Feersum Endjinn (23 page)

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Authors: Iain M. Banks

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And, at last, his fellow Consistorians had finally agreed that it was time to act against the conspiracy they had known existed for the last five years.
That ... was being dealt with satisfactorily.
Chief Scientist Gadfium and her staff left the office of the High Sortileger with the issue of the stray crypt signals still not resolved. They returned to the Great Hall the following day and ascended to the Lantern Palace so that Gadfium could attend the weekly cabinet briefing. Gadfium found these meetings exasperating; they were supposed to keep people up to date with developments and help facilitate actions which might be of use in the current emergency, but so far all they ever seemed to do was pander to some of the attendees’ feelings of self-importance and produce vast amounts of talk that substituted for deeds rather than leading to them.
Nevertheless, with that familiar feeling that she was wasting her breath on matters more easily - and far more quickly - dealt with by reference to the data corpus, she outlined her opinions on the various issues she had been involved with during the past seven days, including the progress on the oxygen works, the odd pattern formed on the Plain of Sliding Stones and the worrying irregularities in the Cryptosphere which were making the Sortileger’s predictions unreliable.
The meeting - in a fair approximation of the Hall of Mirrors in ancient Versailles - was attended in person by most of the participants including the King and Pol Cserse for the Cryptographers, though Heln Austermise, the second Consistory member, was at the rocketry test site at Ogooué-Maritime and so represented at the meeting by her court attaché, and speaking through him. He was a slim, middle-aged man in a tight-fitting court uniform; Gadfium suspected Rasfline - sitting behind her along with Goscil - would look like this man when he was older.
‘Nevertheless, Chief Scientist, the tests with both the direct-lift and aerofoil-assist vehicles are proceeding as planned,’ the attaché said. It was his own voice; the only sign that it was not his thoughts and volition producing it was that he sat very still, with none of the usual shiftings and fidgets people tended to exhibit. Gadfium had long since ceased to find it odd talking to somebody who wasn’t there through somebody who - in a sense - wasn’t there either.
‘I don’t doubt it, ma’am,’ Gadfium said. ‘But some of us are a little concerned at the lack of raw data being provided. The critical nature of this project—’
‘I’m sure the Chief Scientist appreciates the importance of retaining the prophylactic distance we have been fortunate enough to achieve from the chaos of the Cryptosphere,’ the attaché said.
Gadfium paused before replying. She glanced at some of the others seated around the long table; the group was made up of the King, Consistorian Cserse, Austermise’s attaché, representatives of other important clans and various civil servants, technicians and scientists. Gadfium thought the King - dressed soberly in a white shirt, black hose and tunic - looked bored in a handsome and elegant way.
Probably crypting somewhere more interesting.
‘Indeed, ma’am,’ Gadfium said, and sighed. She was starting to lose patience. ‘I’m not sure I follow. Sending us data can pose no threat to—’
‘On the contrary,’ the attaché said. ‘If the Chief Scientist will consult with Consistory member Cserse, she will perhaps be reminded that recent cryptographic research indicates that the transmission of chaotic data virus is possible through interface-handshakes and error-checking mechanisms. Even the link through which I am talking to you now cannot be guaranteed totally proof against such contamination.’
‘I thought that there were comparatively simple, fully mathematically provable programs which could deal with—’
‘I think madam Chief Scien—’
‘Kindly
allow me to finish a
sentence,
madam!’ Gadfium shouted. That woke the King up. Others around the table moved as though uncomfortable. The attaché appeared utterly unruffled.
‘I understood,’ Gadfium said icily, ‘that this problem had been dealt with.’
At the end of the table, Adijine sat up a little in his seat. It was enough to turn every eye to him. ‘Perhaps madam Chief Scientist would like to detail the nature of her concerns regarding the lack of raw data?’ he said, smiling at her.
Gadfium felt herself blush. This often happened when she addressed Adijine. ‘Sir, I’m sure those in the facility at Ogooué-Maritime are exemplary in their dedication and scrupulousness. However I do feel that an independent check on their results might ensure that this project - of potentially vital importance, as I’m sure we all agree - ’ she glanced again at the others, looking for and receiving a few nods ‘—is beyond reproach in terms of its methodology and hence the reliability of its results.’
The King was sitting forward, pinching his lower lip between his fingers and looking absorbed by what she was saying.
‘I would also suggest that regardless of their precautions it can anyway only be a matter of time before their data corpora are contaminated by nanotech chaos-carriers.’
‘I think if the Chief Scientist inquires of Consistory member Cserse—’ the attaché began.
‘Thank you, Madam Consistorian,’ the King said, smiling broadly and nodding as though in encouragement as he interrupted her. ‘I believe Gadfium may have a point,’ Adijine continued, frowning a little and looking at Cserse. ‘I think perhaps if we form a sub-committee to investigate data-transmission security and viral protection ...’
Cserse nodded and looked wise. He turned to an aide and whispered to her, and she nodded too, sitting back and closing her eyes.
Adijine smiled at Gadfium. She showed her teeth and tried to look grateful, meanwhile biting back on the urge to scream.
 
‘Another triumph for the decision-making process,’ Gadfium said as she, Rasfline and Goscil exited to the antechamber. The briefing had finished and the group was splitting up, breaking into smaller groups of people standing in the Hall of Mirrors itself or the antechamber beyond. Gadfium usually hung around at this point too - it was now, as well as before such briefings, that real decisions were occasionally arrived at - but on this occasion she doubted her ability to remain polite if she had to talk to some of those she imagined might want to speak with her.
‘I thought you made your points very well, ma’am,’ Rasfline said quietly as they passed between the mirrored doors.
‘Maybe,’ Goscil said, brushing hair from her face. ‘But the rocket people hate being reminded their fancy computers are going to catch chaos too.’
‘Their precautions have worked so far,’ Rasfline said.
Goscil snorted. ‘They’ve only been up and running properly for the last year, and even then with minimal real input until two months ago. I give them three months, maximum, before something gets them.’
‘You seem quite an expert in data contamination,’ Rasfline told her, smiling at her and then at Consistorian Austermise’s attaché, who was talking to a high-rank civil servant.
Goscil ignored the insult. ‘There are nanotechs you can
exhale,
Ras; chaos-carriers that can float in an aerosol or crawl out of a skin pore.’
‘Still,’ Rasfline said, ‘Ogooué-Maritime has avoided such infection so far; perhaps it will continue to do so.’
‘Three months,’ Goscil said. ‘Want to bet on it?’
‘Thank you, no. I believe gambling to be a pastime for the weak-minded.’
Gadfium looked round the various groups of people in the antechamber, the feeling of frustration building up inside her again. ‘Oh, let’s just go,’ she said.
Rasfline smiled. Goscil scowled.
 
‘Madam wishes a copy of herself made?’
‘That’s right. A construct, for the crypt.’
Gadfium had given herself, Rasfline and Goscil the rest of the day off. Rasfline had probably gone to socialise with some of the people they’d left in the Hall of Mirrors’ antechamber. Goscil was doubtless crypting fresh data on some arcane subject. Gadfium had gone to change from her court clothes into something less formal in her apartment and then made her way to the Palace’s Galleria, a shopping complex modelled after part of twentieth-century Milan where the court elite could indulge themselves. She had been here only once before, five years earlier, when she had first been summoned to the Lantern Palace to be Adijine’s tame white-coat. She had been slightly disgusted by the snooty opulence of the place and its too-obviously perfect clientele then and felt no different now, but she had a plan to execute.
She sat in the subtly lit boutique - a traumparlour by any other name - sipping coffee over an antique onyx table.
‘With what purpose in mind, might one ask?’ asked the sales girl.
‘Sex,’ Gadfium told her.
‘I see.’ The shop assistant had called herself a sales executive and was probably the daughter of some clan chief; this would be her societal apprenticeship, Gadfium expected; the equivalent of one of the genuinely shitty jobs young people from the lower orders were expected to take on before they were allowed to enjoy themselves. The girl looked fashionably delicate and stainlessly steely at the same time. She was dressed in red, wearing what looked like a one-piece swim suit, large boots and wrist muffs. Her skin glowed like polished chestnut, her body was flawless and her ice-blue eyes looked out over cheekbones Gadfium fancied a chap might cut himself on.
‘I’m too busy for a real affair,’ Gadfium told her, ‘and anyway the other party is also Privileged and physically distant, so we want constructs made which can have fun on our behalf and then download the rosy afterglow, or whatever.’ Gadfium smiled and slurped her coffee deliberately. The girl winced, then smiled professionally and patted her tied-back black hair, held in place by a red comb which - assuming the girl was Privileged - was probably a receptor device.
‘Madam does realise that there are potential recompatibility problems, over time, with constructs made from Privileged persons.’
‘Yes I do, especially with the kind of full-mind construct I’d like. But I am decided, and that is what I want.’
‘Full-mind constructs are particularly prone to developing independence and becoming incompatible.’
‘It only has to last a few weeks in crypt-time; a couple of months, maximum.’
‘The contiguity-expectancy may indeed be of that order,’ the girl said, looking troubled and recrossing her long legs with what Gadfium could only think of as a flourish. ‘Most people would not be happy with a self-construct becoming independent over such a time-frame, especially in a romantic context.’
Gadfium smiled. ‘Most people aren’t realists,’ she said. She put her coffee down. ‘When can we do it?’
‘Madam has the permission of her clan?’ the girl asked, sounding dubious.
‘I’m seconded to the Palace; I think you’ll find I have all necessary authorisation.’
‘There is also the question of ... discretion,’ the girl said, smiling thinly. ‘While of course not illegal, strictly speaking, the service madam is requesting is not one it is generally thought best to publicise widely. Madam would be requested to make an undertaking to the effect that she would restrict knowledge of her acquisition strictly to those of her own standing whom she is certain could have no objection to the process involved.’
‘Discretion is the whole point of this,’ Gadfium said. ‘Only myself and the other party would know.’
‘The process will utilise the neuro-lattice which would normally only be activated on madam’s quietus. This is the device which—’
‘Yes, I know what it does.’
‘I see. There is some danger ...’
‘I’ll risk it, dear.’
 
Another Gadfium woke, looking out through the eyes of the original. This must be a bit how old Austermise feels, they both thought, and experienced the other’s thoughts as an echo.
The view was of a gently lit booth lined with curtains of intricate design. She was in some reclined seat, her neck and head held firmly but comfortably. There were two people standing looking down at her; a serious-looking older woman in a white coat, and the young lady in red.
‘Madam’s very first memory, again?’ the older woman said.

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