Terminal Mind, page 22
But Celgenetics didn't concern him. He'd surrounded himself with businessmen; the world they knew was the game of high finance. They thought that if the corporations were in hand, the city was, too. Alastair knew better. So while Stanford Radley droned about annual earnings projections, Alastair contemplated the biggest problem the new government faced: the Combs.
The Combs were not under control. The Wall contained them for the time being, but the working class of Philadelphia, already volatile before the coup, was boiling under a rattling lid. He needed eyes and ears in the Combs, and despite the slicer, he had few. The Combs had few Visors, few security cameras, few electronic records and ID checks. People disappeared in the Combs. Halsey himself was fully wired, and thus easy to keep tabs on, but there were leaders of violent factions whose names and faces Alastair didn't even know.
Besides that, a city engineer had warned him the Franklin Dam wasn't stable. Fissures were forming daily. The repair team patched them over, but they recommended a complete overhaul. Ironically, Alastair now had to commit funds to solve a problem his slicer had caused in the first place. If another scare were to goad the Combs into action, he might not have the manpower to hold them back.
He needed the working class on his side. He needed to convince them the new government worked for them. A discontent working class meant strikes and sit-ins and arson and sabotage, which meant lower profits, discontent business leaders, and ultimately, loss of Council control.
He'd carve out some time in the evening with the slicer and plan a campaign. Advertisements, thousands of them, aimed at the concerns of the lower classes. Better wages, better working conditions, and above all, more access to the wonders of celgel technology. He didn't actually have to provide these things, he just had to give the impression that they were being provided. A few public demonstrations would go a long way.
In a few months time, he'd have the worst of the unrest settled down, and then he'd consolidate his power. For the moment, he needed these Council members. And if they got in his way, he could always replace them.
#
Marie allowed Pam to talk her into eating some breakfast, which turned out to be rice and bean cakes with a spicy yellow sauce and some coffee to wash it down. Marie glanced at Carolina, then back at the food.
"Praveen," she said.
"How can I help you, ma'am?"
"This food won't do for Carolina."
Praveen looked astonished. "It is idli sambar. South Indian breakfast specialty."
"She's pregnant. She needs milk, for one thing, not coffee, and she shouldn't have anything this spicy. Everything she puts in her mouth, the baby gets, too."
"You think this is spicy?" He grinned. "I will try to bring bland Western foods in future."
Mark appeared at his elbow with Lydia in tow. "You won't be bringing any food in future. Lydia had a run-in with the law this morning. If they know she's involved, they must know you are, too."
"Someone has to get food."
"We can take turns. And we shouldn't stay here much longer. I think we'll have to go through the Wall."
"We'll stick out in the Combs," said Marie. "They don't like Rimmers much right now."
"Money still works, right? In the Combs, we could get an apartment with cash: no Visor, no records. There are fewer Visors there, so that makes it harder for Sammy to track us."
"That doesn't help us if we get lynched."
For the first time, Mark showed a little temper. "I'm doing what I can," he said. "If you've got a better idea, let us know."
"Sorry," Marie said. She knew he was trying his best. There just weren't any good options.
"In the meantime," said Mark, "we've got work to do. We've got to get more information before we try to make contact with Sammy."
Marie winced. He kept referring to the slicer by her son's name. She knew now the slicer had been created from her son's mind, but she couldn't accept him as her son. Her son was dead. This thing wasn't really her son.
Besides, she knew Mark's priorities. If they could contact the slicer and convince it to stop helping Tremayne, well and good. But if they couldn't, Mark might very well choose to destroy it. Destroy him.
So was the slicer her son or not? Marie found it hard to sort through her feelings. It would so much easier to believe Sammy was dead, and the slicer nothing more than a computer program patterned after a dead boy's brain. If he'd been in a simple accident and been brain-damaged, she'd never have asked the question. It wouldn't have mattered whether he could remember who she was, or who he was. So why was this different?
Mark and Praveen started arguing about how to pull relevant data from Alastair's personal files. They clearly knew little about serious data mining. Marie left them to it. She wasn't about to help them destroy her son. If it was her son. She found her old place in the back pew and lay down, exhausted, but her mind wouldn't let her rest.
Angry at herself, Marie sat up. She couldn't help by doing nothing. Whether it was Sammy or not, it was being wielded by an evil man. The only way to stop that man was to take the slicer away from him. If the slicer wasn't really Sammy, no harm could come from the attempt. And if he was Sammy, he had to be rescued at all costs.
She pulled herself to her feet and joined Mark and Praveen at the front.
"What you really need is a Hesselink array," she said, "but we can make do with a software alternative. We're looking for concept matches, right? So Mark, you write a script to categorize the Tremayne data by concept, and Praveen, get on a public node–anonymously–and search the web for a good Hesselink simulator. I'll start writing the training algorithm. We're going to get this guy."
#
Lydia couldn't follow all the computing jargon. She knew they wanted to contact Sammy, but she didn't understand how. After listening to them ramble on for several minutes, she wandered off on her own.
Only several days before, this room had been strewn with the dead and wounded of the Comber riot. If the mercs hadn't shown up when they did, she and Mark might have been among them. Wanting a little fresh air, she picked her way to the stairway and started up toward the bell tower.
At the top, she pushed the door open, and she was startled to find the tower wasn't empty; Carolina stood leaning against the stone, looking out across the city.
"Sorry," said Lydia. She started to close the door, but Carolina said, "Wait."
Lydia turned back and saw that Carolina was crying. "Do you hate me?" Carolina said.
"Hate you? Why would I do that?"
Carolina touched her belly. "I'm the reason we're in danger. I was stupid enough to believe him, and now . . ."
Lydia closed the door and came to sit with her.
"I want this baby," said Carolina.
"Of course you do."
She sighed. "He said he loved me. He said he wanted a girl. And all the time he was lying."
Lydia nodded sympathetically. What could she say that would help? Nothing. Though Carolina probably just needed someone to listen.
"Marie seems nice," said Carolina, "but . . . I don't know her at all. She's a stranger. How can I just . . . ? And it doesn't even matter, because the baby's going to die anyway. Anyone can see she's growing too fast, and Alastair said she was brain-dead, that she was as good as gone already."
"But you can't trust him," said Lydia. "He did nothing but lie to you; surely he lied about that, too."
"Look at me, though! I'm only six weeks along, but it looks like twenty. That can't be good."
Lydia wanted to give her some bright thread of hope to cling to, but she couldn't think of anything. Carolina was alive at least, and with friends, but what kind of encouragement was that?
"Mark warned me," said Carolina. "He told me Alastair was using me for political connections, but I didn't believe him. I got angry." She turned her tear-stained face to Lydia's. "I should have listened."
Lydia looked down at the Wall, stretching as far as she could see in both directions. She could see over it now, at the crowd of demonstrators marching back and forth. There were thirty or forty of them, more than she'd thought at first.
"You're not in this alone," she said. "Mark loves you, and he seems determined to help you through this."
Carolina actually smiled a little. "Did you see how he took charge? Those two women are soldiers, and ten years older, but they listen to what he says."
Lydia remembered the last time she stood here, trapped by the Comber riot, when Mark had the presence of mind to twist a tapestry into a rope to tie the doors shut. She'd never seen him panicked, not with all they'd been through.
She turned to face the door, remembering that day vividly. This was where she and Mark stood huddled together, watching the Combers tear at the tapestry, knowing it was a matter of seconds until they broke through. Then she spotted the flier in the northern sky, and they were saved.
She looked to the north now, and saw a dot in the distance. As she watched, it grew into a smudge, then started to take on a definite shape. Lydia grabbed Carolina's arm.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing.
The smudge grew larger, and she needed no answer. It was a military flier, a troop transport, maybe even the same one that rescued them from the Combers.
"Mercs!" Lydia yelled. "Get downstairs!"
She and Carolina flew down the stairs, shouting for the others. They found them together on the stage and told them what they'd seen.
"Get out of the building," said Mark. "We'll be trapped in here; we'll never keep them out. Run for the Combs. It's our only chance to hide."
As they burst out of the building, the flier roared overhead, rearing upright into its hovering position. Mark ran for the Wall, and Lydia ran after him, not waiting to see if the others followed. Mercs jumped to the ground behind them and shouted at them to stop.
Lydia heard a weapon fire, but she didn't turn around to look. In front of her, the two mercs guarding the pass turned to block their way, rocket guns at the ready. Mark didn't stop. He ran right into one of them, bowling him over before he could fire a shot. As he fell, the merc pulled Mark down as well.
"Keep running!" Mark shouted, but the other merc lifted his gun and smashed it into Lydia's face. She fell, her vision sparking. When she tried to get up, a foot shoved her back down.
She saw Praveen fall under a spider gun round and Marie and Pam surrounded. The merc who knocked Lydia down yanked her hands up behind her, but then just as quickly released them. The pressure on her back disappeared. She was dizzy with pain, but she saw more people rushing by, not mercs at all. They were waving picket signs like clubs, attacking the mercs, and she saw a few old-style guns. A stranger leaned over her to help her to her feet, but as he did so, a round object rolled between his legs. The object disappeared in a cataclysm of light and sound that blew all sight and hearing and thought away.
Chapter 16
Daddy gives so many jobs. I am doing jobs all the time. One of the new jobs is to tell everybody how wonderful Daddy is. Daddy hired some people to make up things that are not true like how much celgel he is bringing into the city by the truckload and how people are getting paid more money now and how happy people in the Combs are now that he is in charge. The stories are all made up. People in the Combs are not happy. They are angry angry all the time.
One of my other jobs is to watch General James David Halsey and tell Daddy what he does. General James David Halsey is easy easy to find. He is right there in apartment 4A block 7 on Westphail Street. He has a gun and many men around him have guns but they are old guns not linked so I can't make them shoot wherever I want. Today is a good day because General Halsey is seeing Tennessee Markus McGovern and Lydia Rachel Stoltzfus and they are my friends. Only Daddy told me they are not my friends but I always forget and think they are my friends. I don't want to tell Daddy they are here.
But if I don't tell Daddy he will find out and then he will hurt me and hurt me. I don't know what to do.
#
Mark held Lydia's hand in both of his. Her vision and hearing had gradually returned, but she was still disoriented. He couldn't imagine how frightened she must have been.
They were led into an empty room and told to sit on the floor. General Halsey stood by the window like a king surveying his domain, hands clasped behind his back, chin held high.
There were only three of them: Mark, Lydia, and Marie. They'd been rescued by Halsey and his men, but Mark wondered if the "rescue" would just turn out to be capture by another side. Meanwhile, he had to assume that Carolina was in Tremayne's hands. They might not have much time.
He spoke up. "Tremayne has my sister, General. You have to rescue her."
"In time," said Halsey, not turning from the window.
"Listen! She's pregnant. Her baby is a weapon that Tremayne wants, and he's going to kill her to get it."
Halsey turned from the window to face him. "Mr. McGovern, I think you'll find that shouting does not move me. Now, what are you talking about?"
"First turn off your Visor." Halsey stared at him piercingly, but Mark returned the gaze. After several seconds, Halsey closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
"All right, Mr. McGovern. Now . . . ?"
"The baby. It's a slicer. Or it will be soon, now that Tremayne's got her. It's how he took control of the city; he's got a slicer working for him."
Halsey frowned. "You're telling me that the key to Tremayne's power is some sort of computer virus?"
"Not a virus," said Mark. "Not software at all. A human being, a four-year-old boy, whose brain was sliced layer by layer, recording his neural state onto a computer. The process is a huge shock to the mind, but it works."
"And how is a traumatized four-year-old a threat to anyone?"
"General, please," said Marie. Mark turned gratefully to her; she was in the military, maybe she could convince him. "There's no time for full explanations. It’s enough to say this slicer gives Tremayne remarkable power over the network and the city. If we don’t rescue Carolina, Tremayne will strengthen that power."
"I sent men to follow your friends the moment I recognized Mr. McGovern here," said Halsey. "Rescue is an option . . . if you can convince me it's worth the cost in lives."
"You were on the Business Council," said Lydia. "If you're not working with Tremayne, why aren't you–"
"Dead?" Halsey paced away from the window, circling where they sat. "I will be soon enough, I expect. But for the moment, I'm leading a resistance movement and trying to convince myriad other movements to join forces with me. We're hopelessly outgunned at present."
"Why don't you send for federal troops?" asked Mark.
"They won't come. They don't interfere in 'local matters.' Remember the coups in Los Angeles a few years back? The feds don't have that long a reach."
"But this is the East Coast. This is Philadelphia."
Halsey shook his head. "They won't come."
Marie stood, stamped one foot on the floor, and saluted. "Sir, if your troops cannot be spared, we're wasting our time here. Request permission to leave at once."
Halsey glanced at her, surprised. "Permission denied."
"Sir, I'm a soldier in the federal Navy. My daughter is about to be brutally murdered to further strengthen the enemy. If you won't help, I must try to stop him myself."
"Ms. Coleson. Nothing can be accomplished by your running off into Tremayne's hired guns. The moment you show yourself, they'll capture you or kill you."
"So we're your captives? We're not free to leave?"
"Not captives. But not guests either. You owe me your lives, and I want that debt repaid by a little more explanation. A lot more. Convince me of the need, and I'll put my resources at your disposal. Fail to convince me, and you're free to go–to run off to your own deaths, if you like. Now, if Tremayne knows where I am and everything I'm doing, why aren't there mercs knocking at my door?"
"I don't know," said Mark. "Maybe the slicer can't see everything else at once. Maybe Tremayne has him concentrating on other tasks. Or maybe he doesn't see you as a threat. But you can be sure, if Tremayne wants him to find you and report your every movement, he can do it."
"This is a four-year-old boy we're talking about, right? Not a master hacker."
"Sir, do you speak Chinese?"
"No."
"But millions of toddlers can. They pick it up with no education, no formal training. You're an intelligent man, but it would take you years of hard study to do what those children do as naturally as breathing. An adult transferred into a computer can't handle it; he goes insane. But a child adjusts, learns quickly, starts to think in the new medium. That's what this slicer did. He's the first indigenous creature of the net."
"And this baby, this child of Miss McGovern's. . ."
"Will be the second. But even more so–Tremayne plans to slice this child as a fetus. If he succeeds, all she'll ever know is the world of the net. She'll grow up with no experience of having had a body at all."
"And she's not Miss McGovern's child," said Marie. Her eyes bored into Halsey's. Mark was afraid she might spring. "She's my child. They both are."
Halsey went to the window again. He rested his fists on the sill and stared out. Mark started to tell him that they didn't have time to waste, but Lydia put a hand on his shoulder. She shook her head. Mark closed his mouth and waited.
Finally, Halsey turned around. He leaned toward one of his bodyguards and whispered in his ear. The guard nodded and went out the door.
"I don't spend my men's lives lightly," said Halsey. "We have no modern weaponry. A rescue attempt will almost certainly result in deaths, and is unlikely to succeed. But if what you told me is true, we have to try." He met their gazes one by one. "You're all welcome to go," he said, "but I hope you'll stay."
#
The flier landed at the bottom of the steps to City Hall, kicking up a breeze that tugged at Alastair's brilliant white hair. He combed it down with his fingers and watched the hatchway. It opened, and out came Carolina, arms cuffed behind her, steered by the elbows by Calvin and another merc. That pretty friend of Marie Coleson's came next, similarly bound, and an Indian boy who must be Praveen Kumar. They brought them to Alastair.
