by Chris Dolley
Ray stiffened. "Who you calling an idiot?" he snapped.
"You," Graham said. "You pick on people for fun. You delight in other people's embarrassment and . . ."
"And what? Do tell?" A finger poked Graham hard in the chest. The finger turned into a hand, the poke into a shove. "Come on, Graham, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue again?"
Graham shoved back. Hard. Then stopped. "This is ridiculous," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to fight you."
"There's a surprise," said Ray, revelling in the sarcasm.
"Ray!" said Sharmila. "Back off or I call security."
"Why?" said Ray throwing up his hands. "The fun's just starting. Graham's learned English. Come on, Graham. You hadn't finished. And what?"
"And if you don't stop, someone's going to get hurt," said Graham. "Either you or one of the girls."
"What girls?" said Ray, looking genuinely surprised for the first time.
"You know," said Graham. "And so do I." He looked hard into Ray's eyes. Did he see a flicker of guilt? Fear, maybe. Was the Ray on this world the same as the Ray on the others. And could he be saved? Could he be warned off before he crossed any line?
Graham didn't know. Maybe he'd already crossed several lines, but he had to try. If he could frighten Ray enough, maybe it wasn't too late.
"Come on then. What do you know?" said Ray, sneering.
"I know that if my friend ever sees you so much as speak to an underage girl, you'll regret it."
Ray swallowed. Graham had hit a nerve. He could see doubt, maybe a hint of panic in the man's eyes.
"What friend?" said Ray. "The crazy bint in the papers?"
Graham slowly shook his head. "I wouldn't call her that if I were you. The last man who called her crazy had his face set alight. Don't you read the papers?"
"Not too happy about being called a bint either," said Annalise, leaning against the delivery bay door. She tilted her head to one side, widened her eyes and waved a petrol can in Ray's direction. "Anyone got a light?"
* * *
They laughed about it over lunch. The speed with which Ray had left, the ease with which Annalise could convince people she was insane.
"Years of practice," she joked. "You think I should show up at his home a few times to keep him on the straight and narrow?"
Graham didn't know. He wasn't sure if they'd put Ray on the straight and narrow or just had a joke at his expense. He hoped the former and feared the latter. At least they'd tried. And without any evidence what else could they do?
The sun came out. St. James's Park in bloom. So many memories trapped between the trees, so many lives touched. What were they all doing now?
"Did Six get back to you about counselling the Grahams?" he asked Annalise.
"Didn't I tell you?" she said. "They've all agreed. All the Resonance projects they've contacted so far. And they're leaving messages for the others, telling them about the part the Grahams played. ParaDim will provide all the counselling support the Grahams need."
"Do I get counselling?"
"You get personal counselling," she said smiling. "From the Annaliscious one."
"And the resonance wave?"
"According to Six it's too early to tell for sure. But everyone's talking as though it's a done deal. Gary says they'll know by the end of the week. If it's worked, the number of new ParaDim projects should slow down to a trickle, then stop."
"And in the meantime, the RPs are still closing," said Graham wanly.
Annalise grimaced. "Only until Sylvestrus is stopped. The other RPs are moving against him. They're filling their logs with warnings to the others. And they're leaking information like crazy to their boards, the Federal authorities, the EU, anyone who can slip a leash around Sylvestrus's neck."
"They're all following your example," he said, a warm feeling spreading over him. He felt so proud of her. The speed with which she'd toppled Sylvestrus. The ingenuity, the persistence . . .
"And they're gonna share information like crazy. As soon as Sylvestrus slips up on one world, the information's gonna get passed to the others. Every body that's found, every gunman that rolls over—people are gonna be told. Unless the guy changes his MO on every world, he's busted."
Another of Fifteen's innovations, using parallel worlds to solve crime.
"There's one thing that still doesn't make sense, though," she said. "I can see how the Sylvestruses that worked with the Spanish woman discovered they had to put you in a coma. But what about the others? They never met the Maria person, so how did they know? Do you think he was a telepath?"
Something Graham had been wondering about. It hadn't made sense. At first. Until he realized it didn't need to.
"Think of Sylvestrus," said Graham, "as someone who becomes caught up in his own mythology. He's the miracle worker, the great Adam Sylvestrus. He holds the future of the human race in his hands. And then one day he takes a long hard look at the human race and doesn't like what he sees. Suddenly, the resonance wave isn't so bad after all. It's the ideal opportunity to purge the world. He notices the spate of RP closures and the idea resonates with how he feels. He wants the RPs to close. He reads their reports. They all thought they were on the verge of a breakthrough and they all mentioned me. Then he reads how the day after each RP closes they find me unconscious in the street.
"He doesn't need any more than that. He doesn't need to know why I had to be rendered unconscious. All he has to know is that whoever closed the original RPs saw me as a risk that had to be neutralized."
"And so he copycats."
"Exactly."
"So what now?" she said. "How do we reverse this technological conveyor belt toward chaos?"
"That's easy," he said. "We start learning all we can about LifeSim."
"What's LifeSim?"
"Another word for hope."
THE END
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