A Quantum Mythology (60 page)

‘Then why’s he so important?’ du Bois asked. The first IV was empty and the second was starting to deflate. ‘We deserve an answer.’

‘You probably do,’ Mr Brown conceded. ‘But you must have realised that I am going to erase the memory of my explanation from your mind.’

‘Fuck you!’ Grace spat.

Mr Brown grimaced, as if the profanity bothered him.

Silas was making keening noises, trying to stand again. Josh slammed him down into the dirt with his boot and told him to shut up. There was obvious disgust in the American’s voice.

‘He is a Bad Seed. A member of an S-tech-infused bloodline. One that we, or rather I, have driven insane,’ Mr Brown told him.

‘Why?’ du Bois asked.

‘He is a harbinger.’

‘Of what?’

‘Pain, all of it,’ Mr Brown said sadly.

‘You’re as mad as he is,’ du Bois said.

‘Do you know how we drive them mad?’ Mr Brown asked, ignoring du Bois’ remark. ‘We make them just sensitive enough to really feel what’s going on around them. What do you think that says about humanity?’

Du Bois looked down. He started to laugh but ended up coughing instead. When the spasm subsided, he asked, ‘Do you know the one trait in people that I have constantly underestimated?’ Mr Brown raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘Kindness.’

This time it was Mr Brown who laughed. The second IV bag was empty and the third started to deflate.

‘When it comes, nobody will see me any more,’ Silas said.

The American slammed him down into the dirt again. ‘I thought I told you to shut up,’ Josh said.

‘We’re on the wrong side, aren’t we?’ du Bois said.

Grace was looking between him and Mr Brown.

‘No, but every time I’ve explained it to you in the past, you haven’t seen it that way. Your race will cease to be soon.’

‘The evacuation … ?’ Grace said, her voice sounding small.

‘Oh, the people we take with us will look and sound human, but we’ve learned the control lessons taught by the parasites that humans think of as their leaders in this grand era. They will wear silk collars, but they will be no less a slave race for it.’

Du Bois and Grace stared at him.

‘Malcolm’s wrong,’ Grace said. ‘You’re madder than him.’ She nodded towards Silas.

‘Why do this?’ du Bois asked, trying to keep a pleading tone out of his voice. ‘We had the thinkers, the scientists, the artists, philosophers—’

‘And bastards like you to keep everyone in line,’ Mr Brown said. ‘Because humans, though they may have forgotten it in this era, are extremely capable of resisting when they put their minds to it.’

Du Bois looked between Josh and the Pennangalan. ‘And you’re both all right with this?’ du Bois asked. Then he noticed that Josh was looking at him with an expression of disgust on his face. Du Bois had never quite forgiven the American for shooting him at the Manufactory, but there had always been a degree of respect for each other.

‘The Pennangalan is more Naga-tech than person, and Mr Ezard’ – he nodded at Josh – ‘has just heard an entirely different conversation.’

‘I am going to kill you,’ Grace told Mr Brown evenly.

Mr Brown sighed. ‘And I think your partnership has reached its logical conclusion. You’ve both questioned orders, broken doctrine and acted of your own accord too often. I think you bring out the worst in each other.’

‘I don’t agree,’ Grace said.

‘You do understand that I can reprogram people, don’t you?’ Mr Brown asked. Grace clutched her head. Du Bois looked on, horrified, as blood seeped out of her ears. Then the expression on Grace’s face changed and she turned on du Bois with an expression of total hatred.

‘You bastard!’ she screamed at him, tears pouring down her face as she stormed towards him. The Pennangalan interposed herself between Grace and du Bois. Josh was running towards her. ‘I’ll fucking kill you!’ Grace was shouting at him. ‘How could you? How could you!’

Josh grabbed her by the shoulder before she could push past the Pennangalan.

‘I’m so sorry, Grace,’ Mr Brown said. ‘I would see him punished as well, but I need him alive, just a little longer. I wouldn’t make you suffer so if it wasn’t important.’

Grace turned and gave Mr Brown a look of utter contempt. Then Mr Brown stopped and concentrated for a moment, his face filling with concern.

‘We’re being attacked,’ Mr Brown said. ‘We need to go, now.’

‘C’mon, Grace,’ Josh told her. ‘He’ll get his, I promise.’

Du Bois was staring at them, appalled. ‘Grace, look, they’ve done this to you—’ he started

‘They!’ Grace screamed and tried to break free. The Pennangalan slung her rifle over her shoulder and grabbed Grace with both hands. She started pulling Grace bodily out of the retort building. Josh let them go, then went and retrieved the Red Chalice from where it was lying on the ground. Then he walked over to du Bois.

‘Josh—’ du Bois began.

‘You want to regenerate? Then I think you’ll need to eat some dirt.’ Josh kicked du Bois in the head as hard as he could. Du Bois slumped to the ground, barely conscious. Josh turned and walked back to Silas, stuffing the Red Chalice into his jacket as he did so. The killer was mostly healed now. Josh yanked him to his feet and marched him out of the retort house.

Some time later, du Bois started shovelling dirt into his destroyed mouth.

Du Bois parked close to the lifts in the hotel garage. Only a few people saw him staggering from the Range Rover, but they stared at his filthy, blood-covered clothes and his emaciated appearance. If people had subsequently called the police, none had come to speak to him.

Du Bois managed to shower. Then he called room service and ordered a great deal of food. He spent several hours gorging himself until finally he started to feel better and his body began to bulk out again. All the while he was trying to think where he was most likely to find Mr Brown.

He would need nanite-tipped bullets if he was going after Mr Brown, but that was okay, he knew a way to make them. He slid a magazine into the .45, chambered a round and holstered the pistol. He picked up his bag and headed for the garage and the Range Rover.

As du Bois climbed into the Range Rover, the pain felt as if his head was being split in two. His vision filled with white light.

Du Bois sat in his Range Rover, looking around. He was in Birmingham, he knew that, but he couldn’t remember how he had got there. He quickly audited himself. He was missing about four weeks of memory. The last thing he remembered was being in Pohnpei, and recruiting Lodup Satakano for the Kanamwayso operation. He had worked that job alone, just like he always did. He started beating on the steering wheel, the roof, the armoured window, the dashboard, flailing wildly and violently.

‘Again!’ he shouted. ‘A-fucking-gain!’ He repeatedly hammered the horn. The few people in the underground garage were staring at the Range Rover.

Eventually he managed to calm down. He understood that some missions were so sensitive they were classified even from the operatives who worked them. It still didn’t stop him from feeling utterly violated when it happened.

Malcolm’s phone rang. He answered it.

‘We need you in London,’ Control told him.

41

A Long Time After the Loss

Vic escorted Talia into the stone chamber in the monastery. He was pretty sure it was the place where his clone tank had been but there was no sign of it now. Instead there were three uncomfortable-looking stone benches. Two of the red-robed monks stood against the wall, cowls hiding their features. There was no sign of the black, viscous liquid in the transparent, floating container. Vic was thankful for that. Something about the liquid disquieted him.

Scab was leaning against the wall. Talia looked at him. Vic wasn’t sure if she was hurt, frightened or angry. Probably a combination of all three.

‘I won’t try and hurt myself,’ she told Scab.

‘Didn’t you enjoy the immersion?’ Elodie asked. Vic couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a degree of cruelty in the feline’s question.

‘It didn’t work,’ Talia said simply.

‘You’ll like this, there’s drugs,’ Vic told the human nat, hoping to cheer her up.

‘And you’ll be sold soon,’ Elodie added. Vic half-expected Talia to burst into tears. Instead she just turned and looked up at Vic. The ’sect knew she was asking him to kill her. It wasn’t self-pity, she just didn’t want things to get any worse. Talia hadn’t even asked about the eyeless blank in the white linen suit and Panama hat sitting on one of the benches. Or the scorpion made of living brass nestled into the flesh of Scab’s right arm.

‘Will that thing be any use where we’re going?’ Vic asked Scab. He’d always hated the Scorpion, partly because it was an arachnid and partly because it hated him – and everything else.

Scab ignored Vic. He turned to Elodie and nodded. The feline smiled. Her prehensile braid darted out.

‘Ow!’ Talia cried. The stinger on the end of Elodie’s braid had embedded itself in Talia’s arm. Talia tried to slap the feline but Elodie caught the human girl’s hand easily. Vic was already moving towards the two women to separate them.

‘Relax, Vic,’ Elodie said. ‘I was just taking some blood.’

Vic stopped. Talia glared at the feline. The tension was broken by the arrival of Steve’s P-sat carrying a tray with its manipulators. On the tray were three vials containing a brackish-looking liquid.

‘Can I come with you, please?’ Steve whined. ‘After all, I made it.’

‘The dream dragons made it, you refined it,’ Scab said. ‘I’ve programmed the ship. If you want to use your P-sat, it needs to return to the
Basilisk
now.’

‘He can go instead of me,’ Vic offered. Scab handed Vic one of the vials and gave another to Talia. He watched them both expectantly. The vial’s smart matter unsealed the top and Talia knocked back the contents.

Scab turned to Vic. ‘Now.’

Vic shook his head, opened his mandibles and drank the liquid in the vial.

There was a brief falling sensation, and it occurred to Vic that he should have sat down before drinking the vial of Key. Talia got there first. They were in a bar or café. Floors of bare wooden boards. Small tables with low stools around them. Several tables held complicated-looking devices filled with water, with tubes running from them that emitted smoke. The bar was polished dark wood, and behind it were racks of dirty bottles. The air was hot and dusty. An open door led to a balcony that looked out over a
souq
. Beyond the
souq
was a complicated city made up of a jumble of architectural styles, everything from adobe and handsomely carved wood to red brick, glass and steel. There were bamboo houses, tree houses and houseboats, and rising above them were domes and minarets. Jungle grew up, around and through the city like a fungal infection.

All sorts of strangeness inhabited the
souq
. Humans with insect heads; centipedes with human faces; oiled, heavily armed gladiators with stylised facemasks and impractical weapons. Green mists floated though the marketplace, mingling with the clouds of smoke rising from it. And everywhere were beautiful young men of every conceivable shade, colour and size that humanity had to offer. The place appeared to be a combination of drug hallucination and monosexualist fantasy.

Talia was looking around. ‘Are we in North Africa?’ she asked, confused. She was wearing a long, simple, elegant dress with a blue and gold diamond pattern on it. She had no make-up on and her hair was a dark brown colour, long and straight.

‘Where?’ Vic asked. He was bereft of augmentations, a natural ’sect, yet he was somehow still able to stand up and function in the apparent 1G. He wore a light summer suit, a short-sleeved shirt and had a trilby on his head. He was carrying a Browning Automatic Rifle and had a number of other weapons in various holsters. He moved to the door and glanced out over the
souq
. He could see steps leading down to the marketplace.

Scab walked into the café through a curtain from the back room. He looked much as he had back in the stone chamber, but here his look fitted in better. He laid a Thompson sub-machine gun down on the bar. Vic glimpsed movement under the arm of Scab’s suit jacket, the flash of a brass leg burying into flesh.

‘Are we all in the same hallucination?’ Talia asked, her voice touched with awe.

‘Yes,’ Vic said.

‘No,’ Scab said.

‘Now this,’ said an impossibly deep voice from a table in a window bay, ‘this is very civilised.’ The table held one of the water pipes and the man was sucking on one of its tubes. A bubbling sound came from the device and then he exhaled smoke. The man was nearly as tall as Vic but managed not to look too uncomfortable on the tiny stool he was sitting on. He was also quite thin. His skin was so black that it appeared to absorb light. Vic assumed it was a cosmetic augment. He wore a light linen suit, an open shirt with no tie and a Panama hat. ‘This I thank you for.’ He took another hit on the water pipe.

Seated at the table across from him was a human boy who looked to be in his mid-teens, wearing loose-fitting white cotton trousers, his chest bare, head shaved. He was sound asleep. The restful expression on his face and his porcelain skin made him appear somehow beatific.

‘I know you,’ Vic said to the obsidian-skinned man, desperately trying to remember the man’s name. They had worked for him before, but there was something about him he could never quite remember. Vic wasn’t sure how that was possible with his neunonics. He should have perfect recall of everything he’d witnessed, but he couldn’t even remember this man’s name. He noticed that the man was toying with a ring. A speck of material floated over a tiny and complex array set in the ring.

‘Is that antimatter?’ Vic asked in awe. Talia was looking back and forth between them.

‘In a Penning trap setting, yes,’ the man said. His voice was so deep, it felt like it was causing pleasant vibrations in the surrounding atmosphere. ‘And you may call me Patron.’

Vic nodded as if all it made sense now. Patron took another hit of the bubbling water pipe.

‘Are you here to buy me?’ Talia asked in a small voice.

‘Yes, but I assure you that it’s not as bad as it sounds,’ Patron said, a pained expression on his face. ‘We need access to certain genetic data. You will be exceptionally well treated, and protected.’

‘Free?’ she asked.

‘We will attempt to furnish you with as much freedom as possible, but part of your protection will mean—’ he said apologetically.

‘A gilded cage,’ Talia said.

‘I find that very few people use their freedom for anything worthwhile, and would you be free in this age?’

Talia’s mouth turned upwards in a small smile. She gestured over her shoulder at Scab with her thumb. ‘At least you’re nicer than this prick and his bitch girlfriend.’

Vic followed her gesture, and then went cold when he saw Scab shaking with rage.

Scab raised his arm and pointed at the boy. ‘What is that?’ he managed to ask. Vic had assumed it was Patron’s sex toy. He noticed that Talia was looking between the sleeping boy and Scab now, a smile spreading across her face.

‘This, Mr Scab, is merely the fulfilment of a promise. You were paid handsomely and you betrayed me. I had an agent of mine warn you in the Living Cities. Proliferation is to be your punishment.’ Patron gestured at the sleeping boy. ‘Hence the Innocent.’

‘Ohmigod!’ Talia squealed. ‘He’s like you, only nice.’ Vic was already moving. She looked at Scab. ‘You’re so cute!’

Vic managed to interpose himself between Scab and Talia before Scab could get to her. He didn’t know what violence in the hallucination would mean in the real world but he didn’t want to find out. Talia, realising she’d gone too far, was backing away from Scab. Even Patron had his hand up, a worried expression on his obsidian features.

‘We are so close,’ Vic told his partner/captor. Scab was still staring at the terrified Talia, but he backed off and lit a cigarette.

‘He is a social experiment,’ Patron said. ‘I wanted to know what you would have been like if you had grown up happy and well adjusted, cared for, instead of running feral on Cyst. Would you still have become a monster?’

‘I want it dead, before we even start,’ Scab said, still shaking.

‘Obviously not,’ Patron said. It was very clear that he wasn’t the slightest bit frightened of Scab.

‘How can it remain pure and fight?’ Scab asked.

Vic was confused. ‘That guy?’ Vic said, gesturing at the human boy. ‘He couldn’t fight his way out of a wet fart.’

‘Tailored nightmares. He lives through them,’ Patron told the human killer. Scab shook his head and lowered his eyes. Vic wasn’t sure, but he thought Scab looked sad. He had no idea what was going on, and then it hit him. He turned and looked at the sleeping human, appalled.

‘He’s Elite?’ Vic asked. Patron nodded.

‘He has to die,’ Scab spat.

‘Perhaps,’ Patron said.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Talia demanded angrily.

Scab turned on her. ‘You don’t know what I dream of.’ He pointed at the Innocent. ‘That is wrong. It’s an abomination.’

‘Who are you?’ Vic asked Patron. He was more than a little confused and frightened by Scab’s outburst.

‘To all intents and purposes, he’s the chairman of the board,’ a voice said from the balcony.

They looked around. Vic cursed himself. In all the excitement he had forgotten to keep an eye on the steps leading up from the
souq
. Surveillance was a lot easier when he had access to all the sensors in his antennae and a P-sat to help him. The figure standing in the doorway wore a light summer suit, the jacket folded over his arms. His skin was transparent and his flesh had a violet bioluminescent quality to it. Vic wasn’t sure if it was the same spokesperson Scab and he had met when they visited the Living Cities on Pangea, but perhaps that wasn’t important. The hive mind in the Living Cities shared everything and knew everything the others did. Since the attack on Game, the Living Cities were the dominant power in the Monarchist systems, and it was believed that they controlled the remaining Monarchist Elite.

Patron gave the newcomer a look of naked contempt that bordered on disgust. Vic felt that was unfair. If this was the Elder, the representative Lord of Pangea for the hive mind, then Vic had liked him/them when he’d met him/them. In fact, he/they had been one of the few reasonable people he’d met recently.

‘This is clever,’ the Elder said to Scab. ‘I’m assuming this is the real auction, yes?’

Scab nodded.

‘Should there even be an auction?’ Patron asked. ‘I hired Scab to deliver something to me.’ He pointed at Talia. ‘And there she is.’

‘Do you guys even get that I’m a person?’ Talia asked.

Scab was shaking his head absent-mindedly.

‘I am afraid you are also a commodity,’ the Elder said, not unkindly. ‘All I can do is apologise, but I assure you that you will be well looked after.’ Then he turned to Scab. ‘May I sit down?’ Scab ignored him.

Vic gestured to a table. ‘Please,’ the ’sect said. The Elder sat down. Turning to Patron, Vic said, ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Why Scab and you?’ Patron asked.

Vic nodded, then pointed at the Innocent. ‘You have access to Elite. Why not send them?’

‘I wanted it done a little less overtly than that.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Vic said, practising sarcasm. ‘Scab is the soul of discretion.’

‘And yet nobody has known of my involvement until now,’ Patron pointed out. Vic had to admit that was true, though he had been sure there was board-level involvement somewhere along the line. Patron glanced over at the Elder. ‘I underestimated the childishness of the Absolute—’

‘You can glare at me all you want, but we are not the same person,’ the Elder said. He sounded a little peeved.

‘I didn’t think the aristos would use their Elite so quickly,’ Patron told Vic.

‘You know my price,’ Scab said. ‘And you have to kill that,’ he said to Patron, pointing at the Innocent. ‘In fact, that would be a good way for you to start the negotiations.’

‘We might be able to come to some arrangement regarding the Innocent, though I am rather fond of him. He is a prodigious killer whilst he sleeps. I will not, however, be making you an Elite and turning you loose. In fact, I am disappointed that you want something as paltry and tawdry as mere physical power. Power is there for the taking. If you want to be an Elite so badly and you want the Innocent gone, then come and work for us. You can replace him. I will not be paying you anything more because we already have a deal,’ Patron said. ‘I’m hoping to avoid bandying around undignified threats but proliferation is still a possibility. In fact, you already have a cult following as a bounty killer and an ex-Elite. We could probably make it quite lucrative. Collectible designer Woodbine Scabs. The market research has come back quite favourably.’

Vic shuddered at the thought. Scab looked over at the Elder.

‘We will make you into an Elite,’ the Elder said.

‘Are you insane?’ Vic shouted despite himself. Scab turned slowly to look up at his big ’sect captive/partner. Vic hung his head and fingered his BAR. ‘Sorry, Scab.’

Scab looked back to the Elder. ‘A free Elite?’ Scab asked.

The Elder looked a little uncomfortable. ‘It’s not that simple—’ the Elder started.