The Gobo Bride: A Lewis Gregory Mystery

by Mason Adgett

  Lots of video clips of Boldt. It was my first time seeing him. He didn’t look at all like Kantsky. Most of the videos were old and in them he didn’t look very dangerous. His expression was usually the same – a little lost but aware of it like he had wandered into an unfamiliar part of a building and was trying to find his way back. He had red hair, a loose uncontrolled mess of it, and large dark freckles over very pale skin. Kantsky had been dark, forbidding, self-assured. I didn’t see any of that in Boldt.

  Recent video of Boldt – a couple clips, one of him being processed by civilization enforcement, another seemed to be him talking to a lawyer – he looked even worse. Not just lost but like the life had gone out of him, like there was no hope of being found.

  I felt a strange war of emotions about it. On the one hand I knew he was Kantsky and my burning hate for Kantsky burned equally for Boldt. But on the other hand to look at Boldt made it difficult, almost impossible to equate him with the madman I remembered killing with my bare hands. Boldt was like a stranger and if all I knew of him was the lost, hopeless face I saw on the 3V screen then I probably would have felt sympathy instead.

  I turned off the news, feeling even worse than when I had started it. Again I felt irritable, claustrophobic. Depressed. I had to go somewhere. So I called Charles and told him I was headed over.

  ····13····

  Max, Charles’ cat, pretended he didn’t know me. But his digital butler – a feature I couldn’t afford – greeted me with ominous enthusiasm and said he was quite pleased that I had come by. Greaves as he was called had no image but his voice throughout the house came through as cultured, polite, and also coldly intimidating until you got to know him. He was really one of the best pieces of AI I had ever encountered, and Charles had purchased as an add-on the highly expensive but incredibly cool Legendary Darth Vader pack featuring the original voice of James Earl Jones. I loved Greaves. I wouldn’t go so far as to call the butler a friend, but that’s only because he refused – chillingly but respectfully – to talk politics with me.

  Charles also was happy to see me. “I didn’t expect you till maybe tomorrow or the next day,” he said. “You don’t think you should be getting some rest?” He looked me over critically like he was looking for hidden flaws in my construction.

  “Couldn’t sit still,” I said.

  “You’re looking a little more yourself,” he said after finishing his inspection.

  “I don’t feel it.”

  “I could have killed him for what he did to you,” he said.

  “And what he did to India.”

  “Sure,” he agreed. “And India.”

  “Well they’re probably going to,” I said. “Kill him, I mean. The Alliance member talk has already started.” Max finally acknowledged my presence, sneaking up behind me and rubbing once along my leg before turning his nose up and returning to the corner. He eyed me through a whisker while pretending to look the other way and I did the same.

  “But he is an Alliance member, right?” Charles asked.

  I shrugged. “He never said so. But he did express some admiration for the uncivilized.”

  “There you go.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t seem right to me, though. Maybe I’ve got the wrong profile but I just don’t see him as a member of some organization. He seems too much like a loner, I guess. I can’t make sense of this guy mixing it up with other anarchists, I really can’t. Kantsky seems to be his own kind of crazy.”

  “You mean Boldt,” he said.

  “Yeah, Boldt.” I shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “I’ve got something to show you on that,” he said. “If you’re up for it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Normally I wouldn’t even worry about it.”

  “Then don’t,” I said. “It’s what you were talking about earlier so very cryptically?”

  “Well, I’ve really got two things,” he said, “not just the one, but let me show you this first.” He waved toward the 3V and it powered on. “Greaves,” he said, “can we go offline for this? Full firewall.”

  “Of course, Mr. Thomas. Should I excuse myself as well?”

  “Yes, just for the time being. I’ll hit the button when we’re through.”

  “Very good, sir.” The disturbing sound of his breathing apparatus faded away. It was up to us then to trust he wasn’t listening. I had no reason to question Greaves but hackers really got you thinking twice about things.

  “Okay,” Charles said, “I’ve got this new friend in behavior enforcement. He’s a fan. Really good guy, just trying to do the right thing. I got him to bend some rules for me, just a little bit, and let me take home a couple things. But I promised him I wouldn’t let this stuff go anywhere, okay? That it was just to show you. If it got out anywhere else it would get this guy fired at least.”

  “Sure, sure,” I said.

  “This first thing will be public record in less than a week anyway, pretty sure. I just wanted to let you get an opportunity to see it.” He stopped and inspected me again. “Only if you want to.”

  “Charles, just tell me what it is.”

  Instead, he flicked toward the 3V screen and a video started. Our view was from an overhead camera at about a sixty degree angle, looking down onto the pale forehead of Boldt, gleaming white as it reflected the bright light turned on him back to the camera. He sat at a table in a black, featureless interrogation room, his hands locked into rigiplast cuffs bolted to the table’s surface.

  “State your name for the record,” a voice said, sexless, curt, professional, unforgiving. Despite the perfect anglish I doubted it was human. There was no real way to tell. I just didn’t think they’d leave such a sensitive interview in the hands of a human, and to some of the second and third galaxy species anglish was child’s play. Some such could read the intricacies of human voice and body language far better than I could ever hope to.

  Boldt stirred slightly then mumbled, “Boldt.”

  “Full name.”

  He sighed, sinking into his chair. “Erik Daniel Boldt as’Geony.” He said the last bit – the first I had heard the guvian name – with extra emphasis, even a bit defiantly, I thought.

  “State your biological identification, place of birth, and citizenship status.”

  Boldt took a second then quietly said, “Guvian. I was born on Earth. I reject citizenship.”

  There was a significant pause before the next question. “You believe yourself to be biologically guvian, is this correct?”

  Boldt rolled his eyes. “Obviously,” he said in a dead monotone with almost no spirit.

  “You were born guvian?”

  “Of course.”

  Something was bothering me about the whole thing already but it wasn’t Boldt’s inability to grasp he wasn’t a gobo. It was the voice. It wasn’t right – it wasn’t Kantsky’s. I had just listened to the recording of the comm earlier and it didn’t seem to me to be the same voice as that of the man in the video. I interrupted the playback.

  “That’s not Kantsky.”

  Charles gave me a look like he thought I might be losing it. “There is no Kantsky. It’s Boldt.”

  “I know that,” I said. “But his voice on the shuttle when he talked to us on the comm, remember? When he kidnapped us? That’s not his voice.” I pointed at the screen. “You were there.”

  “Yeah, I was there. And that’s him, that’s the same guy,” he said, but his tone said he wasn’t sure. “At least it sounds like the same voice to me. I mean the audio is different, right? From this recording and the comm. But the voice is the same.”

  “We can check,” I said. “I watched it on Lewis Gregory this morning.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, okay. I can pull it up.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Let me finish watching this first.” I turned my attention back to the 3V screen as Charles un-paused the V. We watched Boldt shift a few times in his chair as he waited for the next question.

  �
�At what point,” the off-screen voice asked, “did you become fixated on the human India Phoenix?” Here Boldt looked down at his fists secured to the table, slowly unclosing and closing his hands a few times. “Answer the question,” said the voice.

  “I don’t think I was… fixated,” said Boldt. “I don’t think fixated is the right… I don’t know where you get that idea. I’ve always thought she was a good actress, that’s all there is to it.”

  “When did you first become aware of the existence of India Phoenix?”

  “I don’t know,” said Boldt, mild frustration in his tone. “I don’t remember. I saw her first movie, Crash Landing. I remember her in that. It must have been that.”

  “She made an impression on you?”

  “I guess,” Boldt said. “I told you, I thought she was a great actress.”

  I too had seen Crash Landing, when India must have been around twelve years old. The acting was okay but I don’t think most people would have called the performance “great.” She had played a mute cardackian child found by a human exploration party that crashed on an uncivilized jungle planet. What he called “acting” had been a lot of close-ups on India making intense, worried faces as everyone in the exploration party gradually died around her. The movie had some intense scenes here and there but was mostly a predictable mess and India hadn’t had to deliver a single line.

  Boldt went on: “I knew who she was already when she did the remake of that Rokel film, the first time she appeared as Audrey Hepburn. I love Hepburn and India did it just right. It was like she was alive again.”

  This I could agree with. India’s talent – and it was impressive – was in how she moved. She could be graceful as a swan or as awkward as a lanky teenager, she could move with the swagger of a queen or mince as bashfully as a scolded child, and she could imitate the movements of just about anyone she saw. That’s why she had made such a success bringing back some of the best actresses of the past. The acting might not have been as true and deep as that of the classics but she was able to convince you that you were watching one of the greats, like Boldt had said, as though they were alive again. Her Audrey Hepburn had been such a hit that it had inspired waves of re-makes featuring the “original” actors and in a few short years she had appeared again as Hepburn (twice), as Julia Roberts (three times), as Ingrid Bergman (twice), and also as Bette Davis, Meryl Streep, Candy Pearle, and Alara Ray. Re-skinning actors and actresses as the greats has been a niche thing since last century but I don’t think it would be stretching it to say it was India who had made it as big a thing as it was today.

  So far what Boldt was saying probably could have been said by most of the men in the solar system. Boldt’s obsession – if that’s what it was – was hardly unusual. The interviewer asked some more questions about that, establishing his interest in India as a fan, then got to the nitty gritty:

  “At what point did you decide to kidnap India Phoenix and keep her in your laboratory?”

  Boldt opened his mouth and shut it again. Then he said, “How long are you going to keep me here? I didn’t do what you say I did and until you can show proof I did you have no right to keep me like this.” He clenched and unclenched his hands again. “I demand a representative of my rights as a member of civilization.”

  The voice on the other side had no discernible inflection. “You have stated previously you reject citizenship. Do you retract that assertion?”

  “You and I both know I can’t reject it.”

  “Yet you did.”

  “I want to. I would if I could. But you and I both know I can’t. You showed up at my facility – uninvited, unexpected, trespassing, I might add – and found my machinery and accessed my devices and you came to your conclusions. Do you know how long, how very long, I’ve worked on those devices? I started work on those before India Phoenix was even born. What do you think they have to do with her? I know you don’t understand the devices or you’d know already that what you’re accusing me of isn’t true. I told you already I did not kidnap India Phoenix or this other person you’ve referred to and I wouldn’t have any reason to. Where is your proof? Until you have it I demand a representative!”

  “How did you transport the victims from the Pyramus System to your facility in the Solar System?”

  “I didn’t. You understand? I did not transport them there or anywhere. I can’t tell you how they arrived at my facility – if indeed they were at my facility as you say – or how they traveled from one star system to another if indeed that’s what they did. I don’t know anything but what you’re telling me. The only way I know of to travel from Pyramus to Solar is through the Space Machine, and how would I do that? How would I or anyone else carry someone through the Space Machine unnoticed? Even if I wanted to do it, it couldn’t be done. Here I am asking for evidence and instead you’re trying to figure out how I achieved the impossible? You all know it’s impossible. Maybe you should consider the improbable: that I did not kidnap Phoenix, Gregory, or anyone else!”

  “Can you explain, Mr. Boldt, your frequent appearances in the online activities of India Phoenix? Do you deny that you sought out her presence in the gaming system Galactic Empires without her knowledge? Did you not access her private account information without her knowledge in violation of all acceptable civilized standards? Justify yourself on these accounts.”

  Boldt stared down at the table. “Occasionally. I would occasionally try to find Miss Phoenix online.” He had grown animated for a bit but now reverted to his initial spiritless self. “I liked to look at her, that’s all. I just wanted to look.”

  I made Charles stop it there though there was more after that. “I might watch the rest later,” I said. “But it’s not him. That’s not the man who kidnapped us. I’m almost sure of it.”

  “It has to be,” Charles said. “We found you and India at his station. He’s already acknowledged that was his hideout. He was there. He had you in his possession.”

  “It’s not him,” I said. “The voice isn’t the same, the way he talks, just, the way he thinks. I can tell. It’s not the same voice. I told you already.”

  “Let’s play it back,” he said. “The clip from the show and this one.” He called back Greaves and had him splice clips together so we could watch one after the other.

  Meanwhile I asked him about something else I had wondered during the interview. “He said something about devices he’s been working on. Do you know anything about that?”

  Charles grinned. “Well there was all kinds of stuff we found before we got to you. I imagine he’s talking about some of that.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Gadgets. Devices. Robots. What I’m sure he’s talking about though was the weirdest thing. It looks like he was trying to build androids or something. We found all these women in a room, but they weren’t really women… Just very lifelike. Some were half-finished.”

  “You’re telling me he builds androids that look like people?”

  “Almost. They almost look like people but I doubt they’d really pass. Also none of them were working. They were all just sitting there. Like wax statues.”

  “Wow.”

  “And did I mention? There was a theme. I recognized some of them… Apparently Boldt has a thing for classic movie actresses going all the way back to the beginning. He had like a Kim Basinger, a Scarlett Johanssen. He was apparently in the middle of an Arbor Thauma.”

  “Just women?”

  “Yeah, just women.”

  Greaves interrupted to inform us he had completed an arrangement of clips. We watched, but it didn’t help much.

  “Perhaps I can assist by constructing a sample of similar phonemes?” Greaves reconstructed Boldt’s interview to match the text of the recording from the comm. It didn’t help. In the end Charles and I disagreed. To me they didn’t sound anything the same. To Charles it could easily have been the same person.

  “What do you think, Greaves,” I asked, for an objective opinion.

&n
bsp; “They show a high rate of similarity in physio-acoustic construction,” he replied. “80 to 85 percent.”

  “I told you,” said Charles.

  “They show very little similarity,” Greaves continued, “in inflection, identity generated ideation, and grammatical construction. Five to eleven percent.”

  “I told you,” I said.

  He shrugged, and we agreed to disagree.

  ····14····

  “Okay, what about the other thing,” I said as Charles wiped the videos away. “You said earlier you had two things to show me. Is the other one something else about Boldt?”

  “Not Boldt,” he said. “Vavaka. I want you to look at this.” I followed him into his study, a semi-spherical affair designed after the meditation eggs of the Chirons with curved soft-light walls, an incredibly comfortable pillow stuffed with some magical substance rounding the bottom, three shelves around the top that fit maybe two dozen books. Charles like myself liked to keep his favorites in paper form. He pulled one of the volumes out, what looked like a self-print volume with a paperback cover, plain grey, no design, no text. I flipped it open and saw it to be a spreadsheet, some 300 pages with a list of values.

  “What is this?” I sat on the pillow and started flipping through it. He sat on the other side of the egg and kicked his feet up. Max followed us in and curled underneath my leg, disappearing into the pillow as they were pretty much the same shade of black.

  “That,” he said, “is a printout I was able to acquire from Ultra Virtua. It’s in two sections. The first section, which is most of it, is a log of India’s gaming history.”

  “It’s just numbers,” I said. They went on and on without interruption.

  “There’s an appendix in the back,” he said. “That first list is game ID, for instance, that second list is primary modification, but all the actual names are cross-referenced in the last fifty pages or so. You’ve also got date, log-on time, log-off time, other player count, a couple other things, I can’t remember them all, but that’s in the appendix too. Look in that first column. You see she’s got a lot of 4177 for instance. Look that up in the back and it says Galactic Zookeeper. Apparently she played that a lot.”