Called, page 8
“Darling, do we really think this has to do with the algorithm?”
“It is too early to tell, but based on the available evidence, that does seem to be a likely conclusion.”
Simeon swallowed hard, hooking an arm across his face.
The ‘lost architecture of the universe’ sought by Subject Number One.
“But the algorithm isn’t a theory. It’s a piece of technology, isn’t it?”
“From our research, it seems likely that Subject Number One developed a computing technology so advanced that it could forecast any outcome based on the combination of observable variables in an environment, including the psychology and genetics of the individual actor.”
“And that’s where the trouble began.” Simeon rolled onto his side, worrying his fingers lazily along the surface of the carpet.
“Concerned by the rumors,” TESS directed her sound to make it seem as though she were sitting in the armchair next to the sofa, “The Chairman and the Board adopted Technological Ethics policy.”
“His death wasn’t the end of the algorithm. There were rumors that he managed to leave something behind.”
“Official reports paint Subject Number One’s research as a fraud and suggest the algorithm never existed. Conglomerate historical and marketing divisions launched a smear campaign that ruined his long-standing good reputation within a generation. He has been erased from as much Conglomerate history as possible, but he will never vanish from the records entirely.”
“Despite the certainty of his death, the mythology of the algorithm grew among a select and discreet few.”
Most Trailers believed that Subject Number One managed to secure the results of his work on the algorithm, but Simeon was among the few convinced that there were more than ideas awaiting discovery. While Trailers agreed Jonas Carlton’s time evading capture was spent deliberately obscuring some of his work to protect it from Conglomerate Assumption, there was no consensus about what exactly they were hoping to find.
“Call me a romantic, but whether or not the subject managed to find those answers, I still feel as though they’re out there. They have to be.”
“And I exist to serve you in your quest for knowledge.”
He smiled at the empty chair.
Like most Trailers, he simply wanted to know.
Trailers identified one another by using coded speech as part of their discretion. If you suspected you were talking to another, you inquired what they would give to answer their biggest questions. Most would balk but a Trailer was prepared to give anything for the answers. Simeon knew that, even with all his effort, he would have precious few moments with Carlton’s lost knowledge before it fell into the Conglomerate’s hands. If Carlton had produced some technology, that could harness the algorithm’s power. Since his death, no one has been able to actualize what the theory required.
Simeon looked at the clock on his digital link and addressed the chair, “Excuse me for a moment, darling.” At the push of a button, IRIS had returned. “What is our status, ma’am?”
“There are no new updates to any of your most recently accessed Guardian reports.”
He was at a standstill until more information came in or the evidence could be requisitioned and arrive in Zion for review. Still, after all the waiting, one of the anti-records had been consumed.
Whatever secret it held, someone out there had seen it. Simeon would have to find them. He switched IRIS off again, sighing as her hum faded into the peace of TESS’ silence.
“Would you be so kind as to pull up all video footage from my ten most recent Guardian reports? Your sister should have the list.”
“Understood.”
He switched IRIS back on. “Ma’am, cull all ocular recordings from Exurb 32 from the two chrons preceding and following the explosion. Any ocular that was broadcasting within two terraspans, I want you to do a full analysis of each frame.”
“Certainly, Mister Godwin. This may take me some time, given the approval waiver process. May I go quiet?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you. While you’re at it, let’s go ahead and include Exurb 31.”
“Very good, sir.”
The room hummed with the ladies at work as Simeon focused on the final piece of the puzzle: the unlicensed cryogenic components discovered after the explosion. Technically, the cryogenic transgression should be his top priority. They trigger a prosecutorial review, which he is duty-bound to supervise. Sadly though, as the prosecutor, he could not conduct his review before the evidence had been reviewed by a lab team.
Unlike Guardians, which record real-time investigations, lab techs use a closed local network. Under the auspices of security, this “ensured” labs remained impartial. They didn’t work blind but had an offline clone of IRIS, cached when the investigation commenced. MAIA, the Multi-Algorithmic Information Archive, was another feather in Simeon’s cap professionally, though a bit of a personal failure.
To preserve the public trust in their impartiality, lab techs were frustratingly stringent with security. Their systems remained inaccessible to Simeon despite his top-level clearance. Requests for access to active laboratory examinations were no longer denied; they were simply ignored. As IRIS’s sister, Simeon hoped MAIA would allow him access to the content of investigations, but lab security caught and mitigated the loopholes, leaving IRIS and Simeon in the dark.
Without access to information, Simeon would learn about Carlton with everyone else after it was published. He pulled up the list of his lab teams and their current projects. Lab 4 was down because a team member was on parental leave. The unlicensed cryo might end up being a good thing after all. With that kind of urgency, Simeon didn’t have to explain his reasoning for appointing an expert to accompany an investigation as high profile as this one. Simeon pursed his lips, trying to think of a way in and smiling when he remembered a late night in the Antioch dormitories.
“Darling, what is Doctor Frederich Orson’s current assignment?”
“Records indicate he supervises the cryo storage in Ilios.”
Freddy would be perfect.
They’d been close enough to share a passing interest in the Trail as young men, and if he were currently supervising a cryo lab, Simeon could claim he had relevant expertise. Freddy wouldn’t have MAIA’s omnipotence, but he was a smooth talker. He might even be thankful for the respite from monitoring the warrens of cryogenic units that sit below lab complexes. Some cases can sit for decennia, and the lab techs on rotation sometimes have to deal with units where the coolant has failed, leaving the subjects mummified.
Given their shared interests, Simeon knew Freddy would be able to spot the importance of this particular investigation as it unfolded without significant prompting.
“Mrs. Sankt-Pierre, I’m requesting a lab technician to come see me before taking a temporary assignment with Lab 4. Can you make the arrangements and ensure he finds his way to my office without issue?”
“Absolutely, Mister Godwin.”
Resuming his seat at the desk, he set himself to requisition the evidence from Jericho to be expedited to Zion Center.
At first, Simeon hardly recognized the feeling as it spread through his chest. But after a moment, he realized it was excitement.
It was a feeling he had been long denied.
He smiled at his long-planned machine, which was finally set into glorious motion.
32 Library
After a few moments, long enough for me to fear the worst, the door’s bolt slid back, and the library door cracked open.
“Pau—”
He shushed me, putting his fingers to my lips.
“Inside!”
He held the door open and pulled it closed behind me, pushing the bolt back into place. I moved to throw my arms around him, but he shook me off, “Clementine, what are you doing here?”
Clementine?
“Pauly, how do—”
“Where does the Conglomerate think River Mason is?”
“In Jericho, on leave from service.”
“You came on the Expressway?”
“I paid scrip.”
He nodded approvingly and gestured for me to follow him down the stairs. The familiar space felt like a time capsule. As we passed the shelves of moldering Conglomerate manuals that I consumed as a child, all that looked different was the amount of dust. The weight of time showed clearly on Pauly’s face, the lines of age along the folds of his skin were deepened from solarii of worry.
I hope I haven’t put him in danger.
“You won’t be getting out of here any time soon: 31-2 is closed because of an explosion.”
“Yes, I know.”
“An explosion at the same time you show back up here?” Pauly said, opening the door to my old basement hideout.
“I had nothing to do with it. I was just…there when it happened.”
Like the shelves upstairs, my cozy basement workshop looked the same. A little bit of home, somewhere under the layers of dust.
“Sorry, I haven’t kept it up here,” Pauly grunted.
“Beats what’s left of the farm,” I said, wiping my finger across the dusty surface of the table I’d once filled with notes and bits of circuitry. Besides a workbench and rag-tag collection of tools, Pauly tried to make it comfortable when I was younger. A while after he set it up, he brought in a sofa that just fit between the cupboards and sink.
We chased away the worst of the dust, which sparkled in the glow of the halogens against the deep gray brown of the walls. It was not the most beautiful place, but it was safe and felt like home. I slumped down on the sofa while Pauly studied me.
“Your oculars make it seem like you’re in Jericho, but you have come out here. Why?”
“Have you heard about Jeb and Marya?”
He nodded.
“I thought maybe I could find something to explain what happened…”
“I wasn’t sure if you would turn up, Clementine.” I wanted to ask him how he knew my name, but he gave me no chance. “Seems only fitting that Marya would destroy the farm when the exception expired.”
“One last chance to stick it to the Conglomerate?”
“She probably felt like it was her only choice. She couldn’t hold onto the land,” Pauly finished with the worst of the dusting and stood near the doorway, arms folded.
“Only because she didn’t want me to exist.”
“Didn’t you ever wonder why she avoided the Conglomerate? Why she wouldn’t let you have any tech?”
“No, I—”
“Figured she was just an old lady, set in her ways? Laughed at all the silly things she believed?”
I scoffed but then nodded sheepishly.
“The things they won’t teach at those Academies could fill an Exurb,” Pauly was pacing in front of the door, casting shadows across the threshold that danced in the changing light.
“Conglomerate technology changed the course of evolution, altering brains and bodies in a quest to harness the potential of the citizenry. Fortunately, everyone loved wearables. Oculars transport you. Body monitors keep you comfortable. They don’t produce these things to make people happier; they do it to keep them docile. With the introduction of internal computing and ports, the Conglomerate has what they need to take control.”
“I have no tech right now. How are they controlling me?” I asked petulantly.
“Wearables have operating systems that get updated, and ports have to be connected to the network to be active but once you’ve used one, Conglomerate systems have a pathway into your brain. All that Processing work you do? Once they’re in there, it’s impossible to shut them out completely.”
“That’s not true - they said…”
“That all of it is perfectly safe? That they’d only ever use your brain power for computing, never against you?”
“I mean,” I sighed. “It’s against CTE to use technology to control someone.”
“Policy states citizens will be punished for transgressions. As an entity, the Conglomerate government is not restricted by those same rules.” Pauly stopped pacing and perched on the edge of the countertop.
“Not everyone has ports or wears oculars.” I shifted on the couch. This was a little much to swallow. At Academy, they taught us the ways the Conglomerate improved life. They certainly didn’t make it sound as though the Conglomerate was controlling our lives.
“The Conglomerate controls who, where, and when citizens can reproduce. They do so to ensure they can promote the correct traits. They are breeding the citizens to their will.”
My nose wrinkled in question. “I thought they restricted it to prevent overpopulation and the scarcity it brings.”
“But the Conglomerate makes all the food and housing.”
“Pauly,” I blinked several times, questions bubbling over in my mind. “If Marya was right about the Conglomerate, why did you teach me about it? I knew nothing when we met, and you showed me all of it. Why would you do that if it were dangerous?”
“You had so little; who was I to deny you more?” he said simply.
I studied him momentarily, glad for someone who cared about me who wasn’t dead. Somewhere, beneath the time that had passed, the man I knew was in there. The one who had gone out of his way to help me.
Why?
“Pauly, do you know my real name?” I asked, looking right into his eyes.
“You are Clementine Carlton, the daughter of Subject Number One,” he replied without blinking.
The truth!
“He was telling the truth.” I whispered incredulously to myself, my head suddenly replaying the message once again.
“Who? Jeb?”
“No…Jonas Carlton. It was hard to follow, but he talked about cryo and…” I looked up. Pauly was eyeing me very intently. “I had a URL bar, and it played a video message.”
“Where did you get one of those?”
“Jeb brought it to me—” was all I managed to say before my breath caught in my throat.
What is this sensation?
Am I dying?
A prickling in my eyes, a sudden rush of—
Tears.
I don’t cry.
I took a deep breath.
The swelling feeling of sorrow in my chest was overwhelming, but I refused to surrender to it.
Pauly was too interested in what had happened to be distracted by my momentary pause, “They don’t make tech with bar ports anymore. How did you manage to see it? Was there some hidden tech out on that farm after all?”
“It just so happens I had a bar port, thanks to you.” I rummaged in my satchel for the digital link. “Remember this?”
Pauly grinned.
I did, too.
His smile changed from gleeful to anticipatory.
“Pauly, do you know what this is all about?”
He nodded, “I have some idea. How much do you know?”
“I know who Jonas Carlton is, but I thought he was dangerous.”
“The result of a deliberate smear campaign. He was once quite well respected: a brilliant researcher who pushed the boundaries of the known universe.”
“It makes no sense that he would be my father.”
“Cryogenics makes time mutable. Weird things happen when people manipulate the fibers of reality.”
“That’s why CTE exists. To protect us from dangerous ideas.”
“But to whom are the ideas dangerous? Your father tried to map the patterns of the universe. It’s commonly thought he found them and hid the keys to his research. No one knows how far he got, but he cracked the code. He figured out how life works and locked the secrets up somewhere. No one has ever found any sign of it but not for lack of trying, mind you.”
“He said something about a key.” I closed my eyes, rewinding that part in my mind. “He said the message sets in motion a series of events and that the Conglomerate would be coming after me.”
“You said Jeb gave you the URL bar. Did he tell you anything?”
I shrugged and laid back on the sofa, “Only that the URL bar was for me.” My body was sore; I’d done a lot of running, and it felt good to stretch out. “That’s why I came to see Marya.”
“She wouldn’t want you followed.”
Pauly heaved himself from leaning against the counter and went to the cupboard for a mug, setting the old electrokettle to boil. He was making me tea. It felt good to have someone who cared about me. I didn’t know when I saw Jeb or Marya that it would be the last time. If I had, I might have…
Another wave of emotion washed over me.
My chest contracted, my throat widened with the beginnings of a sob.
What is going on?
The raw pain of grief was palpable.
I am not ready for these feelings.
I have too much to do.
What do you need?
I took a deep breath and set my chin on the pain.
“My grandparents were the most technology-averse people, and somehow, there were cryogenic units and explosive devices on their farm.”
“Those ‘grandparents’ of yours aren’t exactly who you thought they were.”
I sat up to receive the warm mug of tea. The fragrance was intoxicating, reminding me of many noxes in this room. Pauly sat at the nearby table and blew on his mug.
“The people you knew as Jeb and Marya worked in technology long before the Conglomerate was founded. They actually collaborated with your parents at their research lab, NovaGen.”
“How is that possible?”
“The most obvious solution is usually the correct one,” he said, professorially. “When he knew he was in trouble, Subject Number One hand-picked the pair of them to care for you. All three of you went into cryo; Marya and Jeb emerged a couple of decennia back…with a young child.”
“Did you know them?”
“Not really. Figuring out where you had come from wasn’t too hard after you left. Since you were gone, I tried to keep an eye on them.”
“Thank you,” I smiled.
Another bubble in my chest. This one is just as potent but warm, not cold. Not sadness…but…
