Needless to say, Paula obeyed the speed limits scrupulously. So early in the morning, we had almost no traffic. At five thirty-one in the winter darkness, we pulled off Aspen into the drive before my house.
For more than a minute, she was silent. "The house is empty, and no one has been inside. There are several monitors focused on the house. Two are safo devices; three are not. Please stay inside the car until those three are neutralized."
"I'll sit tight."
She opened the door and closed it quickly behind her, then moved to the trunk of the groundcar, where she removed a tool kit. She carried it toward Mrs. Clenahar's wall, where she paused and took out a probe of some sort.
There...
The link surprised me, but I realized I'd never closed it, perhaps because I'd been talking to Paula verbally. Do you know whose it is?
It appears to be off-planet manufacture.
She moved toward the topiary pfitzer at the corner of the Puurlins' yard. I couldn't see what she did.
That one was an ISS device, proprietary.
The last monitor was disguised as a branch of the oak on my own property.
ISS also. Safo and sweep systems record only the emissions from your house, and from other dwellings. There is always the possibility that they have infiltrated such systems, but investigating or acting against such is not permitted.
Can I get out?
Wait a moment, if you would. She walked swiftly back to the ground-car and nodded.
I got out, still carrying the tool kit.
"After you pulse your system, please wait a moment before you open the door."
Intermittent flakes of snow swirled around me as I walked up the steps to the front porch, where I did as she'd requested.
"You can open the door now."
After I pushed down on the lever and stepped inside, she turned and scanned the street and the adjoining houses before following me. I closed the door. The house smelled faintly musty, and, again, with Paula standing so close to me I was aware that she smelled both freshly scrubbed and of Fleur-de-Matin.
Somehow, the thought of cydroid hygiene had never crossed my mind before. But then, more than a few things hadn't until the past months.
"The house systems are intact," she stated. "There have been no intrusions."
"You've been monitoring them all along?"
"It seemed prudent. It also seemed wise to let it be known that the Safety Office was closely monitoring your house."
I walked into the kitchen, where I scrubbed out the electrokettle and then refilled it. "Would you like some tea—Grey?"
"It would be good to try it."
"What do you eat, usually?"
"What you've been eating for the past weeks."
While the kettle heated, I headed down to the garage, with Paula just behind me. The Altimus seemed to be fine, and nothing smelled. Then I went back up to the kitchen, where I began to tackle cleaning out everything that had spoiled in the keeper. Even with modern technology—and considering I was a bachelor who kept a sparse larder—there was quite a bit that was spoiled. The greens for my salads were especially bad. The cucumbers had turned to soggy masses of grayish slime.
Paula just watched. Halfway through cleaning the keeper, I fixed two mugs of tea and offered her one. She sipped it gingerly at first. I had to wonder how the sensations—and how many of them—translated back to Central Four.
I finished one mug of tea and fixed another, then looked at Paula, into the storm-gray eyes that had both become familiar and remained an enigma. "Would you like some more?"
"If you please. The tea was quite good."
Her speech patterns varied, too, I'd come to realize, but I wasn't about to ask why. I could have—and would have—once, but it didn't seem right.
With a full mug of Grey tea in hand, I headed into the office and settled down before the console, offering the upholstered leather chair to Paula. The gatekeeper informed me that there were over a hundred link-messages waiting, Before I even checked the log, the first thing I did was call up my credit balance. It wasn't so bad as I'd feared. I had the payment from the Centre, and from SCFA, and even some payments from Reya, Methroy, and Bruce Fuller. In short, I was still solvent, even without touching my savings.
Paula just watched, although I had the feeling that she—and Central Four—were doing far more than that.
Finally, after a good hour, I turned. "Are you here to be my permanent bodyguard?"
"No. A greater understanding of your systems is necessary. Before long, others will discover you are alive and have returned. They might ignore you, or they might try to kill you."
I didn't want to deal with that, not for the moment. "What about you?"
"When you are ready, you will proceed with gathering the evidence to reveal the killers of Everett Forster. Central Four will provide much of the information you will need. Some you will need to find yourself."
"This is too dangerous for you," I found myself saying.
"What do you mean?"
"If any one of the senior safo officers discovers what you've been doing, they could destroy you—literally—in a matter of minutes."
"It would take longer than that, but your point is accurate."
"How much will the equipment cost to make the transfer here?" I asked.
"About ten thousand credits for the system and receivers."
"Then let's order it all now."
There was the silence that I'd come to recognize as Paula's equivalent of surprise. "You would do that?"
"My life is worth far more than that, and I wouldn't have it without you. That's gotten pretty clear, lately." I paused. "There's one other problem ... with safos under the thumb or on the payroll of ISS ... that's got to be stopped." Along with a few other things. I shook my head. "And doesn't... your present form ... belong..."
"This particular cydroid is not on the Office's inventory, but some safos are familiar with it."
"What about cosmetic alterations? You could keep the eye color, and lighten the hair a bit."
"You like the eyes?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"That could be done while you await the equipment."
"You order what you need, and I'll offer the credit authorizations." I stood and gestured to the console.
"It will take a few minutes." Paula rose and then seated herself where I had been. "The orders will have to be routed in a circuitous fashion."
"Why?"
"Because Central Four has the authorization to order the equipment, but the credits cannot come from Central Four."
"And I have the credits, but not the authorization?"
"Exactly."
Her fingers were deft on the keyboard—I'd always used the keyboard. It was far faster and more accurate than speaking, and I thought better through my fingers. Somehow, her deftness pleased me, because fine motor control wasn't usually a cydroid strong point. It also meant that Central Four was very accomplished and very used to being "in" Paula Athene. It might have meant something else as well, but that idea skittered away before I could grasp it.
She'd finished, and I entered the financial codes. We got a confirmation date for January third, two weeks away.
As she stood and moved away from the console, she looked at me, gravely. "Thank you."
"Thank you," I replied. "I don't think I'd be alive without you."
"You might be, but you would have been severely disabled, and it would have taken years for you to return to what you were."
"Your technology is that much more advanced?"
She shook her head. "No one would have authorized the procedures. The expense in a medcenter is considerable, and unless they were undertaken immediately, too much damage would have occurred."
"More risky?"
"Yes. But probability calculations suggested that you would have authorized them."
She was right about that, frighteningly right. After another of those not-quite-awkward silences, I finall
y said, "Now what? I'm back home, back in my office. What am I supposed to do now? Just pick up my consulting where I left off?"
"As much as you can. You should also visit your children."
My children? My children. I swallowed. In a way, I supposed they were. I'd certainly never thought of myself as a parent, but Aliora had always been very clear about it. Neither she nor Dierk had wanted Deidre or Rousel to raise Charis and Alan if anything had happened to them. She'd told me more than once, "If you don't want to raise them, you'd better make sure nothing happens to us." She'd always said it with that playful smile.
Once more, I wondered just what I'd gotten myself into. Here I was, sticking my neck out, not even for a person ... I stopped. Was that really so? What was a person? Paula, as I liked to think of her, was certainly an intelligent being. She was worried that her existence could be terminated. That was human enough. She'd tried her best to do what was right, when so-called flesh and blood humans had not.
But why? That was the part I didn't understand. I'd never heard of a successful installation of ethical programming. Fully integrated ethics programs had turned every system where they had been tried into junk, and partial ethics commands had created bizarre results.
I found my thoughts flying in all directions and forced myself to concentrate. "I'd better check with Deidre. I'm not exactly set up to handle children here."
"That might not be necessary."
I glanced at her.
"The custody provisions may stipulate that the children are to remain in their house."
While I wondered why Paula would mention that, it did sound like something Dierk and Aliora would set up. It was still early enough to be before school, so I decided to see if I could link Charis and Alan— although they might already be off for the holidays.
Charis was at the breakfast table, wearing a pale cream shirt and blue sweater. Her face brightened as she caught my image. "Uncle Jonat!" She turned to Deidre, I thought, although Deidre's back was to the scanner. "I told you he'd be all right." Charis looked at me. "You're wearing a funny suit."
"It's what the medical facility had for me to wear home," I said. "I just got home, and I wanted to see how you and Alan were doing."
Deidre turned. She was holding her youngest daughter, Ruissa, who wasn't even five months old, as I recalled. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her face looked thinner than I recalled. I could hear the twins somewhere. "You didn't link from the medcenter. No one could find you." Her tone was more than a little accusatory.
"I couldn't even talk until a little more than a week ago. The medical people made it a condition of treating me that I not link until I was ready to come home."
"I told Deidre that might be the case." Rousel's voice came in from somewhere. "Do you think most of the trouble has blown over?"
I doubted that, but now was not the time to voice such doubts. "I don't know, not for certain, but from what I've seen in the news the last few days, I can't see what good anyone would get from further attacks."
"You need to get in touch with Larry Asnart." Rousel moved beside Charis. "He's the advocate guardian. We'll stay here until everything's settled. There should be a message on your system. If not, let me know."
"I'm glad you're well again, Uncle Jonat," Charis interjected firmly. "You're supposed to come and live with us."
"I know, Charis. I have to talk to the advocate first, though."
"You'll talk to him soon?"
"I will. You take care."
After I broke the link, I just stood there for a moment. I'd hoped that life would get easier, but I had no doubts that it was just getting more complicated.
I went through the messages until I found the information on Larry Asnart. He was out, but I left a link message. Then I turned back to Paula.
"What do you suggest?"
"Act as though nothing has happened. Shortly, you will receive some information in your personal secure links."
"You think I need to act, still? I've arranged for you..."
"You have children to think of, now, Dr. deVrai."
I sighed. "You're right, but please call me Jonat, at least when you're Paula, or present in Paula..." That wasn't right, either, and I shook my head. "You're telling me, directly, that there's a chance I'm still in danger."
"You should review the information, and then decide."
I didn't like either the words or the firmness of her tone. "And you? What will you do now?"
"What you suggested." She smiled. "Charles will be on call. If you need him, his cover will be that of a bodyguard. You are not likely to see this face again."
I winced. I liked her face.
"Thank you."
I walked her to the door.
There, she looked at me. "You should leave the link on. You can notify Central Four at any time."
"I will." At least, until I knew far better how things stood.
"And it might be better to refrain from running the greenbelt for now. You do have equipment in your exercise room."
I did. I just hated using it. I much preferred running in the open air, but what she said made too much sense.
I finally opened the door, and she was gone. I watched until the white electral vanished. Then I closed the door, checked the locks, and headed back to the office. I had more than a little catching up to do, but how effective I'd be with Christmas less than a week away was another question.
Chapter 55
The remainder of Tuesday was a rush, and then some. Asnart got back to me by ten o'clock and sent me the forms and custody agreement. It was the kind that I had to agree to as well, but there was nothing in it that was particularly onerous. I could even live with the provision that I was expected to take the children to the Unity Church "regularly." I was to live in the house, in loco parenti, and to provide separate accounting for any business expenses, but my "reasonable" personal expenses were to be covered by the rather extensive trust fund. I was to be free to marry or take a permanent companion, but multiple short-term liaisons were not in the interests of the children, and, for those reasons, the living expenses of any companion were not to come from the trust fund until either I married or until the relationship had lasted monogamously for over one year.
Asnart thought that was very liberal of Dierk and Aliora. I didn't comment. Aliora had always wanted me to find someone and to be happy with whoever she was. The particular wording of the clause was another confirmation of that. Aliora had wanted to give me as much leeway as legally possible. After consulting with Deidre and Rousel, we agreed that I would move in with the children on Friday, and all eight of us would spend time on Christmas Eve and Christmas day together.
Both Rousel and Deidre seemed relieved that I was back, and neither asked questions. Just from their reactions, I could see that I was going to have my hands full.
Then I linked Reya. She was in, and promptly dumped another assignment on me. Methroy was out, as was Bruce Fuller. There was no reason to contact Tan Uy-Smythe or Eric Wong, and Miguel Elisar's message had just stated that Vorhees and Rees and Prius had reached a settlement, and that the legal action had been dropped. He also indicated that Prius had sent a payment for ten hours for my willingness to testify.
I snorted. I'd take the credits, but they were nothing compared to what it could have cost me. Then, I frowned.
Paula ... Central Four?
Yes, Dr. deVrai.
Do I need to pay someone for the medical care?
I got a definite sense of a laugh. That is not necessary. In fact, that would make matters very difficult. Central Four has a budget for cydroid medical care. There has been some question in the past that it has not been utilized. The increased usage will make everyone happier.
Because they want to know that cydroids aren't invulnerable?
That is the most probable surmise.
And no one even looks into your medical facilities?
Why should they? No one cares about cydroids operated
by an intelligence system. Or the quality of medical care they receive.
The tone was level, but there was a bitterness behind it, and I didn't think I was projecting my own feelings. I'll be happier when we get the equipment. I paused. You had said I would be getting some information so that I can deal with whoever caused all the problems.
You already have it. It's the transmission from J. Bond, ornithologist.
There had to be some meaning behind that, but whatever it was, I'd missed it.
The name seemed appropriate, Central Four added.
It's beyond me. I checked the transmission. It was there. I called it up. Thank you.
It should be clear. If not, please request clarifications.
I will.
Then I began to read.
The first section was simply a series of organization charts. Certain names were highlighted in each chart. After three pages I realized what I was reading. The charts showed the operations or information divisions— or both—of some of the most powerful multis on earth, mostly headquartered in NorAm, but not totally. I surmised that the highlighted names, generally the director of the division, but sometimes the assistant, meant something.
The second section made the meaning somewhat clearer, because section two gave the names of the directorates of four organizations: the Pan-Social Trust or PST; the Centre for Sociology; the Alliance for Space Research; and, of course, the Centre for Societal Research. The PST was vaguely familiar, since I recalled that it was one of the supporters of the Centre for Societal Research.
I went back and began to compare names. While a highlighted name appeared only in the structure of one multi, every one of those names appeared on at least one board of the four organizations, and usually on two. Several appeared on three. The most common names were Tarn Lin Deng, the director general of Industrial Security Systems, Stacia Mydra of Sante, Grantham Escher of MultiLateral Armaments, Jacques Alistar of NEN, and Daria Ghamel of AVia.
Section three just listed the objectives of each organization.
Section four listed a time line, arranged in columns. The first column was a series of events, including the attacks on Everett Forster and on me, and several other deaths of individuals. The second column was a loose description of the individual and something about each one. The third column listed political acts, regulations, legislation. The fourth column listed the multi that benefited from those acts.
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