Tears in Rain (53 page)

“By all the damned species!”

She started to walk up the street, paying attention to the screens and seeing herself on many of them. Some were images that had been displayed earlier, when they were looking for her as an assassin: Bruna as Annie Heart, and Bruna as herself, going into the Majestic or into the HSP headquarters. But there were many more. She even saw the data on her own ID tag. And now they weren’t accusing her of anything—quite the opposite. Now the public screens were gushing with an exaggerated tale of heroism. At grave risk to her own life, Bruna Husky the technohuman had managed, on her own, to dismantle an extremely dangerous conspiracy. Technohumans were very good. Supremacists were very bad. And the Labarians and the Cosmics were extremely bad, always conspiring from on high to take control of Earth. Astonished, she connected to the news on her mobile, usually somewhat more reliable than the public screens, although only by a little. The conspiracy had collapsed like a house of cards. Various police officials, a horde of extremist heavies, several lawyers, a judge, and two people high up in the Central Archive, had been arrested. Chem Conés, the acting president of the region, was declaring emphatically that, with the invaluable assistance
of technohumans—loyal colleagues in the government and on the planet—he would get to the very bottom of this repugnant supremacist plot. It made Bruna ill to listen to all that fake waffle, that lying tale of a happy world, being trumpeted aloud with such effrontery by one of the most vicious of racists. Conés was going to save his own neck and his position, like so many other fanatics. Of course, foiling the conspiracy wasn’t going to put an end to supremacism, nor to the tension among the species, nor to the devious underground activities of Cosmos and Labari, always keen to destabilize the United States of the Earth and extend their power and influence over the planet.
But at least it’s a battle that has been won
, sighed Bruna. A breathing space. A reprieve.

The news was so exciting that the rep felt an impulse to call Lizard to talk over what was happening, but she held back. He hadn’t gotten in touch with her either. As she thought about the inspector, a small knot of unease lodged itself in her breast. Lizard had woken up very late; he’d had to leave in a hurry; they hadn’t made any arrangements. She didn’t even know for sure that they would see each other again. But then again, wasn’t she a bear? A solitary animal, just as the psych-guide had said. The one that didn’t live in a group or even with a partner.

“Better that way,” she said out loud. “Less possibility of confusion and making a fool of yourself.”

Four years, three months, and eight days.

Or maybe eight years, three months, and four days.

Bruna knew she was going to die, but perhaps she no longer knew the exact date.

She tried to contact Yiannis again. He still wasn’t answering. She had tried to get in touch with him a few times since she’d been released from jail. He never answered. At first, she hadn’t persisted. She assumed he was hiding, ashamed, and she herself was a bit annoyed with him for being such a bigmouth. But now the lack of any news of the archivist was starting to concern her. She decided to stop by his apartment.

She crossed Madrid with growing discomfort, because everyone was looking at her and pointing her out. She tried to take a cab, but because there was another sky-tram strike, all the cabs were taken. The world had gone back to being full of reps, as if they had emerged from under the rocks where they’d been hiding, and many of them greeted her like a long-lost friend as she went by. She began to feel really irritated.

Someone was moving out of Yiannis’s building. A busy crew of robot-movers was transporting boxes and furniture into a truck. She went up in the elevator with one of the robots, and they stopped on the same floor. Bruna had a terrible feeling. She went out onto the landing with the squeaking, metallic machine behind her and did, indeed, find Yiannis’s front door open and the apartment half-emptied. In the entry hall there was a blonde human wearing overalls, loading up the robots as they arrived. The one that had come up with the rep was given a small tower of stacked chairs.

“What’s going on here?”

The blonde looked at her as if she were an idiot.

“What do you think? A moving company, transport robots. And the answer to today’s mystery question is...” she said sarcastically, using the patter from a popular competition.

“What I mean is, I know the tenant, Yiannis Liberopoulos. I didn’t know he was moving. Where is he?”

“No idea.”

“Where’s the furniture going?”

“Nowhere. It’s not actually a move. It’s a sale. He’s sold the entire contents of his apartment. We’re emptying it.”

“What? But...that’s not possible.”

Her consternation was so obvious that the blonde softened and set about consulting the job information stored on her mobile. Four robots were lined up in front of her waiting to be loaded, making a slight tinkling sound as they idled.

“Here it is...Yes, Yiannis Liberopoulos. Just as I told you. Sale of entire contents. How odd...There’s no address for him,
no information about him. There is a contact person, a Bruna Husky. She’s the one who’s to be paid the money for the contents.”

“What?!”

The rep grabbed the woman’s hand and, giving it a tug, checked the screen of the mobile for herself.

“Hey!” protested the blonde.

Yes indeed, there was her name. The sole beneficiary of the sale. Bruna turned around and raced off. She thought she knew where Yiannis would be.

“You’re welcome, lady, you’re welcome!” she heard the blonde complaining behind her.

By the great Morlay, let me get there in time, please; let me get there in time
, the rep kept murmuring as she ran. She decided not to take the travelators because they were so congested that they’d slow her down, so she covered the distance as quickly as she could on foot. It was a punishing forty-minute run, and when she entered the Finis Building, she was out of breath. She headed for the reception desk in the middle of the lobby but spotted Yiannis before she reached it. He was sitting in one of the armchairs in the waiting room, gloomy and lost in thought. She went up to him and dropped down into the chair beside him.

“What are you doing here?” she panted.

The archivist jumped and gave her a startled look.

“Ah, Bruna...Well...I’m sorry...So...you see...”

And he gestured vaguely around him: the spacious, pretty waiting area done up in soft green colors, with intimate, indirect lighting, and peaceful music. A dozen other people—some on their own, some in couples—were scattered throughout the space, but apart from the background music, silence and an air of devotion reigned, as if the waiting area were a church. Finis was the biggest euthanasia company in the USE, and the only one operating in Madrid.

“Yes, I see. But the question is, what the hell are
you
doing here?”

“Well, that’s obvious. I’m no use for anything. I don’t like life. And I’m already very old.”

“Rubbish. You’re useful to me. I need you. Come on, let’s go. We’ll talk about it calmly, but outside. This place terrifies me.”

“It’s not true. I’m no use to you. They almost killed you because of me. I’m an old imbecile. I should have made this decision long ago.”

“Do you know what Merlín would have given to be able to go on living, damn it?!” Bruna howled in outrage.

Her shout reverberated around the lobby, and everyone stared at her. Two security guards rapidly headed her way.

“You have to leave right now. You’re disturbing the peace in this place.”

They were two solid combat reps. Bruna stood up calmly, feeling a barbaric, self-destructive joy.

“This is going to be amusing,” she muttered fiercely.

“No, no. Keep still. Calm down, please,” begged Yiannis, grabbing her arm.

And then, turning toward the guards, he said, “We’re going. We’re on our way right now.”

And so they were. They left Finis, walking side by side like two zombies, too agitated to talk. A few hundred feet farther along there was a tiny urban park, barely the size of a traffic circle. They headed toward it without thinking and sat down on a bench underneath a young birch tree. The tree was full of shoots. It was a lovely morning. February was one of the best months of the year; after that the heat started to become oppressive.

“See what a lovely day it is. It’s bad taste to want to kill yourself on such a beautiful day,” grumbled Bruna.

“I have nothing. I’ve given up my apartment. I’ve sold my furniture.”

“I know.”

“I’ve transferred all my money to you.”

“I’ll return it to you, don’t worry.”

They sat quietly for a short while.

“Everything’s happened so quickly: adolescence, youth, the death of my son, the rest of my life. One day you wake up and you’re an old man. And you can’t understand what’s happened. How quickly it’s all gone by.”

“If you don’t carry out any more idiocies like the one today, you’re still going to live longer than me. Don’t make me angry.”

“‘
Non ignoravi me mortalem genuisse
—I have always known I was mortal’; Cicero used to say that.”

“‘
Neque turpis mors forti vito potest accedere
—death is not ignominious for those who are strong.’ Also Cicero.”

The archivist looked at her, delighted.

“You remember!”

“Of course, Yiannis. You’ve taught me many things. I’ve already told you that you’re useful to me in all sorts of ways.”

They were silent again, but it was a companionable silence. Suddenly, Bruna visualized the seat they were sitting on, the circular garden, the city of Madrid, the Iberian Peninsula, the greenish-blue globe of the Earth, the small solar system, the multiarmed galaxy, the vast cosmic darkness dotted with constellations, red dwarves, and white giants...the entire universe. And in the middle of that indescribable immensity, she wanted to believe for just one moment in the consoling illusion that she wasn’t alone. She thought about Yiannis. And Maio and Mirari. About Oli. Even about Nopal. And in particular, she remembered Lizard, to whom she dedicated a very light thought, a barely there thought, holding her breath. There was a time to laugh, a time to embrace. Although bears might only come together to mate, maybe she would be different in this, too.

“Well,” sighed the old man. “Then I’ll have to see if I can rent my apartment again, And I’ll go to the archive to see if they’ll rehire me now that everything’s over. Although, you know—and I’m not saying that I want to kill myself, not anymore—but there’s something marvelous about getting rid of oneself. That supreme
liberty of ceasing to be who you are. Putting myself back in my old existence seems quite depressing to me.”

“Then don’t do it. Find yourself another apartment. And work with me. I’m suggesting that you become my business partner.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. You know a lot about everything and you’re very good at research, comparing information, and analyzing things logically. We’d make a formidable team.”

Yiannis smiled.

“It would be fun.”

“It will be fun.”

The public screen closest to them started to broadcast some breaking news: “Parliament has declared that it is illegal to charge for clean air.” Yiannis gave a small shout of joy.

“You see. I told you. We mustn’t give up hope! We mustn’t stop pushing for things to improve!”

Even Bruna was impressed, although the rep wasn’t as convinced as the archivist. The owners of the clean air would undoubtedly find some loophole, and the Zero Air Zones would continue to be miserable, contaminated ghettos that poor people would have real difficulty leaving. But even so, the constitutional resolution was very important. Bruna had been able to experience a fundamental social change in her short rep life after all. With a bit of luck, perhaps even that child deported by the tax police would experience one, too.

“Congratulations, Yiannis. You’re going to be very useful to me. So let’s test your powers of deduction: Why me?”

“Why you?”

“Yes. Why did RoyRoy pick me?”

“I don’t know. Let me see...Well, you’re a combat rep; you look pretty terrifying with that line that divides you; you suited her purposes very well from a media point of view in terms of what she wanted to achieve; you’re a detective, so it was likely
you’d have weapons...And besides, it gave Habib an excuse to hire you. In fact, you had the perfect profile. It could be that they used a profile search program and your file came up.”

Ah yes, the ubiquitous electronic affinity programs. People used them all the time to find employees, carpenters, lovers, friends. Yes, maybe Yiannis was right; maybe she had found herself caught up in this nightmare thanks to a stupid, blind machine. There was always a degree of banality in every tragedy.

“It’s a good hypothesis. You see. You did really well. Shall we go to Oli’s bar to celebrate?”

As she got up, Bruna noticed that there was something on the ground next to the bench. She moved it with the tip of her shoe. It was a torn, dirty 3-D poster: “Repent!—February 3—The End of the World.” The words flashed faintly, almost out of power. It was one of the banners belonging to the Apocalyptics.

“Today is the third, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Bruna looked around her. The splendid morning, the peaceful garden.

“Well, it looks like the world isn’t ending today after all,” said the rep.

“I think not.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”