Orbital Burn

by K. A. Bedford

  Lou thought about Jen’s predicament, It’s not the same thing at all. Jen’s software, not real, like a person. It’s okay for a company to own a piece of software.

  But what about self-aware software? Jen was self-aware. If the software is alive, and conscious, is it right to own it and control its movement? And how is software consciousness like Jen’s different from consciousness like mine, run by machinery? She shook her head, trying not to think about this. She’d had plenty of navel-gazing crap like that in those philosophy classes at university years ago. Yikes!

  Lou shifted her body against the leather. It felt great, so damn comfortable, though the aroma of genuine leather was a bit difficult to take. Jen took good care of it, obviously. Lou sipped her strong espresso, enjoying the aroma, wishing she’d been able to taste it so well back at Sheb’s all those mornings. The coffee was palate-stinging hot, and much stronger than she remembered, all of which helped distract her from some disturbing questions.

  But it was not distracting enough.

  There were too many worrying things going on. She said, “How come I’m inside your apartment?”

  Jen took up her iced water, tinkled the ice a little, and took her time answering. At last she said, “Because it would be rude to yell all this to you through the door?” She tried a smile. Lou scowled. Jen went on, “You’re basically still in the shop while the tech types finish diagnostics and testing your new gear.”

  Lou peered at her. “New gear?” Not wanting to sound upset, she demanded, “Would you like to explain that?”

  Jen produced from nowhere a small blue ball with a pretty swirly pattern on it. “This is a file containing a detailed log of what they did to you, if you want to read it. I can tell you, though, it’s kinda long and boring.” As she held it, a label appeared, circling around the ball, reading: “Meagher Upgrade v1.0”

  Lou yelled, shocked, “Whoa! What the hell is that?” This, more than anything, alarmed her, seeing that innocuous orbiting label. It broke the convincing illusion that she was sitting in Jen’s apartment, and that she was in a physical place. You didn’t see revolving label graphics on things like that in the “real” world. “Can I … see?” She stared at the ball like it might be a bomb.

  Jen tossed it over. Lou snatched it from the air with her free hand. The ball was heavy, which she hadn’t expected. Jen mumbled something about the weight of things being proportional to file size, but Lou didn’t hear much of that. As soon as she had the ball in her hand, she felt a flood of data gush through her. “Oh … oh my…!” After a moment the flood stopped; she realized she knew every detail of her new gear, even if she didn’t understand much of it. Lots of it was mysterious acronyms and serial numbers, and performance ratings in measurements she didn’t comprehend, and cellulophotonic diagrams, and system models and a troubleshooting guid — “Consult only Otaru technicians for diagnostic assistance.” There was even a warranty, for God’s sake! She had a warranty and all kinds of help files. And, in the middle of all that, a flashing item: “Interface Guide.”

  “Lou, are you okay? You’re not weirding out on me, are you?”

  Lou was sitting, feeling numb, wanting to laugh, but was too horrified. “Is there … any of my brain left?”

  Jen said, “The gear takes up less than one percent of total skull volume, Lou. There’s really less than you think, based on reading that list. It just seems like a lot.”

  Lou said, “Jen, I’ve got a bloody warranty!”

  Jen laughed. “Me too! Cool, huh? I’ve even got an End User License Agreement!”

  “This is what was done to Dog, isn’t it?”

  Jen managed an uneasy shrug. “Geez, I hate this. Well, yes, sort of. You both have live data access, pansynchronous multiplexing high-bandwidth phased links.”

  Lou said, “Gesundheit!”

  Jen smiled and went on with the briefing. “Full duplex communication capability anywhere in local space, all modes and resolutions, with all the controls you need. There’s a custom suite of system intrusion ware, too, courtesy of Otaru, because you just never know when you’ll need it. Everything from your Active Paper has been downloaded into a separate memory bubble. I think I’ve got it here on the table, actually…” Jen leaned forward and began rummaging through the papers, books and objects scattered on the table. Lou watched, feeling more alarmed by the moment. In so many respects she felt quite normal — other than a sort of fogginess. It suddenly occurred to her, I could be a bloody spy with this lot!

  And then another thought, What makes you think you’re not?

  Memories drifted in and out of reach, flashes of horror and sadness.

  Sadness: she remembered Dog. Dog had a rig like this in his head. “Can I reach Dog with this stuff?”

  Jen found a small red ball with a swirling white pattern, and leaned across to hand it to Lou. “Here’s the memory bubble, you’ll find everything’s there, pretty much.”

  Lou took the bubble and it immediately metamorphosed into her Active Paper. It looked exactly like the one she remembered. She touched it on; it powered up and showed all her accumulated mail and other files. Time to start hosing out her inboxes again. To Jen she said, “I thought you said I’ve got this in my head?”

  “Lou, all of this is in your head. This whole apartment is the interface, me included. Otaru figured it could … adapt me, and did a deal with the guys at Relational.” She didn’t look all that delighted with this adaptation.

  “God…” Lou muttered, suspicious, looking around. “What do these bastards want from me, anyway?”

  Jen brightened suddenly. “Oh, by the way, that postcard thing you got from your ex? I did some snooping and got through the crypto.” She paused to look a little pleased with herself, flashing Lou a cheeky, gap-toothed, grin.

  “Later. Can I contact Dog or not?”

  Jen sat back and pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “I think so. I don’t see why not. He’s still missing. Otaru has been looking for him, using all its resources.”

  Lou held her face in her cold, clammy hands. “How long since the trial?”

  “Four days.”

  “And where am I? My physical body.”

  “Ocean House, the Otaru facility. It’s on the north side of Akane Island, away from the city.”

  So they finally got me here, Lou mused, and thought about Dog. She’d been in that holding cell eight days, and here a further four days, leaving Dog wandering through Akane for twelve long days and nights. She then had a vivid memory-flash: the night the cops captured her. Dog fighting hard to escape… He had been reduced to crude animal survival behavior, biting and clawing at Lou, just to get away. And in thinking about it, she felt her hand ache where Dog had mauled her.

  Jen, still looking through the stuff on the table, produced a small yellow cube. “Don’t forget you’ve still got this.”

  Lou stared. The cube flashed and an orbiting label appeared: “Letter from Mother.”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever. Hey, hang on. There was something else. Some meeting I was supposed to … some guy…” She slapped the heel of her right hand against her forehead, as if to shake the memory loose.

  Jen found a stripy red ball. “You mean this?” The label read, “Message from Mitch Coburn.”

  “That’s it, yes. God, I hate being forgetful like this.”

  “That will clear up once the tech guys finish their voodoo.”

  Lou banged her fist on the chair arm. “Bloody hell!” She was surprised at how quickly she’d grown used to having a properly working brain again.

  “I’m really sorry to be the one reporting all this, Lou. Otaru figured the news would be better coming from a friend, that’s all. I’m as uncomfortable about the whole mess as you are.”

  Lou worked her jaw, pissed off, and told herself, “I am not a bloody dispo
sable!”

  And Jen told her, “As far as everybody else is concerned, Lou, yes, you are. The gear they put in your head is dirt cheap, off-the-shelf stuff. Most of it they injected through your sinuses and let it grow into place. No actual open-skull surgery took place. You do have the Otaru logo thing on your forehead, though. And your hair’s gone; they yanked the follicles. Standard procedure.”

  Lou listened. “But why? Why the hell did they do this to me? It’s not like they need all the disposables they can get.”

  “They want you to find Kid and keep him away from the Tourignons.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Those bloody Tourignons. One of them tried to kill me! No, two! Two of them!”

  “The latest news we’ve heard is that the Tourignons are talking about some kind of vendetta against you, like they’re gonna hire some outfit to get you. Etienne is said to be mad with grief. Sounds rather operatic, if you want my opinion.”

  “A vendetta? What?”

  Jen held her hands up, a don’t-blame-me gesture. “He figures you caused the death of three of his family members.”

  “But that’s complete nonsense!”

  Jen shrugged, sipped her water. “I’m just reporting.”

  Lou shook her head. “This is unbelievable! I mean, I can deal with killing Giselle. That was me, I did it, I’m really sorry, and I was prepared to live with the court’s judgment. Really was. But I can’t be blamed for the other two. And that stupid Claire-Marie tried to shoot me, for God’s sake! And with a bloody nanophage gun!”

  “Those of us who care about irony thought that part was pretty good.” Jen wore a gentle smile. Lou had to admit, considering how a stolen nanophage launcher helped bring about her current troubles, that she could see the ironic angle there, too.

  “I’m going to talk to him.”

  Jen looked at Lou over the top of her glasses, her gray eyes narrow, evaluating. “Lou, did you just say you’re going to try and meet with Tourignon?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s a good idea. Could be the last thing the old bastard expects.”

  “Lou, now listen to me carefully. Those people want to kill you. They want you dead.”

  “Hey, big news flash. I’m already dead. That’s why Claire-Marie used a phage pistol. And besides, maybe I can get him to see reason.”

  Jen leaned forward. “I am obliged under my own agreement with Otaru to warn you in the strongest terms that this plan is — what’s a good way to put this? —incredibly bloody stupid!”

  “Otaru wants me to keep the kid away from those bastards. First, I want to find out why they want the kid. How he ties in with their big plan. And while I’m at it, I’d like to know how the poor wretch fits in with Otaru’s plans, too. I don’t suppose they’ve told you anything more about that?”

  Jen released a jet of breath and shook her head. “Not a damn thing. I do try to find things out for you, but they just tell me I don’t need to know. They treat me like a bloody program.”

  Lou felt her lip curling into a sardonic smile. “But you are a program, my dear Jenny.”

  “If you want to get all reductionist about it, well yeah. Sure. And you’re a primate. Do you want to be treated like an animal, or do you want to be treated like a person?”

  “Point. Oh, one thing. You say Tourignon’s got some guys to come and whack me for him. How safe are we here?”

  “They showed me the specs on the defense systems. You wouldn’t want to approach the place with anything less than serious military firepower and lots of it. Which you won’t find on this Orbital. They’re kinda funny about people blowing a hole in the hull.”

  Lou nodded. “How about a few well-armed attack hovs?”

  Jen paused a moment. “I’m checking through some simulations. It would depend on numbers, tactics and weaponry. Timing, not so much.”

  “So all in all,” Lou said, “these guys will try to kill me whether I’m on the Orbital or not, right?”

  “Depends whether Tourignon wants to fund an interstellar hunt through all those hypertubes. Hard to say. In any case, they’d be crazy to attack you, now that you’re Otaru property. Otaru would hit back so hard, especially in the courts, where it really hurts.”

  “That’s a dimension I hadn’t considered. But if I leave the Orbital, I lose everything, Kid, Dog, everything.”

  “We only have Dog’s word that Kid is in the vicinity of the Orbital, don’t we?”

  Lou worked her jaw some more, trying to remember Dog’s words that night, just before he took off. Lou asked if Kid was on the Orbital, and Dog said “yes and no…” What did that mean? Frustrated, she covered her face for a long moment. “This is bloody impossible!”

  Jen said, smiling, “In that case, your plan to contact Tourignon might not be so crazy after all.”

  Taking some slow breaths, feeling the beginning of a nasty cough, she said, “Yeah, maybe. Or I could just get myself killed…”

  Then, without warning, Jenny said, “Uh-oh.”

  “Jen?”

  “Otaru wants a word. Hold on…”

  Chapter 21

  The air smelled of salt. There was a cool breeze, and the reek of seaweed.

  “Louise?” It was a man’s voice, with a slight accent. “Louise?”

  Her eyes opened.

  She was lying in a hospital bed. The bed was on a beach. Small breakers foamed white water over the sand towards the bed. She heard squealing overhead; she looked up, saw a silver and white gull hovering, riding the breeze, adjusting its wings to soar in place.

  There was bright sunlight, too, from a sun, she noticed. It looked like about half-past-two in the afternoon. I’m not on the Orbital anymore? Huh?

  “Louise, how are you now?”

  Her head hurt an awful lot. The sun was too bright. She squinted and held her hand up to shield her eyes.

  She looked at the man. A man in a white silk robe. He had a weird, and familiar, hair effect that glinted and diffracted in the sunlight. The man didn’t quite smile, but he looked benign. Lou remembered that benign was a word you used for a lump in your body you could live with.

  “Do you like the view, Louise?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling, completely distracted from her more urgent concerns. “I’ve always loved the sea. I’ve never been to a real beach, parents always too busy to take me, I was sick all the time, you know how it is. It gets to be the kind of thing you only see in books or vids.”

  The sea was so blue it was almost ridiculous. There was a vividness about it that suggested it was real — even as she knew it could not possibly be real. Something was not quite right. “Pretty,” she said, gesturing.

  The man followed her gaze. “I’m glad you like the view. You are very special to us, Louise. We want to take good care of you.”

  “You have quite an investment in me, I know.”

  “We want you in top condition for your project.”

  Lou shaded her eyes and squinted up at the man. He was hard to look at. Like the beach and the sea, he seemed not quite real. She looked at her own hand, and then looked at him. His skin wasn’t the same. The light reflects off him funny, she thought. And his eyes and face. They don’t quite look right.

  She said, “Project?”

  The man smiled. It was only a small smile. He delivered it with great expertise, as if he had practiced it a long time. He produced a small square of white paper, no bigger than his palm. “Hold this, please.” He handed it to her.

  Lou took the paper. It seemed unremarkable, white on both sides, semi-smooth, and cool to the touch. She saw that, despite the whiteness of the paper, and the glare of the afternoon sun, the surface of the paper was easy to see. It was as if the paper was doing something to the light.

  The letter “O” formed. It was tiny at first. The
background darkened to black. The “O” stood out, in white. Lou said, “Oh, wow.” The “O” grew larger, until it almost filled the square.

  The man said, “Touch the symbol, Louise.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to reset your headware. It’s time to restore you.”

  She wondered what “headware” might be. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “You were sick for a while. Now you’re well. We need to get you back to work.”

  This was news to Lou. She shrugged.

  Lou touched the “O”—

  —and was sitting on the kitchen counter at Jenny’s place. Shocked at the transition, she jumped, yelling, “Aaaagh!” Glancing around, blinking in the relative dimness, she found she already missed the sunlight, the sea-smell.

  Jen was making herself a banana sandwich on whole-wheat bread. She looked up at Lou, smiling. “Hey, look who’s back from the shop!”

  Lou glanced around her, getting her bearings again. Something felt weird, but she wasn’t sure what. Her head hurt. “I had a dream about the beach, I think.” She found herself peering hard at Jenny’s sandwich. She could smell the banana.

  “Lou, are you okay?”

  “I feel like someone’s kicked me in the head.”

  “You’ve had a lot of work done in there, Lou. It’s bound to play up a bit at first, even if only with immuno issues.”

  “I thought I was at the beach. A real beach somewhere.”

  “That was Ocean House virtuum. Cool, huh?”

  The pain in her head flashed and she winced. “What? Immuno what? Is that why it’s hurting like this?”

  “Probably transformer buffers. The bits that interface directly between the electrochem brain ops and the cellulophotonics. Brain doesn’t process as fast as the artificial stuff, so there can be problems.”