It began innocuously enough, the first few questions were directed towards the Director; some of the journalists were well placed enough to use his first name. They were all Oligarchs together.
The Director discussed what Helena had done in the type of vague terms she recognised as the corporate speak used when message was more important than detail.
Then Jackson Priestly, a staffer with the Times, spoke directly to Helena. “Is there any truth to the rumours that you were tortured when caught by Indexiv?”
It took Helena a moment to realise he was speaking to her; she had drifted off, thinking about Edward, Johannes and Ngasi. She must have looked vaguely bewildered, because Rupert said her name leadingly, trying to give her room to respond.
How did they know?
A voice came through her uplink, “Answer – tell them about the torture, don’t leave anything out.”
She swallowed; the articulation of suffering was suddenly more difficult now it was her own. Ironically, she found it hard to find the words to say. She was a diplomat and expected more.
She told them about waking in the cell, about the use of her own nanomachines to inflict pain and misery. As she spoke the room was silent; even the gentle chattering of people waiting for the next question ceased. Around the world thirty million people watched Lady Woolf describe the horror of war as it was visited on an immortal. She had no idea what affect her words were having, but hoped it would sober her people up. Nothing like this had ever been heard in public before. Her Primary AI relayed to her a number of facial expressions of those in the audience.
They do not believe you.
She ignored it. Then the voice of her media assistant came through her uplink.
“Don’t overdo it. We’re all impressed, but don’t make it untenable.”
Helena didn’t falter, but her confidence drained away as she spoke. Her language drifted; she discussed the flight across Southern Africa, after the sinking of the Amazon Fell.
“Excellent, now bring it to a close,” said her advisor.
Helena finished by returning to the Cargo Carrier Indexiv had been using.
“I wasn’t the only one they captured,” she said in conclusion.
A number of people had drifted when she backed away from her more explicit descriptions of torture, but their heads jerked towards her now.
The Director was looking at her distractedly. Her media contact was silent.
Someone spoke up, “Lady Woolf, could you elaborate for us? Are you saying Indexiv has been killing other Corporate Executives?”
She paused, waiting for advice. None came so she responded without any diplomacy at all. “No.” There were sighs of relief from those around her.
“So what are you saying?” persisted the questioner.
“Indexiv were systematically–” she was interrupted by her advisor telling her to shut up, “rounding up Normals,” at this point the Director stood, Rupert folded his arms and watched the crowd. “And slaughtering them like cattle.”
The Director looked irritated at her amateurishness.
An older looking man near the front raised his hand. Rupert nodded.
“Rupert, would Euros care to comment on the retrieved technology?” The audience turned away from Helena towards Rupert.
Rupert leant forward and put a hand on George’s arm, motioning him to sit while answering quite calmly.
“Peter, thank you. As you know, we have no comment to make on the technology itself, but suffice to say, it is now safe.”
“Yes, but what difference does it make to the war effort?” asked Peter.
“It is an experimental application which we believe can secure our advantage. You know I’m not going to say more than that. It was its significance which forced us to ask Lady Woolf to retrieve it for us in the first place.”
The subject was changed. No one remembered what she had said. The death of Normals was not news to the Oligarchs in the room, it only remained on the airwaves for the time it took her to say the words.
By the second edition of the news, she would be cut, no longer a story.
They think you’re mentally incompetent, said her AI. They don’t believe you.
Helena sat in silence for the rest of the conference. No further questions were directed towards her, as if everyone one in the room had concluded that she had nothing worthy to say.
It’s worse than that, said her AI as she tried to think why they had rolled over her story so quickly. They think you’ve gone native. Adam didn’t believe you, there’s no evidence, only you, only your actions which have been neatly reworked for Euros’ advantage.
Silence came through her uplink.
I’m not your enemy, Helena, said her AI gently.
The press briefing lasted another twenty minutes. Nobody even glanced in her direction. Rupert and the Director smoothly led the press through their version of the conflict and were obliged for their efforts by accepting an agreeable tranche of queries.
When it was finally over, she was ushered from the room along with the Director, back to his entourage. They were greeted with the news of a share price rise, that Helena’s speech had not damaged investors’ assessment of Euros’ future prospects. Indexiv had refused to comment on their claims.
The Director’s personal assistant mentioned that, according to latest polls, the public believed Helena to be a hero. The tragedy of her obvious mental trauma, resulting from torture, only added to Euros’ approval ratings.
Helena wanted to say something; to ensure her voice was heard; she tried to approach the Director.
“George,” she began. There was a cold hush.
He turned to look at her, his eyes cool and sharp. “You will refer to the Director by his proper title Miss Woolf,” said his assistant.
“The Director would like to thank you for your cooperation, your contribution to our successful resolution of the conflict has been noted and you will receive a bonus commensurate with your efforts.”
The Director walked away.
When he had gone, Helena was left with two junior officers, both her subordinates. They looked like twins. They might have been clones, but she didn’t have the energy to taste their scents to see if they were genetically identical.
“Lady Woolf,” said the one to her right. “If you come with us we will escort you to lunch.”
The other picked up where the first left off. “We have pastries, chocolates, and fried potatoes, haunch of lamb, whole stuffed ducks, figs and avocado.” He halted his enthusiastically lush list at a hiss from his compatriot.
“After you have refreshed yourself perhaps you would appreciate meeting with your uncle, we understand that there are a number of facts the strategy division wish to clarify.”
I bet, thought Helena.
“He will call us when you have concluded business and we will then return you to your London home. Your new duties will not commence until the beginning of next week.”
Their voices were lightly nasal, as if they had been fine tuned to approach an indifferent sincerity.
“What new duties?” asked Helena.
“In light of your accomplishments in the Southern African Economic Zone, you have been offered a position within the intra-divisional special situations department, here in London.”
She frowned. Sensing her uncertainty, they continued.
“Your Uncle will brief you.”
That clears that up then, said her AI.
“Oh,” said Helena.
The one on her left smiled, “We believe you will find it a most rewarding position, and your energy wage will be a significant improvement on your current remuneration. When you are ready, we suggest you take a medical assessment, for long term damage and recuperation.”
The eyed one another, clearly of the opinion that her damage did not need assessing medically. With this they led her away from the press room and across the city to lunch and her waiting Uncle.
“AH, HELENA!” said
her Uncle expansively, when she was finally delivered to his office on the seven hundred and seventy third floor of the Euros spire at the Trade Centre.
“Johannes,” said Helena flatly. Her only urge, right then, was to pin him through the heart until he stopped squirming.
He held up his hands in submission, as if reading her mind. “I know you’re angry. I can only say that I’m sorry. I had to do what I felt was right at the time. I’m sure you understand given your recent experiences. Circumstances dictate decisions more often than not.”
Helena said nothing, but sunk wearily into the chair he offered her. He pulled up a low-slung recliner from across the office and fell into it. “Good work on finding Edward. I knew you’d manage it.” He sighed. “Like I said already, I’m just sorry it took that scene to unmask Oliver’s duplicity.”
He lowered his voice. “Adam doesn’t know anything; please don’t mention what actually happened to Oliver.”
“What did happen to Oliver?” asked Helena blandly.
Johannes rubbed the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb. “He was part of some Normal organisation who are trying to access our technologies without license.” He half chuckled to himself, “It’s like they’ve got some reason they’re willing to risk everything for. Somehow, they got wind of the boy and thought they had the means to secure him for themselves. When Oliver saw me trying to take charge of the package you’d been sent he thought he’d spotted a chance for securing its contents for their cause.”
“I don’t mean to be pedantic Johannes, but if he hadn’t of interfered you may well have attempted to take the package from me by force,” said Helena. She did not wish to be reminded of Oliver’s body in her uncle’s arms, any more than she wished to think of Africa.
Johannes snorted but didn’t immediately respond,
“Just how many people did you kill Helena?” said Johannes, eventually.
You cheap bastard, she thought.
“Helena, the package you received was stolen, sent to you by a mole within Euros. I have an idea of who but we haven’t been able to prove anything. Not yet. Whoever sent that to you either knew of the group Oliver was a part of, or sympathised enough to use you as their pawn. Despite my misgivings, my unwillingness to believe you’d ever betray us, the evidence before my eyes seemed to point incontrovertibly the other way.”
“Indeed, from my point of view as well,” said Helena. “Since when I reached the boy your preprepared message popped up.”
“Ha!” said Johannes. “You see, that’s why they want you on this.”
Helena closed her eyes for a moment. “You keep alluding to a wider group Johannes, even your message on the datastore assumed I would be the one to retrieve Edward. What are you talking about?”
“Despite my plans our AI had recommended you be the one to retrieve the boy.” He shook his head before continuing. “Enough of the past Helena. The directors have assigned you to hunt down the others,” said Johannes, his eyes glowing with self-satisfaction.
“Go on,” said Helena, beginning to understand.
“Edward was not alone, but one of a number of operatives who’ve gone AWOL. We want to locate them before Indexiv does. Helena, I can’t stress this too much: Indexiv are working towards a genocide, of sorts. Euros cannot stop them. We were caught in a totally unmilitarised state by their pre-emptive action.”
“So why the denial?” asked Helena, her voice rising, “Why the humiliation in front of everyone?” She was still tired and could feel her self-control slipping.
“Calm down you stupid girl,” said her Uncle, without a trace of emotion. “How do you think Europe would react if our Normals suddenly discovered that one of the big Five was looking to kill every single one of them? It would be pandemonium. We are keeping a total lock down on that information until such time as we believe we have a chance of defeating Indexiv. The people Oliver was with already suspected Indexiv’s strategy.”
Helena sat back; it was too much to take in, too grey.
“What will you do?” she asked.
Johannes looked surprised, “I won’t do anything. Others are looking after that.” He looked directly at Helena and rubbed his chin. “We have an idea about finding who they are, who is backing them, what they think they’re achieving. However, that will take some time to bear fruit, so in the meantime we concentrate on Indexiv.”
“What do you want from me?” asked Helena.
“You’re being assigned to a very small team from Monday. They’ll be working with you; your brief is to find the other operatives. It’s special situations Helena, each of the people you’ll be working with is exceptional, even for Oligarchs. They each have their own goals. You’ll report up the same line, but with the exception of a small amount of inevitable overlap, you all have your own assignments, the key things uniting you are the nature of these goals. Euros isn’t security tight right now, so the team will be permitted, if not forced, to work outside of the Company’s standard information protocols. Indeed, I suspect you’ll only alert their sympathisers if you dig around too much in-house.
“If we can find these operatives and the technology they’ve stolen from us, at this, the worst of moments, we can prevent Indexiv from taking us over, and if we can do that we can go public with their program of slaughter.”
Helena felt buoyed by her Uncle’s candour. It helped undo the damage she’d inflicted on herself at the press conference.
“Indexiv have the right rationale, but the wrong strategy,” said Johannes. “The Normal problem has to be dealt with in another way if we’re to survive.”
Helena nodded, dumbly, feeling all he’d just given her sliding away.
Ten thousand dead bodies? asked her AI sharply.
Not now. I’m too tired for this, she responded.
IT WAS ONLY after food and three days of unbroken sleep that she thought to ask about Edward and Denholme.
A chance remark by her medical examiner pulled them back to her mind. Helena had spent most of her waking time brooding on her performance at the press conference. She knew exactly why no one had been interested, but she was still trying to come to terms with the fact that knowing it had happened and being there were very different things. Ngasi strode her dreams in silence, an accusing shade she couldn’t shake.
She had been ignored by the Euros hierarchy in the days following her return. Their interest had been limited to two messages: one from her old boss wishing her well in her new role, and one from her new division, welcoming her on board.
She felt deeply wounded by her old team’s ejection of her without so much as a proper goodbye. She’d not received a single personal message. She’d been there more than a decade.
Her self-absorption lasted until the moment the medical examiner gasped right in her ear. The examiner, a feline-faced Oligarch from Prague, composed herself and left the room almost immediately.
Her AI was muted, doing its best to hide in the backwaters of her mind. They had barely talked since she’d fully recovered, each time its tried to speak Helena had cut it off. She’d assumed it would be removed and she’d done her very best to avoid engaging it in any way now she was back on London living what resembled a normal life. However, the gasp from the examiner sent an ominous shiver though her.
The examiner returned, Helena was pacing the room like a trapped animal. In her mind, she could see Denholme doing the same in his own debriefing room and she realised that she felt closer to him then than she had done throughout their ordeal.
“Ms. Woolf,” said the examiner. “My cursory examination suggests your primary AI is severely corrupted. To know for sure the extent of its breakdown we will need to perform a deep scan of your brain.” She hesitated.
“I don’t understand,” said Helena. “Are you saying I am close to being sectioned?”
The examiner smiled wanly, “Ms. Woolf, it is clear you have, technically at least, crossed that threshold by some margin. To be honest, it is only because you ap
pear to be in control of your personality that we haven’t already asked your family to collect you.”
Helena held her breath.
The examiner gave her a fierce look, clearly unhappy with the situation. “We’re not sure how to proceed. You are considered valuable to Euros, hence sectioning is not available to us.” She pursed her lips, resigned. “Right now you appear to be functioning satisfactorily but we will need to run more tests.”
Helena realised she was being asked her permission. Her AI hummed in the background. I’m not doing this for you, she said. I’m doing what I need to so that I don’t get locked up for the rest of my life.
To the examiner she said, “I’m quite myself thank you. Should there be any changes I will come back to you, but right now I have a job to do.”
The examiner looked disappointed, as she would if a child had decided they didn’t want to study for their exams. “I’d like to ensure you understand the risks Ms. Woolf.”
Helena shook her head. “I’m quite informed,” she said. “Regardless, I am not an experiment to be monitored and explored. As I have informed you, should I feel any worse I will let you know.”
Shaking her head, the examiner said, “I’m sorry to hear that. Not everyone gets to feel worse before their personality disintegrates completely. Please watch out for the following symptoms. If you experience more than two of them, come back as soon as possible.” Helena waited for the list.
“The AI talking in the first person singular, taking control of your actions, taking initiative, expressing opinions and refusing commands.” She then ran through physical symptoms such as blindness, auras, headaches, dizziness and numbness in her extremities. Once she was done she paused before saying, “Could I ask you one question?”
“Of course,” said Helena.
“Does it feel like a real person?” she was suddenly breathless.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Helena quietly, levelling her gaze at the other woman. The examiner looked away and asked nothing more.
AS SOON AS she could get hold of Johannes, she asked about Denholme.
“Denholme will be retrained,” came the answer to her second question, and she guessed that it was now too late to influence the consequences of his actions. “In answer to your first question, I’m very sorry to say it but Edward is dead.”
A Family War: The Oligarchy - Book 1 Page 21
