In the midst of this they stood, two tall gentlemen in three-piece suits. Before them was something that resembled a child’s gymnasium. Its rings and bars were of ridiculously easy reach. The Captain pointed at it.
That’s yer entrance examination, lad, or I miss my guess.
&nbs
p; Yeah. I’ll get started. You go for the grab.
Where do I even begin? The Captain chortled, advancing on the nearest interface port. So many galleons, so little time!
See if they’ve really got time travel. Okay? That’s something that could come in incredibly useful. Alec loped up to the gym and began his test, forcing himself through the easy paces, walking from ring to ring and bar to bar.
Aye aye, son. The Captain dove into the nearest wall of lights.
Ring to ring and now down on hands and knees through the crawl-barrel. This was stupid! Was this really the average ability of most applicants to Dr. Zeus? For the first time Alec felt a sense of smugness at his own freak of genius. It was promptly replaced by caution as he regarded the miles of lights reaching out in all directions. However limited the human individuals who had made this place, he didn’t care to find out how he’d do if he were really tested by it. The Captain was the most powerful artificial intelligence that had ever existed—to his knowledge—and he didn’t have a fraction of the endowment of Dr. Zeus. Thank God there was no identity here, no personality, nothing but unassociated memory and reflexes, or the Doctor might just rise up and clutch them in a giant’s hand until they crushed.
He could still hear the baroque music tinkling away. In fact, there was a quartet of chamber musicians just at the edge of the gymnasium, men in powdered wigs and tight silk pants, just like in cinema, unaware of him, self-absorbed in their playing. So that was Vivaldi? He wondered how they’d done road tours, back before the Industrial Age.
The test was clearly designed to get harder as one neared its completion. On the last few yards he was actually obliged to hop up and catch hold of the rings to pull himself forward, stretch his muscles a bit. All the same, he’d finished in a matter of minutes when it had been expected he’d take all afternoon. He glanced around nervously, wondering how the Captain was doing. Vivaldi played on, ignoring him.
ALEC!
Alec jumped. The Captain was emerging from the nearest port, with some difficulty. He appeared to have grown to mammoth size, reducing the scale of their environment from cathedral to fairly respectable church.
