DeathWeb (Fox Meridian Book 3) (17 page)

‘Huh. A father does not like to hear this kind of thing from his daughter, you know?’ Fox laughed at that. ‘Anyway, um, Marie seems like a nice girl.’

‘She is. Pretty, smart, and I won’t mention her other attributes to save your blushes. Dad, I know you’re not homophobic, and I know you’re not entirely comfortable with same-sex relationships. You don’t have to make nice about it, but it’s there and I like her, so maybe we should just keep quiet about my personal relationships.’

‘Works for me, I guess. Remember Daniel Berkewitz? You were seeing him for a while in your teens.’

‘Danny? Sure. I remember Danny.’

‘Oh, he’s Daniel now. He’s a minister.’

‘Danny?! You’re not serious!’

‘Church of God’s Mind. His parents didn’t speak to him for a couple of years, but he brought them round. They say he’s still a Christian, and that’s what counts, even if he has some funny ideas.’

‘They’re the ones who want to join with God by uploading onto the internet, right? He always did like technology and his parents thumped that Bible pretty hard. Huh, Danny a minister. I remember him fumbling with my bra hooks.’

‘And we’re back to places I don’t want to hear about.’

Fox laughed again. It was nice, driving toward Topeka with her father. When she had left, it had been on a local bus. Topeka had a small maglev system but it did not go out to the airport then. ‘Hey, did they ever take the train lines out to the airport?’

‘Three years ago. By local subscription. Never could get the budget from central government.’

‘Central government doesn’t have a budget. Or I never saw any of it in NAPA. It’s the same all over, you know? Minimal government. You asked for it, you got it, and it’s pretty damn useless. No point in complaining about it.’

‘You may be right,’ he said after a short pause. ‘You know how it is out here. All the administration is out on the east coast and we feel like we’re forgotten. We produce half their damn food and they don’t seem to know we’re here.’

Fox was silent, partially because he was right. The problem was that they had got where they were because that was what people wanted, and instead of moving back, they just seemed to want to go forward. And she was not interested in talking politics; it would just lead to arguments. ‘City hasn’t changed much,’ she said.

Topeka was a fairly low city. An enterprising property baron had built one arcology there, in the north of the city, but it was different from the designs in the more space-strapped east. This one was a huge, stepped pyramid, buttressed and fitted with retractable shields to prevent damage if a tornado happened to hit it. The rest of the city was, as far as she knew, not that different from how it had been at the beginning of the century. They were not going far in, the house she had grown up in was on the south-east side and the airport was to the south, but she remembered going to malls and coffee shops in the city with friends.

‘If you get the time, you should go in,’ Jonathan said. ‘It’s changed a bit in a decade, but you’ll still find places you know. University’s still there. Remember when you wanted to go there to study agriculture?’

‘I was twelve, but yeah, I remember.’ A year later, Susy Linekar had died in a mall in Topeka and Fox had known she needed to do something else with her life. Her parents had never understood and she did not feel like bringing that up now. ‘Is there a local fabricator I can order from? I need a change of clothes, or two. How can Mom complain about the temperature in New York for God’s sake?’

‘Ha! Your mother’s so used to complaining about the metros that she couldn’t stop herself, even when she was cooing over the shops. Bought three new dresses while we were there.’

‘Yeah, what’s with that? I remember her in jeans and sweaters, respectable dresses in summer.’

‘Huh.’ He was silent for a little too long and then, ‘She got herself a new lease of life when I “retired” and she started up the politics. She’ll be showing off one of her new outfits tonight, I’d imagine. We have a few people coming over, you know, welcoming you back, sort of.’

Fox grimaced. ‘Oh, right…’

‘I tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined. You and her have always had a stubborn streak.’

‘Can’t argue that one, I guess. I’d say we know what we want. And I grew out of it, mostly.’

‘I’ll take that on advisement. Anyway, you’ll like some of the folks coming. Old Bart Wade’ll be there.’

‘He’s still alive?’

‘Ninety-three and still the same old curmudgeon. Had a bit of a scare a couple of years back. Had to have an artificial heart put in. He got his hips and knees replaced five years ago. He was slowing down a little before that. Doesn’t smoke as much as he did, but he still drinks like a fish. His liver will be next. Joke is he’ll be the first man in Topeka to have his whole body converted to cybernetics. He says he’s worth more as scrap than he is for anything else.’

‘I doubt that. I still remember him telling me stories on his front stoop.’

‘He still sits out there of a summer evening, watching the world go by. Some things change, but plenty stays the same as always.’

~~~

The house, a two-storey building of wood with shutters on the windows and broad, overhanging eaves, had not changed any since Fox had last seen it, though it looked to have been repainted where it needed it. It had been put up in the Revived Prairie School style and Jonathan had always liked the construction, solid, well-built, what he called ‘honest workmanship.’ There was still a garden at the back, and the trees set around the house did not seem any taller than they had been, or smaller for that matter.

There were a couple of new buildings on the plot, however. Some of the garden had been lost to a brick-built structure roofed to follow the same lines as the house. That had a garage at the front and a workshop at the back, which was going to be Pythia’s home for their stay. Behind the garden was a more workmanlike barn and where there had been scrub land down to the river, there were fields and a greenhouse.

There was space in the garage to house Pythia’s mobile frames, so they were unloaded quickly and then Fox supervised Pythia rolling onto the truck’s rear lift to proceed into the workshop. Pythia did not comment, despite not really needing the help, and the delaying tactic did not really work since Andrea came out after a few minutes.

It was Monday, nearing lunchtime, and Fox was happy to see that her mother seemed to have some sense since she was wearing a fairly simple, blue summer dress, though the pleated skirt was a little shorter than Fox remembered from her childhood.

‘Welcome home, Tara,’ Andrea said, smiling.

‘Thanks. It’s actually nice to be back. Once I’ve got Pythia hooked up to the mains, I’ll come in.’

‘Of course. That’s a very big box.’

‘Pythia’s a class three, but she’s very intelligent and, so I’m told, the basic code behind artificial intelligence doesn’t scale well. So for such a bright mind, you need a stupidly powerful processor.’

‘Oh, don’t tell Danny Berkewitz that. He won’t want to know there’s something, well, not quite right about the way they’re made.’

‘Huh,’ Fox grinned. ‘Dad said he’d joined the Church.’

‘
A
church, certainly. You know, he told me once that some of them believe that AIs are angels sent from God.’

‘Really? Kit, are you an angel sent from God?’

The foxy avatar appeared, looking a little perplexed. ‘If I am, no one mentioned it to me.’

‘I thought Kit was, um, “housed” in that server in your house,’ Andrea said.

‘I am, Mrs Meridian. However, I am able to spawn copies of myself which can act independently. The copy you are talking to executes on a quantum processor in Fox’s arm.’

‘In… your arm?’

Fox raised her right hand, wriggling her fingers. ‘Yeah. It’s cybernetic from just below the elbow.’

Andrea’s eyes widened and, for once, Fox saw what looked like genuine concern in her mother’s eyes. ‘When did that happen? The Army?’

‘No, February this year. My arm was crushed by a man with a grudge. MarTech arranged for it to be replaced since I was rescuing Terri Martins at the time. Good as new, maybe a little better and…’ She paused as Andrea moved forward, tentatively taking Fox’s hand in hers, fingers stroking over the artificial flesh. ‘And it’s really hard to tell the difference.’

‘When you went away,’ Andrea said, her voice slow and quiet, ‘I was so angry. And, yes, it was about going against what we believed, but it was worry too. I was worried about this, or a body bag. I didn’t want to see a man in a dress uniform standing on my doorstep one day. When we heard you’d gone into that bunker in Dallas… And then the relief when you got out of it. Now this…’

‘It’s okay.
I’m
okay. And I’m doing good things, things that matter. My work saved a girl from being raped and murdered, Mom. That was just last month.’

‘I just get worried, that’s all.’

‘Mom, you could be killed walking to the shops. Dad’s out there farming. Have you any idea what the statistics are on agricultural accidents?’

‘I’m all too aware,’ Andrea replied, her tone indicating that that particular argument had been done to death.

‘You don’t want to go there, Fox,’ Jonathan said as he emerged from the garage. ‘I plugged your box in. She’s got a sweet voice, and it’s kind of sweet you two holding hands.’

‘Her arm’s artificial, Jonathan.’

‘Not all of it,’ Fox said. ‘Look, let’s go in and get a drink. Something cold would be good. I’ll tell you the whole story. We have to catch up sometime, I guess, and I need a break before I go visit the Batesons.’

‘Lemonade then,’ Andrea said, turning without letting go of Fox’s hand.

~~~

The Batesons lived in a house about a kilometre to the north, near Big Shunga Park which was where they held the weekly market. A ranch-style house, wood frame with a yard out back. Fox had never been there, but she had met the Batesons once or twice. Dredging her memory, she had come up with vague images of them: a tall, rather stern man and a smaller, timid woman. There were the images, and an odd sense of unease.

She took one of the family Q-bugs up to the house. It was a quad-bike with a fairly powerful electric motor. She took it easy driving the thing because she had not ridden one in years. The on-board computer was just about good enough to handle the navigation task and Kit was exceptionally sarcastic about it.

‘Get me the local dealership, would you, Kit?’ Fox said as she pulled the Q-bug up and cut the engine. ‘I think one of these would go well on Pythia’s vertol, as ground transport. We can get something with a bigger processor.’

‘I think that would be wise, Fox,’ Kit replied, ‘and you can put it on company expenses.’

‘I thought that too. Now, let’s talk to the Batesons. Keep an eye out. There’s something about them… I don’t know. It’s a feeling that comes with the memories of them.’

‘Those are purely organic memories. I don’t have access to them unless you bring them out through your visual cortex.’

‘I know. I want impressions of what they’re like now. We’ll cross-reference later.’

The door opened before Fox got to it and she was presented with the timid woman she remembered: Crystal Anne Bateson, age 37. She looked older. She was a pretty woman, long blonde hair, and a figure which suggested bodysculpting or a lot of personal effort; there were no obvious signs of shaping about her that Fox’s image-enhancement software could pick up, so the lush curves were likely natural. There was, however, something for the imaging software to pick up: a darkening along her high, right cheekbone that was supposed to be covered by the blending foundation she had coated over a face which did not need cosmetics to look beautiful. But then people got bruises and they wore too much make-up. But the blue eyes were clouded, too old for the face.

‘Mrs Bateson, I’m Tara Meridian. I think my parents said I would be coming.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course. You’re going to find Sandy.’ Her voice was melodious, probably very nice when it was not flat, a drone of unemotional weariness. Fox decided that the heavy shadowing around the eyes was designed to hide the fact that Crystal Bateson had been crying. Not unreasonable. ‘My husband isn’t here yet. He’s on his way back.’ She looked reluctant to let Fox in without her husband being there.

‘Perhaps I could look around the outside of the house first. I’ll take a walk over to the market site and come back shortly.’

Relief, a slight smile. ‘Yes, of course.’

Fox heard the door close quickly behind her, ignored that and walked around the side to a gate which let her out onto a patio which ran along the back of the house. A sun lounger was set up there and there were planters filled with brightly coloured flowers. Along the wall of the house, broken by accesses to a door and a patio door, there were fairly narrow borders cut into the paving. Climbing roses went up from there.

Fox looked over the yard, and noted the towel which had been left on the lounger and the fussy, pristine planting. This was Crystal’s zone. She had been out in the sun this morning while her husband was out at work. Now she was back in the house, dressed in a smart, white blouse and a respectable-but-sexy, mid-thigh, pleated skirt, and wearing high-heels.

Scanning the windows suggested that Sandy had the room at the far end, just from the curtains Fox could see in the window: candy-pink did not suit the adults of the house. She walked over, scanning the frame. Since the drapes were closed, she could not see in, but her software brought her attention quickly to a partial bootprint in the soil of the bed under the window. Someone had stood here, perhaps looking in, and not that long ago, but then it could have been a cop doing what she was doing. ‘Kit, contact the local regional office and request an interview with the detective assigned to the case.’

‘Detective Rogers. I’ll send the request immediately, and task Pythia to scan the print, assuming we get permission from the Batesons.’

Fox smiled and headed back around the house and crossed the road. The park, and so the market site, was all of a hundred metres away, accessed via a short road with houses not unlike the one the Batesons lived in. There was a fair bit of similarity about the area: Fox figured this was the suburbia she had seen a few times, but never really been near. Behind the windows of identical boxes, the richer agricultural workers would be living identical lives. Or, at this time of day on a Monday, their wives would be. She could not recall the statistics and did not feel like asking Kit for them, but she was fairly sure the wives who worked in Topeka worked from home while the men went out to the fields. Not that farming was anywhere near as physically intensive now, and not that women could not handle it anyway, but some old habits died hard.