‘Why can’t they see?’
‘Why?’ Dak asked. ‘Same reason why people kill for their job. Same reason why people hurt each other. They believe it’s necessary, that they’re doing good for the world. They believe there are a small group of people who know better than everyone else how to organise the world. History has shown what happens when a small elite run the world. It fucks up. Because they don’t know better. They’re just a self-interested ilk. And people fall in line to institutionalism because human propensity for self-delusion is limitless. They’ll let their masters beat them, starve them, humiliate them and people will still believe they deserved it, that it is necessary, that it is policy.’
‘Perhaps it is policy,’ said Sonja, sipping her soup. ‘But it’s not politics. Politics is the open engagement and inclusion of all people on equal grounds. All you can do with policy is hope to mitigate its affects.’
‘What is policy?’ Kyo asked.
‘Having a neurophase in your head!’ Dak said pointing to his old implant scars. ‘Getting wired up just to be included in the Atominii. Committing yourself to the demands of a few, holding yourself in lower esteem to others, allowing yourself to respect those who hurt others or those who believe they are better than you. Power concedes nothing without demand. That’s policy.’
Kyo understood it. He agreed, but the Atominii sounded like a crazy place. He would never understand how people could allow themselves to be prisoners. But sometimes he could sense the prison growing, reaching out to threaten now even his own existence.
‘That’s one thing I don’t get,’ said Kyo, ‘I don’t get how people let themselves be treated badly. We would never stand for it at home. The whole city is standing against Krupin and all for me. You could all have abandoned me years ago and none of you did.’
‘Because it’s wrong,’ said Sonja. ‘None of this is your fault. We all deserve a fair start in life. The Blue Lycans didn’t have one. They became killers because of their unequal start in life. Their hearts yearned to be free and they were sullied in blood, angry at the world. Vengeful. A taste of violence by which their hearts have been forever scarred’
-32-
As the day faded over Cerise Timbers, the sun’s periwinkle glow cropped the forests black, the lofty eventide glossed in darker Prussian tones of blue freckled only by the glistering stars where the smiling lunar crescent thinned. And all activity on the sky port strip was barren save the Perigrussia Skybus, whose doors bloomed with golden light where two body guards stood attentively at the bottom of the steps awaiting instruction.
Inside the Perigrussia Skybus main cabin was very contemporary and comfortable, fashioned with the highest cybernetic technologies and anatomical comforts. There were transformable seats arranged with their own entertainment studios in their own spaces of the cabin, each one surrounded by screens and each seat padded with relaxing cushions. Vadim slumped into the seat closest to the cabin door, while Krupin sat in the command chair. His underdressed cheerleaders surrounded him and poured wine into a platinum goblet, his first victory trophy won from battles in the hardlands.
Horace was walking in from the pilot room and he looked around, confused.
‘Problem Horace?’ Krupin asked in his native tongue.
‘The cadonavis communication systems are not working,’ he reported.
‘Since when?’
‘I don’t know.’ Horace shrugged.
‘Log into the city servers, try and acquire a signal boost from Cerise Timbers.’
‘Yes I tried.’ He added. ‘But we are denied access.’
Krupin’s countenance suddenly grimaced.
‘What about internal networks?’ he inquired.
‘The Q-net is operating fine.’
‘Patch in,’ he ordered, ‘connect me to East B’ One’s Federal building. I will speak to that bitch Chahuán and find out what the hell is happening.’
Horace nodded and returned to the pilot cabin, climbing into one of the four pilot seats and looking out onto the dark air zone strips. He saw the glowing city sparkling with movement and activity under the dome. The vertical light strips of a few open hangar doors rattled and flared with welding and maintenance activity.
‘This is Perigrussia Skybus operative to East B’One, come in East B’ One.’
There was a long pause and Horace kept his eyes on the city.
‘East B’One respond!’
But there was still no reply. Krupin lingered inside followed by a strong scent of mould wine and he leaned on the side of the Pilot seat just below Horace’s arm.
‘Try her personal Quantic.’
‘I don’t believe I have the number.’
‘You can access the Q-net,’ said Krupin, drinking. ‘Look her up.’
Horace nodded. He began working at the visual screens and sat back with a sigh.
‘We have no authorisation,’ he submitted, patting his thighs.
‘So then, keep trying the Federal building.’
‘I doubt at this time anyone will answer…’
‘Run a subroutine,’ Krupin suggested, ‘keep the call going and have it inform us as soon as it gets through. Honestly, Horace would you like me to do your job for you?’
Horace shook his head shamefully as Krupin left and he began working a recalled subroutine protocol from the bridge.
Krupin returned to the cabin and became vaguely aware of voices emanating from the outside. He looked at the open cabin door and approached the steps to hear a small commotion down on the lower air zone strip.
‘Sounds like we’ve visitors,’ said Vadim Raw-Dog, slouched in his chair.
‘Go see.’ Krupin ordered.
Indignantly, Vadim got to his feet and walked out of the cabin door to the top of the stairway. He descended to meet them on the air zone where the guards were stood holding back two visitors. Vadim faced Hattle again for the first time since their encounter in the ring, and his father Pierce Lewis.
‘We come in peace,’ Pierce promised, ‘and we have gifts.’ And he turned to his son and Hattle picked up the box sitting by his feet and offered it to Vadim.
‘No offence,’ he said as Vadim took the box in his two hands.
The security guards loomed over the box and ran a quick prognosis scan with their bionic eyes and nodded to Vadim, quietly confirming it was safe.
‘This is the very best of Cerise Timbers whiskey.’ Said Pierce.
‘Friends!’ Krupin’s voice suddenly hollered from the top of the stairway. He stood brazenly in the doorway with a half-smile jarred on his face and his eyes shielded behind red shades. ‘Why don’t you come aboard? Let us have big talk.’
Vadim led the way and indicated with a nod that they should follow, and Hattle and Pierce obediently did.
‘Ladies, offer our guests some comfort,’ Krupin ordered as the new guests entered the Perigrussia Skybus. They each looked around the interior, a strange environment they were eager to get accustomed to. They felt privileged to finally see the insides of the cadonavis.
The girls took each man by the hand and led them to their own seats where they settled in. Vadim watched consciously, picking a scab from his swollen eye and propping his feet upon the boxed offerings handed to him earlier.
‘It’s good to have visitors,’ said Krupin, ‘nobody wishes to come in here, and they just stand at the steps and tell me I can leave.’ The coach drank a huge gulp of wine and licked his lips. ‘What does it mean no root no fruit?’
Pierce Lewis was smiling as one of the women sat across his knee.
‘It’s something the anarchists say,’ he explained.
‘The garden weed needs roots,’ said Krupin. ‘But poison one root you poison the supply. Can the water be poisoned, Mr Lewis? Only the Atominii will find out.’
Krupin put his cup down and walked into the middle of the room and hooked his thumbs behind his tight leather belt.
‘You should get out of here Lewis,’ he said. ‘Right now, we’re
trying to send out information about the gene-freak boy here in the city. The Atominii will send their special forces to deal with anarchists. Olympians are not allowed on planet Earth. Only problem is we getting no signal.’
‘Actually I’ve come to talk to you about that,’ said Pierce. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen the boy. It shows how degraded things are around here. But right now this city is turning against my kind.’
‘In what regard?’
‘They’re going to kick us out.’ Hattle suddenly came in.
‘Shut up!’ Pierce Lewis snapped angrily, his eyes fierce. ‘I’ll do the talking.’
Krupin raised his brows and smiled his grilled teeth at Vadim and they shared some secret glance that neither Pierce nor Hattle caught.
‘The thing is,’ Pierce started, excusing the déshabillé woman sat on his chair so he could adjust into his bargaining posture, elbows over knees, palms together. ‘You remember, I once told you my family used to own this city?’
‘Your father lost control,’ said Krupin.
It vexed Pierce deeply, but he knew he had to be patient with Krupin. He was a powerful man and he needed to earn his respect not through biting his head but by roistering his past achievements.
‘My father,’ he started, ‘was a good man. He was disciplined, controlled. And he was already very old at the time of the revolution, too old to notice things changing under his nose. He had undergone genetic therapy so, as you can imagine, he was not a poor man either.’
Krupin showed he was listening.
‘I do not wish for the Atominii to destroy this place,’ said Lewis. ‘I’ve been organising these fights not just to entertain or compete, but for a bigger purpose Mr Krupin. I want you to help me build back the city to what it was. I want to see people motivated, invested into the city, not celebrating and partying and growing crops on the roads and in the streets. I want a place of order and I want to be the head of state. I can do it. If you help me you will have great allies here. This is my birth right.’
‘And the gene-freak?’ Krupin asked.
‘We’ll kill him.’ Hattle offered.
Krupin suddenly started to laugh and he turned back to the boxer. ‘I don’t want him killed.’ He said. ‘I want him trained. I want him my secret weapon. You know he is Blue Lycan, don’t you? They are only Olympians left on this planet; he has to be one of them.’
‘We had our own theories,’ said Pierce. ‘But the kid is dangerous. I can see why you’d want him trained.’
‘The problem is,’ said Krupin. ‘This city’s leaders have forced my hand. They will not hand him over. They tell me the boy is gone. So now I get Atominii to destroy them. I’ll hand over evidence of boy’s existence and-’
‘Wait!’ Pierce said standing. ‘Please don’t do that. I want to be restored as the leader of this place, not the king of ruin. Understand?’
Krupin smiled and lifted his great palm to Pierce’s face, patting softly.
‘I understand,’ he assured. ‘But anarchist disrespected me in front of my men and women. This is not good thing. So now I show them these image files, evidence that gene-freaks are hiding here.’
Krupin held his hand to the holofield projection unit and they beheld a scrambled screen, static and voice of all information. Cyrillic letters printed out for them all to read and Krupin knew those words well, they were telling him that their HDD image files were deleted.
‘That’s impossible…’ he grunted. ‘Where are the files? HORACE!’
‘I’m working,’ said Horace, hurrying to the pilot seat and taking command of the archives. He began swiping through layers of data, touching different screens and working through his neural-headset. He shook his head, baffled, and turned to Krupin.
‘Everything is gone.’
‘NO!’ Krupin screamed, punching his cup and sending it flying through the cabin. And the startled girls hurried out and began hiding in the lower levels of the ship. Lyov guarded the exit and folded his arms as Krupin seethed, approaching Pierce.
‘What did you do?’ he asked.
‘It wasn’t me, I swear it,’ Pierce promised, holding up his hands. ‘I came here to offer a business deal. This has nothing to do with me. I can’t even work a computer.’
Suspiciously Krupin panned around each of them, assessing mutiny, but he knew it would make no sense after reconsideration.
‘Horace,’ Krupin started. ‘How likely is it we can be hacked?’
‘The Perigrussia Skybus has defences.’ He said. ‘There should be no way without us realising it.’
‘Oh, it’s them alright,’ Pierce Lewis assured, straightening up and brushing down his top. ‘You can be sure it’s them. They’ve destroyed your data. I can help you.’
Krupin scowled and rubbed his skinny head and reluctantly glared for a moment at Pierce.
‘Let me find out who did this to your property,’ said Pierce, ‘let’s work something out.’
‘Work what out?’ Krupin sneered menacingly.
‘Help me get control of this place again,’ he said, ‘and instead of informing the Atominii, you let me find out where the gene-freak is hiding.’
-33-
Malik Serat sat back as the chair moulded to his limbs. The room, he was told, was a Sensorium projection chamber. For Malik, it was like stepping into a thirty foot rounded cave. The ceiling reached up over his head like a dome, below him was a bridge that crossed a shallow lake of black water to the mechanical chair that stood in the centre. It was illuminated only by four small spotlights shining down into the black lagoon, and the space was mostly otherwise dark and metallic. The chamber echoed and there was the occasional drip and slap of water provoked by vibrations. Malik was aware of a multitude of Sensorium projector rooms around this level of the Atominus Phalange analogous to this one. He settled into the chair and rested back, the adjustments tipping him into recline.
‘Comfortable?’ Vance asked with an awry smile beset on his pallid features, his long face lined with fine wrinkles. Vance patted Malik’s arm approvingly as he walked around the chair.
‘Very,’ Malik said dryly. ‘Is this going to be like those tests already conducted on Orandoré?’
‘No,’ Vance whispered eerily. ‘Activating these memories will be quite intense. It’ll be like living the moments again almost.’
Malik suddenly looked worried. ‘I will experience my memories?’
‘It’s necessary,’ said Vance.
‘-there’s no other way to access them? Maybe passively or-?’
‘Don’t worry Malik,’ Vance chuckled slightly. ‘Your memories can’t hurt you.’
‘No,’ Malik stated, ‘it’s not just my memories that concerns me.’
He felt the cold ring of metal touch his skin as Vance fed the straps over his arms and tightened the nylon.
‘You’re not a prisoner,’ Vance explained, moving around to strap down his other arm. ‘It’s simply that some people react violently to certain memory stimulations. I can’t be sure what you’ve been through on the Erebus but I don’t want to take any chances.’
‘Do you imagine I’ll attack you?’ Malik almost laughed.
‘It’s not that, Malik,’ Vance explained. ‘Your neurophase is still new, and everybody’s brain is configured differently. If the neuro-ligature isn’t able to stimulate the correct neurotransmitters, then I won’t be able to inhibit your motor functions. I need to provoke your natural neuro-chemistry to regulate glycine and other amino acids. Long story short, without this process you will be acting out your dreams. That’s why I need restraints, in case the paralysis does not work.’
‘Is the process physically painful?’ Malik inquired as Vance strung down his other arm.
‘No,’ he assured. ‘This process has been very successful in therapeutic terms. Our memories can be like baggage, Malik. It does one a good deal to purge them.’
‘Vance,’ Malik whispered, turning his head slightly in the chair. ‘If you happen to find the chao
s cipher in there, don’t organise the codes into understanding,’ he caveated. ‘If you translate the code without me the consequences will be grave.’
‘Of course,’ Vance said, walking back down the bridge to the observation room. ‘I can’t be in the room with you throughout this process. It could disturb your attention.’
He reached the entrance door and walked through the large sliding panels. Vance turned in the doorway and nodded to his brother.
‘It’ll be over very quickly,’ he promised. ‘Just like waking up from a deep sleep, you’ll hardly remember anything that happened.’
‘Good,’ Malik breathed, turning his head up to the convex ceiling. The doors slid shut and pushed inward to align with the walls, sealing off all sound and light from the outside. Malik was aware that his brother was on the other side of a one-way panel looking in, but it was impossible to tell where. He was stood somewhere in the corridor serving tens of rooms identical to this one.
‘I’m shutting down the lights now, Malik,’ said Vance through an audio amplifier inside the room. ‘Try and relax. The next thing you’re going to see in the Sensorium will be the neurosphere interface. I’ll teach you to navigate.’
In the observation corridors Vance glared momentarily at one of the Nexus servers and logged in his avatar. Then he initialised Malik’s neuro-ligature for the first time, harmonising the neurophase.
Chaos Cipher Page 32
