by Tao Wong
Before we can continue the discussion, Katherine walks in, hands on her hips, and glares at me. “It would really be useful if you informed us before you took such actions.” I open my mouth to apologize, but Katherine’s already turned to Lana, offering her a slight inclination of her head. “Congratulations, Ms. Pearson. It’s about time. I look forward to the development of these holdings in an orderly and efficient manner once again.”
“Hey, I’m right here!” I protest.
“Yes.” Katherine sniffs at me then relents, inclining her head while offering me a slight smile. “You have done well with the resources at your disposal.”
“Sassy. Been repressing much?” I say with a smile.
“It looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do in the next little while. But this change, it’ll affect how we’re going for the seat,” Lana cuts in before we get into it.
I don’t miss the amused glint in Katherine’s eyes before she turns all business.
I rub my chin while answering Lana. “Not a lot. We never qualified who the vote would be for. In fact, some might assume I’m looking to be voted in, no matter how much I protest. They might even side with us because of that. Who knows, it might also make things easier. I could just pay a visit to anyone who’s really being an obstructionist…” At the pair of glares and overdramatic sigh from Ali, I wave. “Kidding. Mostly.”
“Well, I can use you as the rebellious caveman,” Lana says. “But Rob and Bipasha will need reassurance.”
“Fair point. I’ll make sure to visit them.”
The ladies nod, then both twitch as their eyes glaze over. With hurried farewells, the pair head off, leaving me alone in the City Core room.
“MY LORD. MAY I ENQUIRE ABOUT MY CURRENT STATUS?”
“What… oh. Right. What do you want to do?” I say, realizing the awkward position Kim is in.
He’s a settlement AI after all—with politic upgrades perhaps, but still a settlement AI. But while he’s been running the settlements, I purchased him directly to give me more control.
“I AM PROGRAMMED TO CONDUCT SETTLEMENT SERVICES. IF I HAD A PREFERENCE, IT WOULD BE TO CONTINUE TO WORK WITH MS. PEARSON.”
“Done,” I say and take a few seconds to transfer ownership. “Just keep feeding me politic updates and tips and we’re good.”
“OF COURSE. MS. PEARSON HAS INDICATED THAT IS ALLOWABLE.”
I chuckle softly and dismiss the notification, leaving me with Ali. Even with my new resolution to stop being an ass and think I’m doing all this by myself, there are certain things only I can do.
Chapter 17
“Mr. Lee,” Bipasha greets me, standing with a smile.
I absently note her addition of a couple of silent guards, individuals in business suits and shades. Which almost makes me want to smack them over the head since we’re indoors. But then again, those shades are probably high-tech ones with toys like flash suppression and auto-targeting. Or at least, I hope so for the Weaver’s sake.
“Thanks. And yes, tea would be great,” I say, nodding to the assistant who comes in to serve us. After I let go of my settlements, I spent a full day reassuring everyone I was still alive, that I would take more precautions, and no, Lana had not decided to launch a coup. Or, in some cases, that the redhead hadn’t snapped. “I thought I’d swing by to talk to you about recent events.”
“I’m grateful for your consideration. But I hadn’t realized we were that close.” Bipasha’s eyes glint with humor and a slight barb.
“We aren’t, but I should have come by sooner,” I say, leaning back in the plush chair. “Things have been hectic.”
“Gathering the votes.”
“I’ve also been considering who might be hiring assassins to knock off the competition. And it made me realize, you know, you and Rob have good motivation to do so.” I stare at the woman, seeing if I get any reaction.
“I have no hand in the attack on you,” Bipasha says.
Eye of Insight doesn’t even twinge, so she’s not using any Skill to conceal her words. Well, nothing beyond the usual array of charm-based passives. Then again, Eye of Insight’s not like Nelia’s Skill, which can ascertain the actual physical truth of a statement. All I have is my own skill and intuition.
“I am still waiting for your answer.”
“About who I’ll support?” I say softly. Instead of answering her, I pick up the cup of tea and blow on it while activating Society’s Web. Hundreds of threads run from her. I’ve realized many of the thinner ones are from her ownership of the settlement. Lana gained so many more in the transfer, the additional responsibility multiplying the already exhaustive threads. Yet for all that, I’m getting the hang of this Skill and find myself sorting through them with one part of my mind while continuing the conversation with the other. I’ve stopped reading the individual information pieces but instead “feel” the threads. “Still haven’t decided yet.”
“Do you intend to wait till the day of?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m holding off till I know we have a chance. I’m still waiting for word from the Truinnar and Movana.” My hands open slightly, as if a shrug. “Till we get either or both of them, we have no chance.”
“True. I had hoped your relationship with Lord Roxley would be of use there,” Bipasha says.
“Me too.”
“Assuming this goes through, we have yet to speak about what you wish for your help,” Bipasha says. “Unless you are doing this for the betterment of all?”
I hear the lightest derision in her tone at the last line, a hint of what she thinks of the idea. And perhaps for those who might act for others? Hard to say. Still, I do note a trend among the threads. The largest and strongest threads lead to many whose names I know, some of whom I’ve actually spoken to. They’re all individuals of power and import in this new world. The feel of those threads is mostly cold, analytical. A weighing of debt and obligation, of resources traded and favors gained. I find a few—very few—threads which glow with emotion, but I almost choke on the intensity of those emotions. When and to whom she feels, she feels with passion.
Thankfully, I’m not one of those. When I finally find the thread leading to me, it’s thin, barely larger than many of those leading to her staff. There is no great emotional baggage related to me, no hidden desires. As far as she’s concerned, I’m just another business transaction.
“No, I’ll want something. But as an acquaintance once said, let’s leave it be for now. Call it a favor for later.”
“A favor.”
“Nothing which will harm you or your settlements. It’ll be within your grasp to grant, and it won’t be too onerous,” I reassure her.
Huh. She has a thread to Lana. Again, not much, though there’s a touch of jealousy there. Envy. But respect too. And another for Mikito, this one tinged with similar feelings as she has for the other champions. Those threads are all thick, deepened by their repeated interactions and numerous times saving each other. Nothing untoward there. Another one to Roxley. Again, a business relationship, though there’s a touch of lust there. I feel a twinge of jealousy which I squash by locating another thread, this one for Ingrid. It’s not thick, but contracts and obligations abound. Interesting.
“Well then, I’ll just have to take your word on it.” Bipasha’s lips curl upward and she leans forward, her armored jumpsuit pulling tighter against her chest, outlining her body. “Tell me, Mr. Lee, am I that beautiful?”
“Huh?”
“Well, you have been staring at me fixatedly this entire conversation. If you would like time alone…” Bipasha says, touching her lips gently. “You are not entirely hard on the eyes either.”
In the corner of my mind, I hear Ali laughing. The damn Spirit is invisible, floating around and inspecting the surroundings, occasionally sticking his tongue out at the guards who cannot see him.
“No. Nothing like that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Oh? Pity.”
I pause, realizing that my a
utomatic rejection might have been idiotic. And then I realize that I’m thinking of sleeping with a woman who might have ordered my assassination. The incongruity of it all breaks my concentration and I let my Skill drop, allowing my Mana to recover while I stare out a nearby window at the changes to Dhaka.
“You’ve done great work here. I’m surprised so many of the Galactics have integrated their designs so well to your architectural theme.”
“I imposed no theme,” Bipasha says and gestures outward, encompassing the many Galactic buildings that have stuck a variety of domes, detailed carvings, and tall towers to their buildings. “The Galactics appreciated some of the local designs and copied it. At least it’s better than the wave of slum architecture.”
I raise an eyebrow and Bipasha gestures, a series of notification images popping up. Four-, five-story buildings with radical overhangs, balconies, and a cluster of faux air conditioners dominate the images. All of the design elements contrast with the silver-grey sheen of System-enhanced material and the alien-required modifications like too-wide or too-tall doorways, filtered window shades, and the like. Buildings that look sleek and elegant under Galactic architectural now look ugly and distorted, a mockery of what came before.
“Oh…” I make a face while Ali laughs softly, muttering something about damn noveau riche idiots.
“Bad enough I’ve been trying to convince the council to repurpose those neighborhoods for agriculture, but now we’ve got Galactics saying we need to preserve it for historical and cultural reasons,” Bipasha says scornfully. “As if anyone actually wants to live and work in those areas anymore. They’ve all moved into the center.”
“All?”
“All but a few fools,” Bipasha says with a dismissive wave. “Sentimental fools.”
I keep silent. Watching Bipasha at work, airing her beliefs, is interesting. It gives me insight into the woman, but I have no place to comment. After all, I ignored such issues in my own settlement, leaving the final resolution to others.
“But that’s not what you came to speak about,” Bipasha says with a smile. “And while this has been interesting, I do have other work. Unless there is more…?”
“Just one. What would it take for you to support Rob? Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically, I might agree if there was an arrangement to rotate the seat,” Bipasha says. “And I’d have to have a Contract outlining what he’d be allowed to do, on-going reports of his actions and the meetings he conducts, and of course, political, economic, and military support for my expansion.”
I fall silent, considering her words, and call up the map of the country once again. Bipasha has, between herself and her allies, conquered a large number of settlements in Bangladesh and its neighbors. There are glaring spots Galactics have managed to hold on to through a mixture of military or diplomatic maneuverings. But somehow, I have a feeling it’s the non-aligned human settlements that Bipasha is eyeing in a bid to solidify her hold of this area. Certainly, from what I’ve learned, her leadership has been significantly compromised by the simple fact that she’s a woman. It’s a misogynistic viewpoint and one that ignores the reality of the System, but old habits die hard.
In the case of some of her ex-enemies, very hard—or so it’s rumored. That is, perhaps, one of my major concerns of any long-term alliance with this woman. Even if the rumors had reached me before, the insight I’ve gained through my Social Web has underlined that fact. But perhaps a cold, merciless, and ruthless leader is what we need. Is Rob, someone who literally stumbled into his position of power, any better?
“Good to know,” I say. “I’m glad to hear that there’s some leeway to discuss things.”
“Some. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you seek a better future for us all. Do not push that too far,” Bipasha says.
With that warning, the meeting comes to an end. For all that I’ve learned of the woman, I can’t help but consider that she has been extremely frank with me thus far. At least on the surface. A nice change, compared to some of the more obscure political maneuverings I’ve had to deal with.
God damn Truinnar.
Next stop, China. I appear on top of the Bank of China once again, looking over the high rises of Hong Kong. I’d Portal into the teashop, but sadly, I’m blocked. Annoying, but in truth, it isn’t that far. A quick elevator ride and jog later and I’m ready for my meeting with Grandmaster Chang.
“Mr. Lee,” Grandmaster Chang greets me.
“Grandmaster.” I take the seat before I pick up the teapot and top off his cup, then I pour myself one, taking the time to regard him with Social Web. I split my mind as I consider the various threads and carry on the initial pleasantries. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Not at all. Food?” Grandmaster Chang asks, gesturing at the waitress.
Over my protests, a series of snacks are ordered. I sit back, flicking my gaze away from him occasionally so that I’m not as obvious in my use of the Skill.
“Thank you. I actually came by to speak with you about the Chinese,” I say.
“There are a lot of us.”
“Yes. There are,” I say, acknowledging his point. Interesting. Obligations, contracts, a chain of responsibility flows from his chest further west, into China. There are a few, but one is certainly larger, more prominent by far. “And that’s why I’m surprised that Bipasha is being supported.”
“I do not indulge in politics,” Jing Yi says firmly.
My lips tighten as I recall Cheng Shao’s flat denial as well. “I am not asking you to. I’m just trying to understand things. And you are much closer to the matter than I am.”
“Again, I don’t comment on politics,” Jing Yi says firmly.
My eyes narrow slightly as I consider what a man with this much power could be concerned about. Yet I somehow don’t sense concern, just caution. I wonder if it’s a holdover from before the System, a desire to keep his head down. After all, the curse “May you be recognized by those in high places” might be apocryphal, but it sure as hell exemplifies Chinese views of the government. The last thing the common man wants to do is deal with them.
“I see,” I say and fall silent while I consider how to push him. The old man is smart and stubborn, so I doubt a straightforward approach will work. However, I have to admit, I hadn’t actually thought through my plans for this meeting.
“Ah, good. The food has arrived. Eat, eat!” Jing Yi proclaims, pushing the plate toward me.
I take his prompts with alacrity, mulling over and discarding various iterations of the same question. It’s only when a truly unfamiliar dish plops down that my concentration is broken.
“Roasted and seasoned Junaar Beast,” Jing Yi says and points at the small, anteater-like creature that sits on the table. Except its skin is crispy like a roasted duck and the set of six feet are certainly not common. The chef has even used the head and its oversized eye sockets to place dipping sauces. “Quite the treat. They started appearing a year into the apocalypse and have spread all across China.”
“Oh?” I serve him a chopped piece of the meat before picking one up myself, savoring the chewy and surprisingly boneless dish. Its meaty taste is a cross between flavorful young lamb and crispy, crunchy, fatty pig. In other words, delicious. “It’s good!”
“Very much so. It’s a pity they’re so hard to catch.” At my polite hum of interest, the Grandmaster continues. “The beast actually is interesting. It raises small creatures—Junaar Mice—and sends them out in front of it. The mice act as bait and distractions for the Beast itself. A very pragmatic approach to life. Don’t you think?”
I pause while chewing on the latest morsel, staring at the smiling old man. I look at the alien creature then the man, before chuckling softly. “Yes. Very practical. Here, have another piece!”
It’s only when I walk back out of the teahouse, after stuffing myself full of good food and trading more war stories, that Ali pops back into existence. The Spirit sniffs, floatin
g alongside me as we fast-walk back to the teleportation pad.
“Not the subtlest of analogies,” Ali says.
“But it works.”
So. Bipasha is the mouse and the Chinese consider themselves the owner. Well, I can live with that, so long as they vote. And after having one attack set on me, their strategy might not be the worse one I’ve seen. Keep your name hidden, keep your head down, and let others attract the attention. Until you need to strike. Not a bad strategy, but not for me.
“Mr. Lee.” Rob smiles, offering me a hand as he stands.
We meet once more at his faux-Oval Office, though this time a half-dozen Secret Service members are standing around. I’m amused, somewhat, by the increase in security.
“Didn’t think me nearly getting killed was that big a deal.”
“Gods, your head is big. You do recall that Ikael got killed while speaking with you, right?”
“You mean, they’re here to protect him against me?” I send the thought back, almost scandalized. Then, realizing there’re a half dozen Advanced Class bodyguards in here, a significant portion of any settlement’s fighting force, I decide that maybe it’s a nice compliment. Of sorts.
“President Markey,” I greet the man and take the offered seat. I’m a little amused that the chair is nice and plushy and still not as comfortable as the Galactic nanoweave chairs I have in my office. But tradition dictates that these chairs look this way, and so here we are. The moment I take my seat, I throw up Society’s Web and begin the sorting process.
“Your decision caught many of us by surprise,” Rob says. “I’m glad to hear that it was voluntary.”
“It was, and it made sense,” I say with a half-smile. “Lana was doing the job anyway. And this leaves me more time to talk with people about the Vote.”
