Binary

by Stephanie Saulter

  ‘Well, you certainly made it pleasant for the rest of us! And you knew a song that was very old and obscure. I think we all found that quite remarkable. Did you learn religious music because of your upbringing?’

  ‘I just learned music,’ Gwen replied. She was leaning casually against the vacant bar, elbows propped and long legs crossed, shimmering ruby curls cascading over her shoulders. Her outfit was no longer old-fashioned, but neither was it the current rage; there was an ahead-of-the-curve glamour about it that Eli suspected a thousand young women would immediately attempt to replicate. It was unlikely to look as good on any of them as it did on her. ‘Many old things survive out in the mountains. It doesn’t mean we think about them the same way our ancestors did.’

  ‘I understand there are a lot of traditional sounds in the work you’re going to be showcasing for us tonight. But the songs themselves are new, is that right?’

  ‘That’s right. Almost everything we’ll be playing has only ever been heard in rehearsal. And the traditional sounds are not just from one tradition. Lyriam and I are interested in pulling together lots of different influences … ah, here he is.’ Another radiant smile as Lyriam walked into the frame, leaned across to shake the interviewer’s hand and then propped himself on the bar beside her.

  ‘It sounds like a real meeting of the minds,’ the host prattled on. ‘But I understand you’ve only recently started collaborating? Tell us about that.’

  Eli concentrated on finishing his message while Lyriam and Gwen tag-teamed the rest of the interview. P.S., he wrote at the end, I’m watching UnStreamed, and your sister is playing Julius like a violin. He swiped to send and turned his full attention back to the vidpanel, just as Julius turned his full attention back to Gwen.

  ‘So, Gwen, I guess we won’t be hearing any more hymns from you tonight, then. Any thoughts on the Reversionist reaction to your, ah, “improvised response”?’ He was grinning toothily. ‘I understand there was speculation about whether you might have some sympathy for them. Because of your background.’

  ‘I have a lot of sympathy for anyone who has a hard time working out where they fit in,’ Gwen replied sweetly. ‘The Remnants know how important it is to learn from the past, but I think there are many people who don’t understand – sadly – that that’s not the same thing as imitating it. Not at all. We’re very clear that the biggest lesson is often what not to do.’

  Julius looked slightly stupefied. Lyriam threw Gwen a sideways glance: appraising, and possibly a touch apprehensive. She leaned against the bar, held Julius with her eyes, and serenely waited for the next question. He stammered out something about whether that was part of her approach to music as well, but Eli was not listening to the answer.

  That reply went well beyond the show’s arts-and-lifestyle remit and he felt a sense of wry admiration for how neatly Gwen had just dismissed the Reversionists and instead placed herself at the centre of the cultural zeitgeist. But more: it took him back to the night in the park, Reginald’s cryptic comment, the sense of a shifting landscape that he had felt at the party. He looked down at the tablet in his hands, the plans and protocols he had been working on, the message he had just sent, and thought about the use to which all of that work was about to be put.

  Reginald’s right, he thought. Integration isn’t going to be a problem, and the Reversionists don’t stand a chance. They will be us before we know it.

  *

  Zavcka Klist hated the smell of the lab. She considered it one of the many ironic annoyances of her life that even after the overthrow of all but the most mundane gemtech, the upheavals that had occurred with and without her assistance, the fulfilling of her own ambitions still required her to spend far too much time breathing in the miasma of organic matter and electrolysis, the sweet stink of solvents and waste. She would have liked to come down here less, but she knew too well the dangers of hands-off management; of allowing staff to become isolated, or, worse yet, to believe themselves inviolate. And developments were at such a delicate stage.

  Once I get through this part, once I know for sure it’s going to work, I’m taking a break. No special security, no sixteen-hour workdays, no fucking labs.

  She kept her distaste firmly masked through the few final words of approval and encouragement, and stepped into the lift beside Dunmore. The doors hissed closed, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His face was as stoic as ever, but there was a hint of curiosity in his voice as he said, ‘Everything to your satisfaction, ma’am?’

  ‘They’re doing very well. Very well indeed. But this deal with the gems is going to happen, Dunmore, and that means the safeguards need to be especially tight. Shift patterns, communications, everything. They need to understand below stairs that nothing, and I mean nothing, can be allowed to slip.’

  ‘It won’t, ma’am. I’ll be drilling them personally.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Do we know when the gems are likely to arrive?’

  ‘Within a couple of weeks, I hope. There’s no time to waste. I’m aiming to wrap up the business end of it today, god help me, and then it’ll be as soon as the savant can be persuaded to start.’

  He cocked his head at her. It was as close to a look of reproof as she had ever seen from Dunmore. She looked back, puzzled, and then got it.

  ‘As soon as Herran can be persuaded to start. Damn. You’d better drill me too.’

  ‘If you like, ma’am, but it won’t be necessary. Once they’re on site you’ll be sharp.’

  ‘I need to be sharp now. Set an example.’

  He ducked his head, a fractional movement that conveyed acknowledgement, agreement and approval, but no less deference. Dunmore was a marvel, she thought, a type one hardly ever saw any more. He rarely betrayed an opinion of his own, never balked at anything he was required to do, but he was the sort of servant who would tell you what you needed to know whether you liked it or not, without any diminution of respect. He could be relied upon to read the mood on the streets and streams, and to understand how well it corresponded – or not – with the once-hermetic bubble of Bel’Natur. Though he had neither education nor brilliance, was as stolid and unoriginal as a coffee cup, it was he who really understood how to close the circuit between the requirements of her personal project and the realities on the ground.

  How very different from Khan, waiting upstairs for her with notes and calculations for the final horse-trade with Temple and Morningstar. He too had his finger on the pulse of current opinion, but that was because he shared it, he lived it. He was full of creativity and initiative, and enthusiasm for this new, borderless world. She could hold him in her mind’s eye as an example, an embodiment of the modern spirit; a marker of how far she had yet to go.

  The new and the old, the cavalier and the cautious, the carrot and the stick.

  You are a lucky woman, Zavcka, in spite of everything. What you need is at hand when you need it. These two are counterweights; repellent to each other, but equally necessary to your survival. Keep them loyal, use them wisely, and they will get you through this.

  15

  The club was larger than Rhys had expected, tucked away behind a deceptively modest entrance on one of the still shabby streets that ringed the Squats. They had barely arrived before Gwen dragged him through a door next to the toilets and showed him around a rat-run of narrow passages and odd little offices and storerooms that she rather grandly referred to as backstage. He stuck his head into the noisy chaos of a dressing room to wave at Lyriam and the rest of the band, before he and his sister emerged back onto the dance floor through a different door, this time beside the bar.

  Music poured down from hidden speakers, pressing against him like an insistent hand. It sounded Antipodean, at once archaic and oddly modern, a bone-deep bass thrum behind a high, wavering voice that flickered through the notes almost too fast to register. He heard Gwen begin to hum a counterpoint, the subvocal harmonics below the level of most people’s perception. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it.


  The dance floor was a semicircle of clear space in front of a small stage, now bustling with activity as instruments were positioned and equipment checked. It was bordered by seating and low tables, and then there were a couple of steps up to another level, with good views to the front and dark, discreet alcoves further back. Enough to hold a lot of people, even if those who chose the seats at the rear would likely be more interested in each other than in the performance.

  But still, it was an impressive space, and it needed to be. With Lyriam as co-star, the show – announced via the breaking-news bombshell of the morning’s joint interview, and with the additional cachet of being invitation-only – had within a few hours become the hottest ticket in town. Barely a week had gone by since the concert in the park, and Rhys mentally calculated the degree of hard graft, subtle persuasion and calling in of favours that must have gone into organising it, and concluded that Gwen had been up to much, much more than even he had realised.

  Reginald, Graca and Aryel had commandeered a section of plush banquettes on the lower level, close to the stage. Rhys and Gwen made their way over, against the steady trickle of people heading for the bar. Most of the tables, he noticed, were already occupied; the room had begun to fill up just in the few minutes that they had been away. About half the audience for this pop-up performance bore obvious gemsigns, and glowing, jewel-coloured heads made their own light show as they nodded and tossed around him. Many of them called out to Gwen, familiar greetings which she laughingly returned. Despite himself, Rhys had to admit he was impressed. When had she found time to meet them all? Gwen had always been better at making friends; she had the gift of instant charm and effortless popularity, where he generally felt himself having to work at it. But this was remarkable even by her standards.

  She slipped seamlessly into the conversation the others were having with a pair of new arrivals who leaned over the railing from above. They said their goodbyes and hurried off to find seats, only to be replaced by others. For several minutes there was a constant flow of people stopping to greet Ari, comment on Gwen’s UnStreamed appearance and wish her luck with the show, shake Da’s hand and compliment Graca on the subaquatic technology that was emerging as one of the big stories of the Festival. Rhys smiled and nodded just enough not to appear rude, while he kept an eye on those still arriving.

  He spotted Callan as he emerged out of the dim passageway that led to the entrance, and paused to survey the room. Rhys raised a hand, and felt his heart skip as he saw Callan’s face light up. He made his way over, arriving just as the last lot of well-wishers were about to depart.

  ‘Twice in one week!’ exclaimed the tall albino woman, Aster, as she planted a kiss on both Callan’s cheeks. Her skin and hair were bone-white, but her eyes glowed pale purple around piercing violet irises. ‘We might almost get used to seeing you.’

  ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ he shot back, and there was laughter, a final round of hugs, and then she threaded her imperious way towards the bar.

  Her departure seemed to signal the end of the flurry that had surrounded them, and they were finally able to sit. Rhys knew that if his family had not been there Callan would have greeted him with a kiss, wrapped an arm around him as they sat next to each other. Instead he could feel him staying within touching distance but not touching, watching him sideways, waiting to see how he wanted to play it. He shot him a glance back, read the wanting in his eyes, and felt his stomach flip over again as he shifted close enough to clasp his hand for a moment and lean casually against him, thigh to thigh. There was a quick, delighted smile in response, a squeeze of his fingers and a happy glint in the green eyes. Rhys looked back at his family.

  Aryel, sitting across from them on a toadstool-like ottoman, arched an eyebrow, shook her wings and smiled. Reginald said, ‘Hmm!’ and grinned broadly, and Graca chuckled. Gwen stared openmouthed, blinked, swallowed, and said, ‘Callan? Would you mind if I borrowed my brother for a moment?’

  Callan looked as though he were considering. ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘He needs to be slapped.’

  ‘In that case, absolutely not.’

  ‘What for?’ Rhys, indignant.

  ‘For not talking to me. How did I miss this?’

  ‘You,’ said Rhys loftily, ‘have not been paying attention.’

  ‘I always pay attention!’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘You have been a bit distracted, Gwen,’ Aryel observed with amusement.

  ‘Preoccupied, I’d say,’ Reginald added.

  ‘Sidetracked, even,’ chimed Graca.

  ‘You are all as daft as each other. And you, brother dear, have been keeping secrets.’ She sat up straight, scowled prettily at him and drummed her hands on the table as if to emphasise that this was the final word on the matter. Rhys snorted.

  ‘If I – we – were, we wouldn’t have been the only ones.’ He made a show of looking pointedly around the room and was pleased to see her grin turn a bit sheepish.

  ‘We-ell … Lyriam thought it would be better not to trail it too far in advance … if we hadn’t been ready in time, it’s easier to cancel something nobody knows about. And I couldn’t argue with that, I’m the one who doesn’t really know what she’s doing.’

  She batted her eyelashes modestly as everyone except Callan howled. He looked a question at Rhys, who stopped laughing long enough to lean over and say in a stage whisper, ‘She always knows what she’s doing.’

  ‘Almost always.’ Gwen was still tapping her hands against the table, a faint percussive rhythm that Rhys registered as a nursery song from their childhood. ‘The publicity boost from the interview was massive, but it means we’ve got even more stream coverage than we expected. I don’t want to let anybody down.’ Her gaze paused for a moment on the door by the bar, and then she smiled at them as the reassurances poured in. ‘Right, well. If I’m going to live up to all of this, I’d better go get ready. Callan,’ as she got to her feet, ‘Rhys is a prat, but that’s no reflection on you.’

  She shot him an even sweeter smile, stuck her tongue out at her brother and turned to go. Reginald heaved himself to his feet. ‘I shall escort you,’ he said gravely, ‘as far as the bar.’

  ‘I’ll help,’ said Graca, and they collected orders and made for the scrum that surrounded it.

  As soon as they were gone Aryel leaned forward, her face turned serious. ‘Cal? How did it go?’

  ‘Fine. No worries at all. It was obvious Herran had no idea what they were talking about. He was as baffled as I’ve ever seen him.’

  ‘Was he upset?’

  ‘Not really. I mean, you know Herran. He really likes Sharon. He was apologetic.’ He glanced at Rhys. ‘“Sorry not help.”’

  ‘What about the other cop?’

  ‘Police psychologist. Had already liaised with social services, apparently, and read Herran’s file.’

  ‘Really?’ Relief washed over her face. ‘Oh, well done, Sharon. I should have known not to worry.’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Rhys, and Aryel explained.

  ‘A psychologist would be able to make an informed judgement about Herran’s mental state, far more than just a regular cop. And it’s part of Herran’s profile that he doesn’t lie. There are things he might keep to himself, or find ways to talk around, but he can’t actually tell an untruth. Or break a promise.’

  ‘He can’t?’ This struck Rhys as almost more amazing than any of the things he knew Herran could do. ‘I mean, that’s good, I suppose, but …’ He stopped, trying to work through his sense of ambivalence.

  ‘It’s a basic human capacity,’ Callan said quietly. He sounded sad, and under the table his fingers tightened again around Rhys’ where they rested on his knee. ‘To be able to make things up, invent a different version of events, justify breaking your word. Herran can’t do it.’

  Rhys swallowed. ‘I thought, when we were with him the other day … I mean, the way his brain works is incredible. I was awestruck. An
d it’s not like I think people should lie. But not to be able to …’

  ‘He keeps things to himself,’ Aryel said again. ‘And he’s gained a little … subtlety, I guess you could call it. But sophisticated lateral thinking, leaps of logic, intuition …’ She shook her head. ‘He just doesn’t seem to have the wiring for it. That observational analysis you and Gwen do automatically? Way beyond him.’

  ‘That’s really why you’re sending Callan and Dr Walker to Bel’Natur with him, isn’t it? It’s not just to help him communicate and feel comfortable. You’re afraid they might take advantage of him in ways he doesn’t understand.’

  ‘That is a big part of it.’ She smiled at him. ‘See? Sophisticated lateral thinking. Inference. You just spotted the connections. I wonder …’ She trailed off, pensive. She was flickering through moods this evening, Rhys thought, the way the aborigem singer had been flickering through notes. It was unlike her. ‘Callan, d’you know if Eli’s coming?’

  ‘A little later, I think. Said he had a few things to finish off.’ He gave her an appraising look. ‘It is going to happen, isn’t it?’

  ‘Bel’Natur? Yes. We got everything we wanted today.’

  Callan pursed his lips and nodded, with the air of a man receiving orders to deploy to the front line. ‘Are you really okay with going there?’ Rhys asked him softly.

  ‘Okay might be a bit strong. But there’s a lot at stake, and the neurologist who came to meet Herran seemed really decent. He wasn’t put off by her, which I confess is what I thought would happen. So I’m – calm about it, let’s put it that way.’

  ‘I think calm is about the best any of us can manage when it comes to Bel’Natur,’ Aryel put in. ‘And more than some of us are managing, when it comes to other things. Gwen, for example, could do with being a bit less spiky.’

  ‘I thought she was pretty confident,’ Callan remarked, ‘despite what she said. She was great on UnStreamed this morning.’

  ‘Oh she’s completely confident about the show, and the interview was never going to be a problem for her. But she went pretty far over the top with you two.’