Called, page 13
“Very good, sir.”
At a flip of the switch, IRIS vanished.
Simeon held his tongue when Miss Rostand discussed the phenomena in the data storage. He knew it instantly as an anti-record, almost salivating at the thought that it was one of Carlton’s. He had been right all along. One of the long-lost URL bars of Carlton’s had been used.
The secret to the algorithm of life was out there.
Since they were made redundant by the lack of ports on modern tech, few investigators knew about URL bars. Even at the height of their popularity, they had been fairly niche in their use. It was never a system that had any commercial viability because it was predicated on the notion that some messages needed to be kept from the Conglomerate servers.
“Darling, please review the profiles your sister has for you. Before she can help us, we need to give her something she can work with.”
“We can be ninety-four percent certain that one of the samples matches Subject Number One and also has an eighty-nine percent probability of a parental match for the unidentified profile recovered from the crime scene.”
TESS had given up on following Simeon around the room. Unable to sit still, he was winding his way back, forth, up and around the suite in an erratic pattern.
“What is the probability of a parental match for Susan Carlton with the unidentified profile?”
“There are no records of Susan Carlton giving birth, Simeon.”
“The circumstances of her disappearance were never resolved. She was markedly absent from her duties at NovaGen in the period before her abduction. We should review everything on her too.”
“Of course, I will work that as my next query after I finish with the genetic signatures.”
There were billions of citizen records available within IRIS’ database, and she was calibrated to have a higher degree of certainty than TESS. IRIS couldn’t work in hypotheticals; she required all synthesis be done from documented evidence. That was one update he’d withheld so TESS could still work with greater degrees of uncertainty.
“Let’s model all the possible parental matches we can find for the unidentified sample.” Simeon was now in the kitchenette, serving himself another energy drink.
“I can identify two potential maternal matches beyond Susan Carlton, as well as a further paternal match in addition to Subject Number One.”
“There is no reason to suspect any other paternal matches,” Simeon knocked back a huge swig.
“The two maternal profiles show no obvious ties to Carlton.”
“We need to cast the widest net possible.”
Simeon was struggling to understand the significance of the connection between Carlton and this unit. He made for the sofa to prevent his frenetic activity from slipping out of his control. “Despite the lack of records to suggest Subject Number One made a cryo unit of his own, the collected evidence suggests brought or built a heretofore unknown cryogenic unit to rural Jericho where he used it on his own daughter?”
“Wanting to ensure the unit functioned as expected, he would have tested it,” TESS intoned directly above him. “There is a record of his genetic signature in the unit’s history.”
“The lab report from the farm might make sense of this. How close is Processing on it?”
“I am sure IRIS is dying to tell you that their SLA for response has lapsed.”
Simeon smiled and rose.
Returning to his control center, he flipped the switch to bring IRIS back in. “Ma’am, could you update me on the status of the processing transcription? Surely, we should have results by now.”
“You are correct, sir. Logs indicate that the time allotted in their internal service level agreement has expired.”
“What are our options, given the severity of the case?” he inquired, knowing full well which options were available to him now.
“You may requisition the evidence for personal review or allow the transcription process to complete. Either option will penalize the Processing cluster associated with this task. Their nutritional balance will be evaluated and, if necessary, adjusted for optimal performance.”
Simeon didn’t like to think about that part.
“Yes, well, let’s requisition the evidence to be sent up here. Have Mrs. Sankt-Pierre let me know when it arrives.”
“Very good, sir.”
He flipped the switch once again and sighed.
The Processors would have been penalized for violating their SLA regardless of whether he was involved or not.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
The SLA might have been longer if it weren’t such a high-profile transgression.
No matter, soon Simeon would have whatever paper was recovered from the scene all to himself.
“Darling, walk me through the sequence of events as we understand them.”
“Susan Carlton vanished midway through solaris 3 Conglomerate era, and Subject Number One was executed at the beginning of solaris 7 CE. The child was likely born in late 2 CE, around the time of the first spark of interest in cryogenics.”
“But when would she have been put into cryo? She would never have survived at that age.” Simeon was back on his feet again. The energy drink and brief centering had reinvigorated him. He was moving deliberately, carefully considering his options.
“The anti-record consumed on the farm corresponds with one created by Subject Number One at the end of solaris 6. Given the span between her mother’s abduction and her father’s arrest, it is statistically the most likely that she is the genetic offspring of Jonas and Susan Carlton.”
“Can you model her for me? Based on the profile we have so far?”
A projection of a young woman appeared in three dimensions, standing in the center of Simeon’s office. He walked around her, noting the brown eyes, tawny red hair, average height, and rather obvious pear shape.
“Was this model generated from all potential parental matches?”
“My apologies, yes.” The projection changed: black hair, hazel eyes. “Now showing the prediction based on only Jonas and Susan Carlton: superior cognitive function, high-level genotype.”
“You know how literal IRIS is. Thank you, darling.”
The hologram vanished, and Simeon found himself staring at where it had been for a moment longer. He shrugged and returned to his desk, where he sent TESS after Susan Carlton and brought IRIS back in.
“Ma’am, please compile a list of any available citizen records that might match my most recently queried genetic profiles.”
Because she indexed billions of genetic signatures both past and present, Simeon was disappointed when IRIS all too quickly reported, “There are no exact matches with any citizens though genetic manipulation is quite commonplace, both by using and by circumventing Conglomerate health service. My protocols prohibit me from pursuing matches to such an open-ended query.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
He cut IRIS out once more.
“TESS, darling. Your sister has pointed out it is possible for either required or voluntary genetic modifications to have eliminated possible matches.”
“I will review Jonas and Susan Carlton’s genetic signatures, noting any abnormalities, and generate a matrix of the likeliest modifications performed on Conglomerate citizens, in descending order of popularity.”
TESS identified eight. When modeling against off-market mods, the pool expanded to just over a dozen.
“Now, the heavy part: compare these patterns with all citizen signatures. Anything could be possible.”
“I have identified twenty-seven possible citizen profiles that are a high confidence match for the suspect.”
“Your sister wouldn’t have found any of these, you know.”
“Her certainty ratio is far higher than mine.”
“And yet, you’re right more often.”
Simeon couldn’t hold back a smile as he brought IRIS back in.
“I have a list of potential suspects based on genetic similarity, ma’am. Can you please map these based on the last available location and compile any available history for each?”
“Of course, sir. Of the twenty-seven, three are in Zion or Jericho, with two additional in Assyria. The remaining are spread across the map as far as Maelstrom and Dynos. I will dispatch Guardian units to locate and detain the citizens.”
“Start with Zion and Jericho.”
Because it was part of an investigation of unlicensed cryo, Simeon didn’t have to document his reasons for detaining citizens, though he was deliberate in noting they were collected for laboratory analysis and prosecutorial review in connection with the explosion rather than for cryo or unidentified genetic signatures.
Guardian units move quickly, but citizens from the further reaches of the nation would take longer to arrive. Many in lower levels of service shift between residences with some regularity and rarely update their service records with new information. Still, Simeon was confident most would be in custody within a sol or two, but Lab 4 would need to analyze again in order to narrow the pool before Simeon conducted interviews, if possible.
Unfortunately, that timing meant Simeon would have to give an update on the investigation before he knew much more. He could inform the Board on the progress of the prosecutorial review without divulging the search was for living descendants of Jonas Carlton. The signature found in the unit did not match the profile of any citizen and was therefore immaterial in helping to assess the transgression of unlicensed cryo.
“Ma’am, we can only conclude that because the only residents of the exception are both deceased, the explosion was detonated by an aging computing terminal and, therefore, not likely by anyone at the scene. Given the age of the evidence, it is statistically unlikely the current residents could have known about the cryogenic equipment at the site.”
“Very good, sir.”
Simeon knew the Chairman would be curious about this case, but there was no evidence of anyone being there after the initial fire. Simeon hoped the wait for twenty-seven matches from across the territory would extend the process long enough for interest to dwindle.
He would continue to downplay the Carlton connections at all costs.
Ward 7
Another thing I didn’t tell Pauly was that I was stopping in Jericho on my way to Zion. The more I thought about it, there were a few things I couldn’t bear to leave behind. I may not be River Mason anymore, but she owes Heather Farmer a couple of things. Once I made the quick stop at my residential unit, I would use the last of my scrip to get back on the Expressway and head for Zion.
Pauly would have only cautioned against taking the chance of getting caught. I figured I should keep covering my tracks. Extending my leave and resetting my oculars to keep looping could help redirect suspicion from River Mason. It would be quickly dismissed if a sign of her genetic signature turned up elsewhere.
While our region is souvernmost in the nation, Jericho is technically souf of everywhere. The distance between Zion and Antioch is fairly small and the only other Expressway route that leaves Jericho runs under the mountains between here and the farms in the oest. Jericho and Zion are in a valley with Agrabhan and Elysium at the higher elevations on the other side of the mountains.
As I started through the streets of my ward, I realized they didn’t feel as comfortable as they had even when I left. After my time in the library basement, I saw the world through new eyes. The Conglomerate makes it seem as though they are doing so much for the citizens, but I didn’t think that was exactly true anymore…how much of it is done for the citizen’s benefit?
Benefits to the citizens are the exception, not the rule.
The system favors the Conglomerate over its citizens, no matter what they say. They convince us that the government is for all of us, but there is a gulf between the lives of the citizens and those of the Chairman and his Board. Citizens receive plenty, that is true, but, for the most part, the essentials are only available via the Conglomerate. They provide way more than food and shelter; the list is long. However, citizens are only entitled to those benefits if they serve. The only place you can live if you don’t serve is an Exurb, where you settle for whatever is available. Despite the freedom they tout, the truly “free places” leave you to fend for yourselves, like Jeb and Marya taught me to, or force you to take your chances on the Outside.
I felt foolish that I let my hurt over losing Marya and Jeb blind me to the risks the Conglomerate posed. I was so sure Marya was wrong that I took all of what the Conglomerate told me as the truth. My shame made me think I was backward or behind and needed to learn how things are meant to work.
I hardly questioned any of it.
I was newly humbled of the pride I felt by having discretionary credits with plenty to spare. My life had come so far from the spartan garret that I had been too happy to leave behind. Since then, I’d been comfortable in prefabricated residential units, validated by a promotion, and delighted by having extra discretionary to spend.
I remain proud of what I did for myself and how I bettered myself and yet, I felt embarrassed by how easily I was seduced…and how wholly I had thrown myself into that life.
Looking at it now, I see how a citizen has virtually no rights within Conglomerate society. If you don’t agree with how things operate, you accept them or live in fear of your opinions being construed as resistance. Academy instructors were clear: “It is a citizen’s duty to obey. Trouble begins for all when one speaks out.”
Suspicion can come from peers or neighbors. Once suspected, the Conglomerate can take control of a citizen’s life. My father was too well-known to vanish, so they used their media to spread misinformation and create suspicion around him and his ideas. When that didn’t dissuade, they made the suspicions into policy and declared his actions a transgression.
What would stop them from doing that to anyone if they could do that to him?
Nothing.
My parents also studied countless genetic profiles and their responses to various forms of nutrition, establishing patterns for how the body metabolizes nutrients, which were distilled into seventeen nutritional genotypes. The Conglomerate has sustenance for different types of service. Wouldn’t it make sense for that to be based on my parents’ science?
And what was to stop the Conglomerate from using nutritional genotypes against rather than on behalf of the citizens?
Nothing.
Why would they make it easy for citizens to live their best lives when they could manipulate the population, using them to prop up the system?
They wouldn’t.
I didn’t regret having learned about how technology works nor for being successful after I put in the effort. On the other hand, Pauly’s material noted that Processing has the highest mortality rate among all divisions. The strain from the neural link on the brain extracts a high toll, and atrophy is a routine affliction, usually the underlying cause of death.
Nearing my building, my senses were practically buzzing. I was so alert I almost felt ill, fearing the hulking mass of a Guardian appearing around the next corner. I stuck to the darker side of the street and used the alleyways.
If asked, I would have a hard time explaining why Heather Farmer was in the residential wards of Jericho. Not showing up at the Academy after redeeming the pass was enough of a risk. I hoped the Guardians wouldn’t go looking for Heather Farmer.
Heather Farmer is not the problem.
I know, I know, River Mason is.
Even if I found my way past the entrance, I still need a way to get into the stairwells to access my floor. The stairs have less surveillance than the lift, but I would have to be quick. I climb the stairs often enough that I might not even stand out to the surveillance. Assuming I managed all that, I would face one final task: getting through my unit door. There was one and only one ID chip that granted access to it...and it just happens to be hanging on the back of that residential unit’s door.
Each door in my building grants only specific identity chips access - the greatest number can access the main door, elevator, and ground floor stairwell. ID is used for every bit of access to which a citizen is entitled. The chips are small and some wear them set in some kind of jewelry, but most get them embedded in the back of their hand.
Having the ports had been enough for me, I didn’t need the ID chip in my body. I kept it on the door to prevent me from leaving my unit without it. I somewhat uncomfortably realized that while River’s was the only citizen-issued chip, there was nothing I could do to stop the system from granting access to “my” unit. If the whole building is automated, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine a way for the system to override the locks.
If the Conglomerate could grant me access, could they grant anyone access to anything if they wanted to?
I always thought it was agreed a citizen’s residential unit was a private space. But that isn’t explicitly stated anywhere. The Conglomerate would not publicize that they can access any residential unit at any time. If they didn’t say they couldn’t, I had no reason to expect they wouldn’t.
Rules are explicit, not tacit.
Citizens are granted access to residential units, but the Conglomerate decides where everyone actually lives. All residentials are available at the discretion of the housing authority. Because shelter is a core service, it’s highly automated and utilizes a lottery system by which citizens secure updated residential units or priority positioning during a refurbishment. Every Citadel is overhauled on a cycle so no matter what, you are relocated once every decennium.
Jericho was due to be refurbished within a couple of solarii. It was an endless cycle of development, churning through resources to revitalize what was previously built and then left to rot away. I could see the bigger picture behind the whole system.
Marya had been right: it wasn’t a good thing.
I returned to the problem at hand, reviewing what I had to work with. I had my port kit and the tools I’d taken from the library workshop. I had some scraps from past experiments, a couple of controller boards, and some circuit components. I also had Heather Farmer’s identity chip. Pauly and I had set it on a ring I made from some spare tungsten.
