Perion Synthetics (29 page)

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve worked my
entire life in pursuit of a dream and I’m sure as hell not going out before I
see a synthetic in every home. I need you two to make sure I live long enough
to make it happen. You do this, and generations of Hubers and Bhenderus will
never want for anything. I guarantee it.”

“This is not about compensation,” said
Bhenderu.

“Then what?” asked Perion. “What do I have
to promise you to make you find me a goddamn solution?”

“Nothing, Mr. Perion. You need only ask. My
team will redouble their efforts and perfect the imprint process by the end of
the month.”

Perion nodded as if he had expected no other
answer. “And what about you, Chuck?”

The architect shook his head. “We can try
going with another manufacturer, but synaptic density has a finite ceiling, and
no other system exists for converting an energy-based storage system to a
digital one. I’ll lean on Katsumi and scrape their R&D department. We should
have prototypes by this time next month, if not sooner.”

“We’ll need to imprint before the end of
August, while I can still think straight. I’d like to be in a new body as soon
as possible after that. I’m not going to make any public appearances once my
looks start to go.”

If he had meant it as a joke, no one
laughed.

“Then we have work to do,” said Chuck. “And
zero time.” He stood and looked down at Bhenderu, waiting for him to follow.

“I will send you daily updates,” said the
doctor. “I promise results soon.”

“Would you bet my life on it?” asked Perion.

Neither of the men answered. They paused to
look upon the titan and then shuffled out of the room together, already
discussing their plan of attack.

“Roberta, directive,” said Chuck, from the hallway.
“Come.”

The synthetic closed the door behind her,
and then it was just father, son, and Nico.

Silence rose; the energy drained from James
Perion’s face as he looked to the window.

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” he asked.

Joe was too caught up in the buttons of his
shirt to respond.

“What does?” asked Nico.

“That,” said Perion, nodding to the horizon.
“You have to wonder how it will look with synthetic eyes, how the whole world
will feel.”

“Does it scare you?”

Joe gave Nico a stern look, but couldn’t
hold it.

“No, Mr. Shaw. I’m not scared. Just
curious.” He drifted away for a moment. “You’ll keep this between us, won’t
you? This is a delicate situation and will need to be handled as such. Not
everyone will be privy to what you’ve heard here today. Not even Mrs. Shaw.”

Nico thought about his wife, about how they
rarely shared anything anymore. Usually it was Katherine sitting in on the big
meetings, holding privileged information over his head. This time, Nico would
know the
big plan
, a plan that if executed correctly, would never come
to light.

The moment of pride ended with an abrupt
realization.

The old man was dying. The titan was
falling.

“Of course,” said Nico. “Strictly between
us.”

“That’s a good man,” said Perion.

Nico scribbled a final note on his palette.

The only man worthy of succeeding James
Kirkland Perion is James Kirkland Perion.

Dad was all but gone by November.

Joe watched his father labor for breath from
a chair by the window.

In just a few short months, the cancer had
thinned James Perion’s gray hair, hollowed out his cheeks, and relegated him to
his bed for the remainder of his life. The morning strolls through the halls of
the Spire were a thing of the past, as were the lengthy moments spent at the
window in his study, staring out over the empire he had created, visualizing
the people and cars as cogs in his massive machine. Dad was like that, able to
macro and micro simultaneously, to stay involved where others would call in
subject matter experts. His hands-on approach at every level of the business
was what most people agreed had given him the edge over the already established
Vinestead International.

All he needed were a few more years, more
time to unseat Vinestead through sheer determination and market reach.

The synthetics program was going to be the
catalyst.

“How am I doing?” asked Synth J, as he
entered from the living room.

Joe looked up from his palette and shrugged
at the facsimile of his father. The synthetic James Perion had been running the
company for three months, and so far the only person not sold on the imprint
was Joe. For all matters business, Synth J seemed to have everything under
control. He made decisions like Dad and evangelized like Dad, but when it came
to interacting with his son, the artificiality always bubbled to the surface.

Sometimes the real James Perion appeared
like a ripple on the synthetic’s face, but those moments had become more
infrequent as the months wore on. Those brief flashes of Dad only highlighted
his replacement’s artificiality.

“He can’t be rushed anymore,” said Joe,
motioning to the code cards on the table beside the bed. He had tried several
variants, from Margate sewer synth to the high-class Euphony couriered direct
from Umbra. “The nurse started him on a morphine drip. It won’t be very long
now.”

Synth J put his hands in his pockets. “I can
imagine myself in his position, but I can’t feel what it would be like. Is that
strange?”

“You downloaded your brain into a synthetic.
What did you expect?”

“Wait until you’re on this side. Then you’ll
see.” He took the chair by the door and pulled out his palette. His fingers
moved faster than the touch tracking could keep up with, making him curse under
his breath.

“What makes you think I’ll ever cross over?”

Synth J appeared not to be listening. Some
of the finer points of courtesy had been lost in the transition from human to
synthetic.

“That will be your choice, of course,” said
Synth J, rejoining the conversation. “But by the time the choice becomes necessary,
I think you’ll find yourself more receptive to the idea.”

“Right,” said Joe. “As if people are going
to accept the idea of immortality through synthetics. Do you have any idea how
Vinestead is going to spin this?”

“Vinestead will be knocking down our door
trying to get the spec. We have to be ready for them.” He looked to the side,
as if pondering something. “At any rate, you should probably start making
regular backups so Mr. Huber can perfect his imprint process. I won’t lose you
to a random accident, Joseph.”

Dad stirred in his bed, seemed to come to
for a moment, but then closed his eyes again.

Joe shook his head. “If anyone finds out
what we’re doing here, it’ll be the lawyers knocking the door down. It won’t
matter how close you are with Governor Howard; even he won’t be able to stop
the government from seizing your assets. Or transferring them to me.”

“I would not bat an eye if they did,” said
Synth J. “My legacy is yours, but there is power in me yet. I can still
contribute. As for property law, of course there is no provision for
inheritance by a synthetic replacement; the same used to be true for women and
minorities. But how can they not accept me as an equal? Look at me.”

He stood with an ease Dad would never know
again.

“They did it! Those crazy bastards actually
found a solution to a no-win situation. Vinestead thinks they get to choose who
lives and dies in this country, but that changed with me.”

“Yeah, so you’re golden, but what about
him?”

Synth J turned to his ailing counterpart,
his enthusiasm fading. “I can’t even see myself in him anymore. I’m not
entirely convinced I’m still in there. Regardless, we all die. Your mother
passed, I will pass. It used to be we lived on in memory or in the fruits of
our labor. I’ve simply found another way to persevere.”

Joe stood and approached the bed. His
father’s hand had been reduced to bone and sinewy tendons that stood in relief
under translucent skin. How many times had he felt that hand on his shoulder,
in comfort and in anger? Now, the frail fingers could provide neither. Joe
placed his hand on his father’s.

Dad’s eyes fluttered.

“He’s still in there,” said Joe. “He’s still
Dad. You’re a recording he left behind, a notebook we found stashed in his
desk.
This
is James Perion.”

Dad was the only true ruler of this empire.

“Maybe you’ll feel differently after he’s
gone. If I could bring your mother back, even for a day, would you want me to?”

“That’s different. It wasn’t her choice to
die. You could have saved yourself, saved
him
.”

“And let Vinestead into the city at the same
time?” The synthetic’s voice didn’t pitch like a human’s when it got angry. It
sounded more like a recording of someone screaming played back at a low volume.
“I’ve told you before how dangerous that would be. They’re the only company in
the world that brazenly sells one thing and delivers another. All they want to
do is exploit people. I’m trying to
help
people.”

“So was Dad. And I admire him for that. “

“What about me?”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”

The bedroom doors opened before Synth J
could respond. Nico Shaw entered, followed by Robert Gantz. Joe noticed the
trembling at the edges of Nico’s mouth. His assistant was rushing more and more
these days.

“Chief Gantz is here to see you, Mr. Perion,”
said Nico.

“And you brought him
here
?” asked
Joe.

Nico returned a plaintive smile. “Your
father asked me to.”

Joe looked to the bed. There was too much
morphine in Dad’s system to get any kind of confirmation.

“He means me,” said Synth J. “I asked him to
bring in Chief Gantz because it’s time he understood what we’re up against.”

Gantz stood just inside the threshold of the
door and stared at the bed and the dying man in it. “What am I looking at, Joe?”

“James Kirkland Perion, the original,” said
Synth J. “I am his replacement, James Kirkland Perion, the Second.”

“I don’t understand,” said Gantz.

Synth J put his palette down on the bed.
“All you need to know is that the human James Perion is dying and that I, his
synthetic replacement, have assumed control of the company. And it’s because of
that look on your face right now that I’ve called you in today. When he dies,
and yes, he is going to die, I expect some people will have a hard time
accepting my assumption of his life, on both legal and moral grounds. I intend
to change that.”

Gantz moved to the foot of the bed; he had
yet to blink.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making the sign of the
cross.

“For what?” asked Synth J.

“Joe, I’m sorry.”

Gantz held his hand out; Joe shook it.

“Your father is a good man.”

Joe had never known Robert Gantz to get emotional,
and yet the chief of police’s eyes showed hints of watering.

“Thank you. Dad always liked your style. He
had nothing but respect for you.”

Synth J gave a nervous laugh. “Guys, come
on, I’m still here. I
still
like your style, Mr. Gantz. That’s why I
want you in on this, to give you a heads up.”

The chief turned to Synth J and sized him
up. After another glance at Dad, he said, “You made the switch months ago,
didn’t you? All this time, you’ve been pretending to be him.”

“I
am
him.”

“And nobody knows besides us?”

“A few people, but you should assume
everyone is in the dark,” said Synth J. “For all the world knows, I’m alive and
well. That is the current reality. In time, that may change, which is why I’ve
decided to call in a favor with an old friend. An aggregator will be arriving
tomorrow.”

“Will I be babysitting this aggregator?”

“No. He will require a softer touch. Ms.
Kessler will be handling it. She will keep the aggregator on task during his
visit. I just wanted you to be aware in case anything gets out of hand.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Gantz?”

“Why bring an aggregator into the city?
We’ve got corporate secrets walking the streets and you just want to put it all
up on the feed for the world to see?”

Synth J smiled what it considered Dad’s
friendly smile. “I’m sorry you’ve mistaken this for a discussion, Mr. Gantz. My
decision is final. Your job is to maintain order in my city, so I think you can
handle one little aggregator.”

“Which house?” asked Nico. His neck was
covered in red gashes from the constant scratching.

“Banks Media, obviously,” said Synth J. “We
have no contacts within Lincoln Continental and I wouldn’t trust this task to a
hick like Benny Coker.”

Dad never would have talked like that. Joe
wondered if his father could hear the conversation beneath the blanket of
morphine.

Gantz crossed his arms. “Ms. Kessler is just
a flack. I don’t know if that’s a good—”

“No one is more dedicated to the success of
Perion Synthetics than Ms. Kessler, immediate company excluded. For this
particular job, that is exactly what I need.”

Synth J grabbed his palette and started for
the door. “You just keep an eye on the both of them and make sure the
aggregator stays on the primrose path. Any deviation and you shut the whole
thing down.”

“Meaning what?” asked Gantz.

Synth J didn’t even pause at the door as he
left.

Gantz stared after the synthetic with his
hands on his hips. Finally, he threw them up and cursed.

“Your father has lost some of his touch,” he
grumbled.

“My father is too much changed,” said Joe.

“Right, well, don’t worry. He’ll be going to
a better place soon. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on whoever Banks Media
sends over. If he even
thinks
of feeding something unflattering, I’ll
boot him so hard he’ll have a shoeprint on his ass for a week.” He checked his
sliver and must have seen something he didn’t like. “Fuck all. I’ve got to run.
Drinks later?” He glanced at the bed again.