The Hunt for Pierre Jnr

by David M Henley

  ‘And do you know about the movement following Pierre Jnr?’

  ‘No. My access to the Weave is limited.’

  ‘Let me show you.’ He fed Pete’s symbiot with images and footage that the psi then overlaid on his vision. He showed him the offerings that were being placed at the site of the manifestation, and people praying to images of Pierre Jnr. He shared a poster image that was being swapped around: a photo of Pierre Jnr as a newborn that must have escaped the walls of the PDP archive. It had been reconstituted with the heartwarming glow and symbols of religious iconography.

  ‘How much of this is taking place?’ Pete asked.

  ‘It is only a small sect. Only a few hundred people.’

  ‘Can’t you stop it?’

  ‘That is not the way of the World Union, Mister Lazarus. People are allowed to express how they feel. You are one of the few who have met him. Do you think he is a god?’

  ‘No. He is powerful. But he is no god.’

  ‘He has followers, and his followers are building an army.’

  ‘For what purpose?’ Pete asked.

  ‘There is only one purpose I know of for an army.’

  ‘I mean, what will they do? Who will they attack? You?’

  ‘That would be logical. Me and anyone who is actively opposing them.’

  ‘But where does it stop?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Peter. But I cannot see into the future. I presume you cannot either.’ Lazarus shook his head. ‘Do you see now why I have been paying such close attention to you?’

  ‘To fight fire with fire?’

  ‘Not exactly. I need more from you than that. I need you to help me stop this war before it can begin.’

  ‘How?’ Pete asked.

  ‘In conflict, if you react to your opponent’s actions, it means they are in control. They strike, you strike back. If they strike and you retaliate, then they have provoked your action. Countering is not the same as reacting. Respond. Never react. Only choose the action that will achieve the result you desire.’

  ‘Meaning we do what?’

  ‘It means we will take the battle to them. We know where the fugitives are hiding.’

  ‘And you want me to help capture them?’

  ‘The word we use is “collect”, Peter. We collect them and put them in a nicer place.’

  ‘A place they can never leave.’

  ‘As is the Will. There are worse solutions.’

  ‘And what about Pierre?’

  ‘Until we find out where he is hiding, our best course of action is to prepare.’

  Pete pondered this for a time. In his rooms Ryu finished his brushing and began rubbing dry shampoo into his hair, rolling the long strands between his palms until the powder disappeared. The script Takashi had generated for this conversation was hardly deviating at all.

  ‘You’re right. I hate that you’re right,’ Pete said. ‘If there is an army of psis ready to fight alongside Pierre, then we need to be ready to fight back.’

  ‘Are you telling me this to please me?’ Ryu asked.

  ‘I know I will never earn your trust, but I have to pick a side, and the side I am on, and have always been on, is that one person shall not have dominion over another.’

  ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’

  ‘May I ask you a question?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Ryu granted.

  ‘How could I ever be ready for Pierre Jnr? He is much more powerful than I. You must realise this, so you must have a plan.’

  ‘Of course. You are just one of many contingencies being co-ordinated. I hope that comforts you.’ He told Gock to smile.

  Lazarus nodded almost imperceptibly, though it was huge on Ryu’s screens.

  ‘Can you help me learn?’

  The Prime watched him. Made him wait for the next words. He was in control here.

  ‘I can only challenge you and prompt you to become more fluent.’

  ‘But you hate psis. Why help train one?’

  ‘I do what needs to be done. You are the lesser of two evils.’

  ‘I guess that is the best I can hope for.’

  ‘For the record, I do not hate psionics. I am merely an agent of the Will. Our society is not capable of coping with such a drastic change to the status quo.’ Ryu watched his toy for a moment. ‘I would like you to consider something for me.’ He paused for Peter to become curious enough to listen closely. ‘There is a fear I have that once people have been in contact with Pierre Jnr, that even after contact is broken, his influence remains. Have you considered this?’

  ‘I’ve seen it. We saw it at the farm a few weeks ago, and I saw it in my sister.’

  ‘Again, we have no record of a second child born to your parents.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  Ryu ignored the question and moved on. ‘I am also of the understanding that even before you confronted Pierre Jnr under the Dome, you reported some memory loss. Or rather, it was reported about you. Do you feel that to be true?’

  ‘Is this really you, Ryu Shima? These questions do not sound like you.’

  ‘How do they sound?’

  ‘Almost gentle.’

  ‘There is something I want from you, and I have determined that this approach is the best way to get it.’ He didn’t say that it was thanks to one of Takashi’s simulations that he had found the best strategy.

  ‘Your kindness is appreciated.’

  ‘Have you ever thought that the manifestation was not your first contact with Pierre Jnr? That perhaps you encountered him some time ago?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? It is not possible? Or, no, you have not considered it?’ Gock resisted an urge to smile at Pete’s discomfort. ‘Perhaps you had no sister and it was you that sought out Pierre Jnr, as many escaped psis do. Looking for their saviour. Perhaps you found him and he did to you what you believe he did to her.’

  ‘What? And then sent me to Services to volunteer to hunt him down?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If only I knew. But the possibility worries me.’

  The elevator doors opened and the entire ten squad entered the main room, followed by Risom, Arthur and the twinbots. With Pete, their count was fifteen. With Gock, fifteen and a half.

  ‘Where are we going that we’ll need an entourage like this?’ Pete asked, the answer flashing into the minds of everyone in the room at once. Of course, the answer was so obvious he should have guessed.

  ‘You should say goodbye to Nurse Anchali. You leave for the Cape within the hour.’

  When he clicked off, he watched Pete’s reaction and didn’t notice his brother waiting for him at the doorway.

  ‘That was curious, Ryu san. Why’d you do that to him?’ Takashi asked.

  ‘I merely discussed with him a possibility he might not have thought of.’

  ‘But why give the information away?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Ryu exploded with frustration. ‘Takashi, do you realise that it has been over a month since the manifestation and we still don’t know who or what caused it?’

  ‘In my defence, I did know that,’ Takashi replied, but Ryu was talking over him already.

  ‘You ask me why I contributed to Peter Lazarus’s paranoid condition? I did it because I need to know where it ends.’

  ‘Where what ends?’

  ‘Pierre’s influence. We have to assume that Lazarus’s contact with Pierre has left him reprogrammed, but the question is: does it spread? Is it contagious?’

  ‘Brother, you’ve gone insane.’

  ‘Have I? If we acknowledge the existence of psionic powers, mind control, then we have to acknowledge the next logical step. It would be like a more potent form of brainwashing, and if it was done to one person with telepathy, why wouldn’t it spread? You have to acknowledge the possibility, despite the improbability.’

  ‘Are you suggesting a sort
of mental contagion rather than a cultural virus?’

  ‘It may be unlikely. Ozenbach’s analysis implies it would have either happened already, or it wasn’t going to.’

  ‘But why did you want Lazarus to fear it?’

  ‘For two reasons: one is that, if it is possible, he might be able to help prove it. But, more to the point, Takashi, if you want to train an animal, first you must break its spirit.’

  ‘And then what will you do?’

  ‘Then you train the animal to react how you want it to. Apply stimuli, apply reward or punishment. It is basic conditioning.’

  ‘Ryu san, I am glad you have never put your attentions upon me.’

  Ryu laughed out loud. Takashi always had a knack for making him laugh. ‘Tell me, Takashi, the simulation you have of me. How good is it?’

  ~ * ~

  A small boy sat patiently in a chair before a glowing terminal. He was facing into the aisle of cubicles where men and women of all ages had their backs turned, hunching and leaning forward, intent behind their goggles.

  This café boasted the most comfortable set-up for long uninterrupted immersions. People sat in their chairs for hours, completely indrawn. Servitors worked their way around the room, delivering drinks, nibbles and the occasional hot towel wash.

  The most serious divers in the room wore ganzfeld suits, thick hoods and bodysuits that shielded their senses from outside stimulation, so as not to distract them in their immersions. They moved the least of all the weavers in the room, neither scratching nor sucking on straws, just held upright with seat belts across their chests, drip tubes into their necks and servitors keeping the corners of their mouths dry.

  The thoughts in this room were like a waterfall. Thousands of drops a second, making up the stream they created in the virtual space. Pierre had no need to plug in himself. He was connected to a roomful of people who were.

  ~ * ~

  Pete woke in the air. The jet would only take an hour longer to arrive and he used the time to sieve information from the squad’s minds. As always, he used conversation to focus their minds to what he was interested in learning.

  ‘Ten?’

  ‘Yes, Peter Lazarus?’

  ‘Have you been to the Cape before?’

  He was surprised by the memories the question triggered amongst the soldiers. Atlantic was where muscle like these went to play. The town had no law, not like in the WU. Every now and then, when on leave, they stayed together in their pack and went spoiling for an opportunity to inflict justice. They went to serve and protect the denizens of the Cape, like avenging angels who then enjoyed reaping rewards for their deeds.

  Pete remembered spending time there too, though only fragments, mostly empty hotel rooms ... Shima was right. If he didn’t remember the years before the hunt began, what could he trust of what he did recall?

  As far as the Weave went, Atlantic was one of the most consolidated areas of grey patches. It was the obvious place to hide if you were a psi. The lack of Services monitoring made it an attractive part of the world and he had spent much time there.

  He found himself muttering out loud, ‘As they say in the Cape, no one cares if you scream.’

  ‘Ha!’ Ten barked in amusement. ‘Except when Services is in town.’

  ~ * ~

  Atlantic really was a city of brights and darks. Many areas were unlit at night, creating dark patches between streets that were a tumble of colour, each trying to outshine the others with light projections, multi-hued paving, hanging lights and fire.

  The WU had two identical embassies in the Cape, one in the south, the other in the north where the team was heading. Services had established a square kilometre of order. Regular white street lighting lined up over grey poly-paved streets. The compound itself was a sand-coloured fort with a fifty-metre killing field on all sides. Peter wished the soldiers didn’t think of every open space as a killing field.

  The embassy was of military design: an external wall with the main building running along the inside and a large internal courtyard for protected landing and takeoff. Geometrically it was a perfect cube, though a third of it was unseen below the ground level.

  The transport landed and Pete, the ten, Gock, Arthur and Risom had enough time to drop their kits before their first appointment. Pete and Arthur were able to maintain a link even though their rooms were on opposite sides of the compound, but Risom was just out of his reach.

  Arthur, have you been here before?

  Many times.

  What do you think?

  I prefer the forest.

  Why do you think we are here?

  The same reason you do. This is the obvious place to hide. Here is where the Prime has determined the front line to be.

  Risom seems happy.

  His ego looks forward to proving itself.

  I’m sorry I got you into this.

  Don’t be. I understand the coercion that controls you. And, to be honest, even though this euphoria of mine is artificial, it is still much nicer than before.

  Betraying one’s own has its rewards.

  Now you’re thinking like Risom.

  They gathered back in the courtyard. The only team members missing were the twins, whose real bodies were stationed in the southern embassy, to keep them away from the psis. Their bots would join the ten as shadow for the agents.

  ‘What’s the command, Ten?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Peter Lazarus, we are on field protocols now. You will speak when told to do so. Is that clear?’

  ‘Clear, sir.’

  ‘That goes for everyone, including you, Gock. If any of you fall out of line, I am authorised to take disciplinary action. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they answered.

  ‘I am aware that none of you, barring Risom here, has had a Services upbringing, but that will not be considered an excuse. The Cape area is not like other parts of the world. There is no WU and the only Services to help you are here, and one hundred klicks south and west. Your symbs have been loaded up with situational strategies should the team become separated or attacked. You will be on constant ping so Services know where you are at all times. If you need help, they will respond.

  ‘You may have heard that the Cape is a wild and uncivilised society, and that there is no law. But that is not true. Here we work by the law of the jungle. Our best defence is to make sure that your shadow is seen and your bark is heard. The squad and the twins will be in plain sight. Make sure there is a squad member in front of you and one behind at all times. Do not proceed without an escort. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Okay then. Squad, power up. We are heading east. The command will be delivered en route.’

  They piled into two open-topped hovers and eased out into the killing field, laser portcullis flashing on and off to let them through.

  It was past midnight. Pete wondered who they could be going to see.

  Atlantic is more active at night, Pete.

  As they were leaving the Services zone, one of the streetlights overhead exploded. They didn’t stop, but Pete and Arthur turned to look back at the second car. Risom was grinning.

  Just practising my aim.

  ~ * ~

  Nothing could prepare Pete for the sights and sounds of Atlantic street life. The first lit street they went through was almost blinding after the dark of its surrounds. Every building had attempted to be unique with its light show, using colour, movement, pulsation and saturation as originally as they could. Many people in the Cape lived in garish hotels rather than keeping their own homes, and spent their leisure time gaming or exploring their mind state.

  The other thing that was easily observed about the Cape was that people were more obviously cybernetic. With the casual attitude to violence, it was common to see a replaced finger, or patent skin graft. They were open to it. Many of the locals couldn’t afford perfect cosmetic installations, so alteration had becom
e accepted and even a little fashionable.

  Adolescents confused the streets, standing in chittering blocks, dressed in the latest fashions of pragnancz patterns and geometric hats. Freaking and cyberism were popular, each trying to be weirder than the next. Many were ready for violence with taloned nails, or fangs, or, for the cybers, blades and saws that rose from their arms and hands. It was also an opportunity for toughs to rig their add-ons with snitch blades and barbs. Pete could tell that many of them had found an excuse to use them.