Find Your Own Truth

by Robert N. Charrette

  “You sound like Mother.”

  The past was haunting her enough in her dreams. She didn’t need him bringing old memories into her waking life. The dreams were fall of tragedies enough. “Yeah, well. But you can’t say 1 look like her anymore.”

  He looked abashed, as though realizing how his offhanded comment had hurt her. Let him be embarrassed; she didn’t want his or anyone’s pity. “I suppose you’ve been busy working on that.-’

  “Yes, but . .

  “But it’s hopeless." she finished for him. She had known it would be. His quest to Denver had just been time wasted. She was what she was; there was no way to change it.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” He sounded annoyed. “I don’t think it’s hopeless, but it’s not going to be soon.”

  So he wanted her to continue trying to ignore the hunger. Didn’t he know how hard that was? “What do you think I am? A saint?”

  “No, I know you’re just human.”

  She laughed bitterly at that.

  “No matter what you look like, you re still human. That’s why you’re still trying to beat the wendigo nature. You know what being a wendigo means, and you know it’s wrong.”

  So what if she did? She was a wendigo now. The wendigo nature was her nature, even if she hadn’t yet surrendered to her craving. “Who says I even want to change now?”

  “You do. You shout it every day you live without killing and eating anyone.”

  “What about the dzoo? Doesn’t it count?”

  He looked sad. “God forgives the repentant.”

  “He tasted good ” She said it to annoy him. but it was also the truth. The dzoo had tasted good, much better than the stuff Ghost brought her. She turned away, shivering. Whether the memory-borne chill was one of delight or horror, she wasn’t sure. He noticed her reaction.

  “See. You’re not resigned to the inevitable. That means you still have hope, and that will be your salvation.” He moved around in front of her. “I know about the food Ghost had been hunting for you. I’ve already talked with him. You’ll only have to put up with it a while longer.”

  “Yeah, well. Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. You telling me that you’re ready to try again?”

  He hesitated. “Well, I was hoping to, but something has come up. Something very important.” In a jumbled rush, he told her about Spider and what he had learned of her plans. After sketching a bare outline of the facts, he took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, Janice. I hope you’ll understand that: this is more important than any one person.”

  Something was always more important. “So much for your claims of love.”

  “I know how it must sound. I wish there were another way, but I don’t see one. There just isn’t time to take care of you first. There’s too much at stake.”

  “Yeah, right. Who cares about one soul when the world’s in danger?”

  “That’s not fair. Or true, either. It’s just the despair of the wendigo talking. If you don’t want to accept that an obligation to mankind is involved, look to your totem. Wolf is a pack animal. What’s a pack but an extended family, and a family has to take care of its own. I have to do this thing. You’re part of the family, too.”

  His indignation made her mad. She growled. “So take care of your own. You’re the one who insists that we’re still family.”

  “And we are family." he said firmly. “But we’re part of a bigger family." he went on, more softly now. “I can’t let the whole family die so that one member can live.”

  The good of the many. How often had she heard that? Well, she didn’t want to hear it. The many hadn’t given a thought to her, and she intended to return the favor. She wanted to worry about herself. Waving her arm in dismissal, she said, “So go ahead and do what you want to do. You don’t need my permission. I might even be here when you’re done.”

  He refused to go. “It’s not what I want to do; it’s what I need to do, what has to be done. And it’s not your permission I want, but your help.” He said more, pointing out the awful consequences of Spider’s plot. From what Sam was telling her, the results might be almost as bad if other unspecified but ambitious parties were able to gain what Spider sought.

  Surprising herself, she listened.

  * * *

  Awaken.

  Aleph’s nudge brought her to instant awareness: she had a visitor. Her ally spirit’s astral watch made a perfect complement to the electronic security measures incorporated into the townhouse walls. She readied a spell but, before she could shift perceptions, the ghostly image of Sam materialized outside the second-story window of the bedroom. Then it walked through wall, sill, and transparex to stand grinning at her. Obviously, he had gotten the note telling him where to contact her.

  She smiled back. “Nice to see you, lover. It’s been a long time.”

  “Worried, dear Hart?”

  “Me? I never worry. But I’m really glad to see you survived. And strong enough to do a distance projection. Been practicing, have we? Wish we could touch.” He mimed a hug. “Best I can do. Magic doesn’t make all wishes come true.”

  “Only in fantasy. Speaking of which, I’ve had a few good ones recently. How about you?”

  “I fear my dreams have been all business.”

  “Comes with the trade, oh mighty shaman. How’s the hunt going?”

  His expression darkened, clouded by a complex of emotions that she couldn’t read. His voice lost its bantering lightness. “One’s over. Another’s about to begin. But you should know, you’re already on the scent.”

  He had to mean something else; he seemed too jovial to have found out about her connections. She hung her head and held it, hands covering her surprised expression. She hoped she was doing a credible imitation of someone still groggy from sleep. “Hey, I just woke up. Can we save the mysterious for after my first cup of kaf?”

  “Sorry." he said with an apologetic grin. “I meant you’re already near the Deggendorf cache, of course. It’s the highest-probability target for Spider, and with you already there, we’ll get a jump on Urdli.”

  “Whoa, Sam. It sounds like a lot has turned up since I left for the continent. Let’s take it from the top.” He did, jumbling his meetings with Howling Coyote, Dog, and the Australian elf Urdli all together. With amazement, Hart realized that what she’d thought was a more personal level of business was turning out to be an international conspiracy. She hated it when the big boys decided to throw their weight around. Sam was right; if the Tir or the Australian elf were left to clean up the mess alone, there would be trouble. God forbid if the Irish Shidhe or some fire-breathing corporate types got wind of it. Quick, clean, and as quiet as possible was the only way to go. “I’ll get Jenny running yesterday. We’ll need any data we can get. Dodger could help.”

  Sam frowned, and she felt distress mixed with his frustration. “If I knew how to contact him, I’d ask. He hasn’t been at any of his usual places, not even the fallbacks we’d arranged. Ghost’s people have checked. If he hadn’t added that note to his last data dump, I’d be really worried. I wish you hadn’t left him, Hart.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but that won’t turn him up. If you can’t find him in the real world, try the Matrix.”

  “Got a reason?”

  “A hunch. I can have Jenny check, if you want.”

  “No." he responded quickly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Going to be a busy boy.”

  “I’ll manage. We’re all going to be busy.”

  “Then why are we talking instead of doing?”

  “No good reason, But I know what I’d like to be doing.”

  “Me, too. But it’s more than a bit impractical at the moment.”

  “Especially since we’re not sharing the same plane of reality."

  She blew him a kiss and his projection faded from sight.

  Seeing him again reminded her of how much she missed him. His astral projection was worse than a telecom call. She threw
herself in the shower to scrub away the frustration. It wasn’t long before she put aside her longings and turned her mind to the problems at hand. Personnel. Equipment. Timing. More than enough to keep her from fretting over a lover thousands of kilometers away, but she worried about him anyway.

  * * *

  Dodger didn’t know where Morgan was taking him. He didn’t care. Being in her presence was rapture. He was content to follow along, to see what she wished him to see, and to learn what she taught him. Foremost, he was learning how little he knew of the workings of the Matrix. He had believed himself an expert on Cyberspace and was discovering how wrong he was. But then, how much could a meat being know compared to one whose very existence was in, and of, the Matrix?

  They flew through the midnight voids of the electron sky. She seemed to have a goal, for there was none of the darting and swooping that had accompanied their previous jaunts. He could see a humanoid icon ahead in the distance. The icon’s hands were cupped to its face, and it seemed to be calling. Odd behavior, indeed.

  As they drew nearer the icon, Doclger began to see details. The figure was of ordinary resolution, standard corporate-level imagery. It was, in fact, a corporate icon, a chrome salaryman in his chrome suit. Such images were nearly featureless, save for the owning corporation’s logo and the identity codes of machine and operator. This one fit the profile, except that its identifying logo and codes had been erased. Rather amateurishly, Dodger thought, as he inspected the icon’s signature. He could tell that the source of the icon imagery was Renraku.

  Renraku was the megacorp that had designed Morgan. Did this icon have something to do with her? He studied it further. He was in no hurry; she had them cloaked in her power, and the icon’s operator had no idea his location in the Matrix was being observed. The icon lowered its hands and moved off to a new location. Dodger saw the icon limp, and the pieces fell into place.

  Dodger didn’t believe the answer. He had only observed one icon that limped, and it had belonged to Sam Verner. What was Sam doing in the Matrix? Since taking up magic, he had forsworn the deck.

  As though she were waiting for Dodger to identify Sam, Morgan uncloaked them. Or him, anyway, for Dodger suddenly lost sight of her Icon. He knew she wasn’t gone, because he could still feel her presence. It didn’t make sense, but he accepted it. Much that happened around her didn’t make sense. For example, why didn’t she want Sam to know she was here? He might wonder, but he respected her decision. He addressed Sam’s icon.

  “What are you doing here, Sir Twist?”

  The icon turned to face him with turtle slowness. Dodger knew the software involved and had never thought it so slow. Or was he faster now, by virtue of his association with her? More questions. But what was life without questions?

  Sam’s icon completed its turn and spoke. “Looking for you ”

  “Well, you’ve found me.”

  “I’m glad. I was afraid we’d lost you. We need you, Dodger.”

  “If ’tis Matrix matters, I’d be happy to oblige; but if ’tis other, I fear I must decline, for I have matters to attend to here.”

  Sam paused. Microseconds or decades, it didn’t matter to Dodger, She was here for him, even though he couldn’t see her just now. Sam was thinking, calculating with meat slowness.

  “You’ve found it, haven’t you?”

  “Her." Dodger said by way of correction.

  “I see.” There was a longer pause. “Dodger, there are people, living people, who need your help. Let me show you. I’ll tell you all about it when you jack out.”

  “Nay.”

  Another pause A growing habit, in both frequency and duration. Finally Sam asked, “Can you take a data dump, then?”

  “Certes.”

  Dodger skimmed the data as it flowed. It included the material Dodger had gotten from Neko Noguchi, along with several reports from that industrious young runner who Dodger had never seen—although the data entry was logged through on his codes. Much was speculation, but all was serious. Spider was a real threat.

  When the dump was finished Sam said, “There are still missing pieces, Dodger. Some of those pieces are loose in the Matrix. Jenny’s looking for them, but time’s short. I need you, Dodger. I need everyone I can trust working on this.”

  So he trusts me now, Dodger thought, but said nothing.

  Sam asked his next question slowly, as though fearful of the answer. “Are you working with the AI?”

  “Surely you do not find that a problem. She is, after all, responsible for your being a shadow in the Matrix.”

  “I thought that was you.”

  “Nay. She made me a gift of your records, everything from SIN to secret files. But for her good offices, new files would have accumulated. You have much to thank her for.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess so.” A pause. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, or greedy, but do you think that maybe she’d help again?”

  “Mayhap. But ’tis not my place to say. She can go places and do things that deckers only dream about. She has shown me so much.”

  “Can she show you how to get what we need?”

  He was certain she could. Whether she would was the question. “I can but ask.”

  “And can she do it without anyone finding out?” How could he doubt? “She is the Ghost in the Machine. Can there be any question?”

  There was a long pause. Sam’s icon paled and flickered briefly, as if he had divided his attention, then returned to normal intensity. “Dodger, do you know what’s happening outside?”

  Circuitous redundancy, a flesh trait. Dodger decided to humor it. “You have dumped me the data, Sir Twist. I understand the importance.”

  The Sam icon shook its head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean do you know what’s happening to your body?”

  “ ’Tis just meat, a thing of confining flesh. It does not matter.” Dodger laughed. “I roam the Matrix nearly at will now. Speak your needs, and I shall do what you request.”

  31

  The astral defenses around the mansion were thick and strong, but passive rather than active. Certain that active presences were available to respond to any intrusion, Sam didn’t want to be taken as an enemy. A battle could have dire consequences at this point, not the least of which was wasting time. So he stood on the outside and tapped at the wall, drumming on its surface with the steady insistence he heard running in his head.

  It didn’t take long before something came to investigate.

  The small sphere floating through the barrier had tiny arms and legs that thrashed in a swimming motion. Its progress was slow, like a fish breasting a stiff current. Once through the pale yellow of the barrier, a portion of the sphere split and peeled back to reveal a single eye that stared at him.

  The small spirit was a watcher, one of that particularly dumb breed that magicians used as messengers and for simple observation tasks. While it was trying to make up its mind what it should do next, Sam told it what he wanted.

  “Tell the professor I need to speak to him.”

  “Who?” Its voice had a breathy quaver.

  “The professor. Tell him I need to talk to him.”

  “Who?” it repeated.

  Sam had no time for such nonsense. He reached out and snatched the thing, snapping the astral strings that bound it to its summoner. He gathered them up and re-wove them as he molded the whimpering spirit in his hands. Satisfied with his alterations, he tossed it back at the barrier. The watcher fled, bawling for the professor.

  That ought to get somebody’s attention.

  Belatedly, Sam realized that the dumb thing might have been asking who he was, rather than wanting a repetition of whom he was asking for. Oh, well, too late to do anything about that now. The wall was shimmering, deepening in shade and seeming to become more opaque. Presences were gathering at what he wanted to call the top of the wall, but: that didn’t make sense because the wall had no top; his sense was of defenders gathering at the battlements. They knew he wa
s here.

  Something happened to the barrier to his left. A dozen presences exited the wall and rushed toward him. At first he thought they might be spells directed at him, but as they drew closer he realized they were astral projections. The welcoming committee of magicians was coming to meet him. Hoping to demonstrate his peaceful intent, he stood his ground with his arms by his side. To his relief, they halted a few meters away.

  Sam looked them over as they studied him. Most he didn’t know, but three he recognized at once. Urdli and Estios stood closest to Professor Laverty. A fourth magician, a dwarf, seemed vaguely familiar but Sam couldn’t quite place him.

  Laverty stepped past Estios and spoke. “You chose an unusual way of announcing yourself, Sam. I had not expected to meet you this way. ’

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t expect, Professor. But then, nobody’s always right.” Sam hoped his grin had the right amount of confidence and nonchalance. “And the name’s Twist, by the way.”

  The professor inclined his head, acknowledging Sam’s pronouncement. Score one. Sam began to think he might actually have a reasonable chance at making the bargain he hoped for.

  Then Urdli spoke up. “So why do you come here, mongrel? Your churlish noise and unseemly display have interrupted important work.”

  The elf was even more intimidating on the astral than on the mundane plane. Sam felt his cool beginning to slip. He pressed on, hoping he had guessed correctly and that his arguments were well prepared. “You could say that understanding and necessity have joined forces to bring me here. I have come to understand that you were right about my responsibility in this matter of Spider.” Sam let Urdli begin to smile before he added, “And wrong. I have to do something about it, not for anything I’ve done, but for what I am. Even if I hadn’t taken your guardian stone, I would have to be involved in this. My responsibility is to myself. I must be true to my totem.”

  “And by being true to your totem, you are true to yourself and thereby discharge your responsibility." Laverty said