The Lead Cloak (The Lattice Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

Shaw was gobsmacked.

“What you saw in that skyscraper in East Rome was the creation of a cartel. They wouldn’t call it that, and I bet you all the money in the world that no court will call it that either, should a case against them even get to their docket. But that’s what happened. And this dome is its logical conclusion. Those four companies—and now Altair, of course, making five—will never have competition from anyone else once the shielding is in place.”

“Did Altair help fund the shielding?”

“Of course. Grace Williams was an outsider three years ago, and she’s still seen as something of an eccentric right now. But she’s the CEO of a company that makes Lattice readers, and Lattice readers need entangled particles. The supply she found in Vegas will run out eventually. She had to help fund it.”

Shaw felt a pang of disappointment that he realized was probably entirely irrational.

“Just because she surfs and seems cool, doesn’t mean she’s looking out for the world,” Taveena said. “That’s sloppy thinking.”

“I know. You can always hope, though.”

“What do you think? Regardless of Grace Williams.”

“So they’re trying to limit competition? And they’re spending a boatload to do it. Seems a stretch to equate that with … what did you call it? Wielding technology to oppress humanity?”

“This is just a cartel. But the technological elites are much bigger than just them. You, for example.”

Shaw tried hard not to scoff.

“Laugh if you want. But the only reason you don’t see it is because you’re part of it. You can’t see how unfair the system is, because you’re the beneficiary of all its privileges.”

“I think I’m a long way from being privileged.”

“Privilege comes in all shapes and forms. Let me try to put it in different terms for you. Take a guess, how many people—no, let’s say how many
adults
—have used the Lattice?”

“Nearly all of them I’d think.”

“And you’d be right. Even the poorest people on Earth have at some point used a device that was connected to the Lattice, even if it was just an old tablet. But of course, you and I both know that using the Lattice as a viewer on a tablet or a wrap is very different from the immersive experience of a jumpbox or a ring. What percentage of the world do you think has jumped?”

“Probably less, but still a lot. Eighty percent?”

“More like fifty percent, but yes—still a whole lot. Just over seven billion people. So what percentage of people do you think actually own their own jumpbox or ring?”

“Thirty?”

“Try more like eight percent of the entire world.”

“What? You’re joking. I feel like everyone owns a box or a ring these days.”

“Everyone in your very limited, very privileged sphere, yes. But most people can’t begin to afford them. That ring you have is the single best-selling device for jumping. You know how many they’ve sold? Less than two hundred million. That’s what, less than two percent of the world’s population? Your ring puts you in the top two percent of the entire world.”

Shaw shook his head firmly. “You’re not going to make me feel guilty for living in a developed country. I know not everyone has the same luxuries I do. But they’re getting there. Eventually they’ll catch up. A lot already have. Twenty years ago, who knew Kenya was going to be the economic power it is? Or Kyrgyzia? Feeling bad because someone doesn’t have an Altair ring and has to make do with a jump box isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I’m not just talking about rich people and poor people. I’m talking about … I’m talking about giving the poor just a hint of what they’re missing out on, and not giving them a chance to ever experience it again! I’m talking about a technology that can jump into the thoughts of those who can’t afford to use it, and then market to them! I’m talking about—”

“Hold on just a second. Start with the first one. The hint.”

“I guess we can keep this tour going.”

Jump.

Shaw was looking at an old African man being gently helped out of a jump box. The hi-tech box looked distinctly out of place in the shack that housed it. “This man just completed his first jump,” Taveena said. “Where do you think he jumped?”

The man was thin, toothless, and bald. He was ancient.

“I haven’t the foggiest.”

“His youth, of course. He spent ten minutes there. He watched himself run around, he was in his own thoughts for almost half the time. There was a girl he had a crush on but she moved away, and he got to see her again for the first time in eighty years.”

“That sounds like a nice memory.”

“A nice
memory
, yes. But to revisit? It destroyed him. The girl wasn’t how he’d remembered. And his thoughts and feelings were still shockingly the same. After he leaves here, he’ll spend most of his time wondering if he’s grown, if he’s wasted all these years. Wondering if he should have done more with his life. But it’s too late.”

They jumped again.

There was a giant plain, and some large elk or cattle but Shaw didn’t recognize them. Central Asia somewhere? A man in his twenties or thirties was alone, watching them, weeping.

“This man, on the other hand, had one of the best experiences you can imagine in a jump. He saw big cities he can’t afford to travel to. He went to Jupiter. He went back in time and listened to Muhammad preach in Mecca. He was elated.”

“And?”

“And he’s weeping because he won’t be able to afford another jump for at least ten years. Most people who have jumped can only afford to rent a box for one or two jumps
in their entire lifetime
. It’s just too expensive for them. In the U.S. or Europe, it’s not that much, compared with what people make. But the fees in the poorest parts of the world are so out of scale with what they earn, that they can’t go more often than that.”

“Listen—”

“Do you remember your first jump, Byron?”

Shaw couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. I jumped back in time. Ancient Rome. I was going through a phase, where that was all I cared about. I saw a few battles, and then watched Caesar’s assassination.”

Jump.

Shaw saw himself at age twelve, emerging from a jump box. His dad was there, and the young Shaw threw his arms around him, laughing and smiling.

“It was so different
seeing
the phalanx and watching them advance on me. It was hard to remember that they couldn’t hurt me, it just seemed so real! The Gauls didn’t have a chance. And to see Caesar in his tent! He looked younger than I expected. And waging war was so primitive back then. He had no idea what was going on! He had to wait for it to finish.”

Young Shaw and his father walked away and left the two avatars.

“The first boxes had just come out,” Shaw said, his heart swelling at the memory. “We stood in line for hours to try one.”

“And it was the most incredible thing you’d ever experienced, wasn’t it?”

“Have you ever seen a happier kid?”

“Exactly. And you got to keep jumping every few months, and then every few weeks. Eventually, your parents got a box at home.”

“A few years later.”

“Could you imagine if you’d known that your first jump was possibly your last? Or at least, your only taste until you could save up enough to go again in five years? How would it feel to have the best experience of your life, and know it will take years to feel it again? Does that sound fair to you?”

“It’s … it’s too bad, certainly. At least they still get to try it. It’s not like the technology’s being
kept
from them.”

Taveena stared at him like he was the most callous man in the world. “No, that might be more humane. Instead, not only do the corporations give them a taste, but they market to them at the same time. Most of the rented jump boxes have ads in them. You probably never have had to deal with it, but most of the ones that are affordable to the poorest people are only affordable because they have the ad space. Most jumpers who don’t have their own box have to sit through a minute of ads for every ten minutes of jump time.”

“I don’t like ads, but they’re not the worst thing in the world.”

“Let’s try one, shall we?”

Jump.

Shaw was in someone’s thoughts. A man. Drinking some bottled fruit cocktail on a beach. The drink was as refreshing as he’d ever felt. The sweetness of the drink, his thirst finally being quenched. There was a woman next to him, beautiful, smiling, with eyes only for him.

He offered her the bottle, and she shook her head, her beautiful hair catching on her shoulder. “I’ve got another one,” she said, and spun the lid off of it. He went back to drinking, with thoughts of mango and sex and sun and the ocean. It was intoxicating, and it was just a drink.

The ad ended and Shaw realized he’d been holding his breath.

“How do you feel?” Taveena asked.

“Thirsty,” he laughed, trying to pass it off as a joke. But it wasn’t. He was parched. And he wanted that drink. “Where do they find these people?”

“Somewhere, someone beautiful is enjoying a product and thinking that it’s the best thing they’ve ever had. These ads are so powerful because they’re actually in your brain. They can make you crave something you never even knew existed before you jumped. Before I died, I always ordered those drinks because of that one damn ad, and you probably will too after we’re done.

“To top everything off, manufacturers are searching the thoughts of their clients trolling for product ideas. They’re
stealing
ideas
from people’s heads and creating new products without giving credit or payment.”

“You can’t patent a whiff of an idea, especially if it’s just sitting in your head,” Shaw countered.

“No?”

Jump.

A group of young men were in a rowdy bar with low ceilings and tall steins of beer. They were speaking French, laughing and drinking, and stealing glances across the bar to a table of young women.

Shaw did a double-take. One of the men was noticeably shorter than the others, and Shaw realized he knew his face, though it looked fifteen years younger than the last time he’d seen it … which was as recent as breakfast. “Jpeg.”

“These are his friends, come home for a school reunion. They all went to school all over the world and got glamorous jobs, but he was stuck at home in Montreal. No school would take him. Discipline issues, multiple expulsions, and terrible academics. I don’t give much credence to Tranq’s wounded machismo bit, but in Jpeg’s case he’s on the mark. Jpeg’s aggressive behavior flagged him early, and put him on a track he could never break out of. The Canadian military wouldn’t even take him. Best he could do was become a janitor in places it was too costly to send a drone. It was a loss for everyone, because he can build practically anything if he puts his mind to it.”

Shaw found it hard to get past the knowledge that Jpeg could spare his life if he wanted to, but the young man at the table had a joyous smile, and he looked so happy to be around his friends again. The young version of himself was rather winning, Shaw thought.

“What are we doing at the bar with his friends?”

“Listen.”

“My French is a little rusty …”

They jumped again, and they were inside Jpeg’s head, looking out on his friends with his eyes and his thoughts. The sense of loss was overwhelming. The joy of being out with friends again after years of loneliness, but tinged with the regret that it could only last a few days. During a time when people rarely had to do manual labor, where there were opportunities for so many kinds of jobs and lifestyles, Jpeg had somehow found himself with the kinds of options you would expect from someone in the 1800s.

His friend was talking directly to him, describing some principle of aeronautics, judging by how he swooped his hand in front of him, like a bird on the wind. Jpeg was nodding along, hanging on every word.

And then there it was.

The same sense of illumination Shaw remembered when he’d jumped into Einstein’s mind and saw the special theory of relativity form. A single thought, an image more than anything else. It was an almost perfectly envisioned slingshot station like the one at home at Lambert Field.

Jpeg’s mind was a rapid flash of images. The mechanical slingshot, the ultralight glider, the minimal thrusters to keep it aloft and for guidance. He saw—all at once—how such a system with such low energy use could revolutionize personal travel and make it affordable.

Jpeg laughed. He saw it all, his eyes staring out into space.

“
Quoi
?” asked his friend.

Jpeg shook his head and waved him off. “
Ce n'est rien. Une idée
.”

“It’s nothing. An idea,” Taveena translated.

“Jpeg really did invent the slingshot?”

“No,” Taveena said. “Weren’t you the one to just say that an idea can’t be patented?” Jpeg’s friend was watching him over the rim of his beer, but Jpeg didn’t notice. He was still in his head, enamored.

“His friend jumped back to this moment later that night, curious. He discovered Jpeg’s idea, and since he worked for a shuttle company, he saw the same potential Jpeg did. He immediately quit and created his own company, King David, to create the slingshots. King David still runs all slingshot charters. It was months before Jpeg realized that his friend had stolen it from him. And by then it was too late.”

“He really couldn’t do anything about it?”

“He was still sketching his ideas when King David launched the first prototype. He couldn’t do a thing. The courts didn’t care who had the idea. They were using laws built for another time. And Jpeg got nothing,” Taveena said.

“I asked Annalise about Erling’s story, but she said it was his to tell. Why are you sharing Jpeg’s with me?”

Her avatar looked over at Shaw significantly. “I asked him if I could share this. He agreed, even though he thought it was a waste of time.”

“I’m shocked. He seems to hate me because of the fingerprint thing.”

“Disliking you is about more than just you making him look bad. It’s your job, your personal story. You believe the Lattice saved your life, he believes it robbed him of his future. That’s a wide gap to close.”

“I don’t … I don’t know what I think about my kidnapping as a boy anymore. Using the Lattice was convenient for them, but that doesn’t mean it was the only thing that saved me. It’s not like they would have left me in there,” Shaw said. He was being truthful. The pillars of his story were wobbling, and he got the sense they were ready to take a fall.