Convergence

by David M Henley

  ‘May I see some identification?’

  ‘My orders and ID are in my symb. If you give me access to your network, I can —’

  ‘That’s okay, we can do a screen.’ They quickly executed an identity scan and the man nodded. ‘That all checks out. Welcome to West. I’m Sergeant Regis and I’m in charge of this building. You can now connect to the local network. You have read-only access as all traffic is being prioritised. Let me introduce you to our matron, then I must get back to my post.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you for your time. Can you tell me what is happening out there?’

  The sergeant twisted around as he walked. ‘Nothing to worry about. We are just locking the area down.’

  ‘We saw Citizens fighting over emergency packs on the way here. The people are panicking.’

  ‘People are prone to panic sometimes. The Weave will be back to normal soon.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because it is the Will. Can’t you feel it?’ Regis smiled. He appeared confident. ‘Come, let’s get you introduced so I can move my squad out of the rain.’

  They went on through the doors to the large room of chairs and desks. The girl with the cap and the ear make-up was lying on the ground, listening to music. Her eyes followed them as they went over to the other woman, who he had met earlier.

  ‘Esme, this is Humbolt Schaff, systems engineer class one. I have verified that he is who he says he is — Juliet?’ Regis only just noticed the girl watching them. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sergeant,’ Esme said. ‘I didn’t want to leave her at home. Not under the circumstances.’

  ‘Fair enough. There’s no school today, after all.’ Sergeant Regis turned back to Humbolt. ‘Mister Schaff, I’m sorry we won’t be able to have you housed tonight, but this floor has showers and a kitchen. You can find a bed in one of the Servicemen dorms.’

  ‘And what should I do?’ he asked.

  ‘Just wait here for further instructions.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go now.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  ‘I’m sure the Weave will be reconnected tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, sergeant,’ he said. Regis left and the three of them watched as the squad disappeared through the rain. None of them spoke until the sergeant was out of sight. Then Esme excused herself; something about meals to prepare.

  Humbolt located the nearest dorm room through his symb, one floor down, and hefted his bags. It wasn’t the accommodation he had hoped for — he hadn’t shared a sleeping area with anyone but his partner since his schooling days.

  The dormitory held twenty triple bunks, with slide-out lockers in the base of each. He found an unclaimed bed in the corner and sat down on the lowest bunk.

  Left to himself, Humbolt tapped the network the sergeant had given him access to. A Services-only net that contained databases of information on the city: an ark of the most important data, a repository in the event of a collapse. Maps, infrastructure diagrams, even Citizen lists and profiles. He shivered. Its mere existence qualified the current situation as a possible crisis.

  He noticed something else about the net immediately. Unlike the Weave, the emergency Services network didn’t track and record the totality of one’s stream. Only basic status conditions were processed and there was minimal functionality for adding personal records or data. But at least Humbolt could now see where everyone was.

  Through the plans of the surrounding buildings he tracked the Services squads making patrols and forming checkpoints around their zone. This he watched for some time, trying to see an explanation behind Services’ actions.

  Military tactics were not a strong point for him, but he understood systems. The Services buildings were just like any maze or labyrinth, with passages that either connected to rooms or divided: akin to a circuit board. In this map, people were like signals, moving around the circuit board, and the layout determined the possible paths of the signals. Normally designed to allow for the fast and easy flow of individuals to get where they needed to go, Services had sealed most of the entry points to the zone, walling off portals as if they never existed. From what he could see, they had effectively closed off the majority of routes, redirecting potential traffic to a single checkpoint on each of the four levels. Here the Servicemen gathered.

  What is it Services is trying to stop getting in? Humbolt wondered. Is Services protecting itself from the people? Or what they are running from?

  With nothing else to do he lay down. He must have fallen asleep eventually because he awoke with Sergeant Regis shaking his foot and the ceiling lights switched on.

  ‘Sergeant, what is it?’

  ‘It’s time to go to work.’

  Humbolt checked the time — it was early in the morning — and, out of habit, tried to connect to the Weave, but it remained silent and his queue was empty.

  ‘No news on the Weave?’

  ‘No. No update. Here are your orders: take the shift tube on level two four stops to the hex. There are two minifacs offline that I want working by morning.’

  ‘What’s wrong with them?’ Humbolt asked.

  ‘You’re the repair guy,’ Regis answered.

  ‘Actually, I’m a systems engineer.’

  ‘Your record shows you have the required skills.’

  ‘If you don’t know what’s wrong with them, how do you know how long it will take to fix them?’ Humbolt asked.

  ‘I don’t. I’m just telling you when I need them. I want to be connecting omnipoles to new cores by twenty-four hundred.’

  ‘Can I at least have a shower first?’

  ‘Up to you. Ping me hourly progress reports.’

  Sergeant Regis turned and left. Humbolt crawled out of bed and pulled his coveralls from his bag.

  In the other room, the children were arranged and waiting. Garth stood before the ring of kids in slouch couches, visors and gloves at the ready.

  ‘Well, now that everybody is here,’ Garth said, ‘it has been a long time since we’ve had an entire evening to play games. And I would like to propose to you that we embrace this opportunity and play just one game. One big game.

  ‘I would like to take you back ten years, to when this game was first released, and say we try to complete the whole campaign of Pinter’s Cavalry.’ Behind him on the wall-screen appeared large, explosive typography and a vivid animation of Captain Abercrombie Pinter riding into battle on the back of an annihilator machine.

  They cooed excitedly. Some had never even played it before, having only heard tell of it. Pinter’s Cavalry was one of those history redux games. Big production, hyper-realistic depictions of key events from the fall of the United Kingdom through to the foundation of the World Union and the final confrontation with the Örjian horde; plus music, rewards and ways to jump over the boring bits to keep the game as action filled as possible. The children would each play a character in Captain Pinter’s battalion, fighting for survival and a new home.

  It was a saga of a game. Those who had played it — Garth, Bjorn and Zach — had never completed it. There had once been a period of weeks, or months, perhaps even a whole summer, when this was the only game they played.

  Garth had chosen well and the tribe was pleased — even if the graphics might seem lame now, it was still very good.

  Zach didn’t have a visor, so he sat and watched Inez. One of the other children had lent her a visor so she could be one of the players. The game screens appeared on the main wall, showing all the characters’ POVs and free-floating narrative cameras.

  Garth took the role of Pinter, naturally, though that could change at any time when the others increased their skill levels and accomplishments; the highest scoring player controlled the actions of the leader while their own character was autopiloted — thus subconsciously training the players in a simplified representation of the Will.

  They stared across a valley, fields divided by quaint fences, which
were then trampled by a growing stampede of Örjians and their creations. Zach thought of Mister Lizney. He was one of those things.

  The horror of the game was emphasised at the cost of historical reality. While the Örjians had used splicing to create all sorts of war-monsters, the game makers had certainly taken creative liberties and added more teeth and limbs.

  The trick of the game, since the players knew how events developed in real history, was to shuffle the positions of the warring factions. Instead of Europe, the cavalry was in the desert flats of Chile, and the Örjians were sweeping down from northern America. The characters hadn’t found where the seeds of the future World Union were forming and soon they would have to choose a new landmass to explore. But before they could do that, they had to find a way to cross the oceans.

  Just as they’d selected their characters and were about to start out, the ground shook beneath them. The kids wearing visors thought it was part of the scene and they looked around in the game world for where the surprise attack was coming from. Those who were watching felt their seats shake beneath them and saw the drinks beside the players fall over.

  Tom pulled open the sliding doors and Lily rushed through, asking, ‘Is everyone okay?’

  A second vibration, smaller, made them all tense again and the big window cracked, but did not fall from its frame.

  ‘Lily, what’s happening?’

  ‘Just an earthquake, dear. Get everyone upstairs and under their beds. Okay. Everyone, up!’ she shouted and added, ‘Game: shut down,’ which triggered the screens to switch off and the alarmed players to pull off their visors.

  ‘What’s happening?’ they asked.

  ‘Just some shudders. Nothing to worry about, but everyone go to your rooms and stay under your beds. It will be over soon.’

  Slightly confused, they stood and Bron ushered them through the door and then cajoled them up the stairs. Inez looked over at Zach before leaving, but followed the others without resisting.

  Garth, Bjorn and Zach stayed behind with Lily and Tom.

  ‘Tom, that wasn’t an earthquake,’ Garth said.

  ‘I don’t know what it was.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Bjorn asked.

  ‘I’ll go and see if I can find something out.’

  ‘We’ll come with you.’

  ‘No. This is my job,’ Tom said flatly.

  ‘But what if there is trouble?’ Bjorn asked.

  ‘Yeah. You shouldn’t go out alone, Tom,’ Garth said.

  ‘I said no. You have to stay here.’

  Lily took hold of his hand and raised it to her cheek. ‘Let them go with you, Tom.’

  ‘What? Lil … no.’

  ‘Tom, please. Don’t go out alone.’

  He stared into her eyes for a long time before tipping his head to kiss her softly. ‘Okay.’

  The garden had never been a fearful place before. It was always a happy green during the day and calm at night. Now the lowering sun seemed vicious, leering through the thick orange haze. The shadows were dark, coveting their secrets, and the air smelt of smoke and rain. Tom and the older boys strode quickly to the gate and stepped out.

  Zach followed more cautiously and peered through the gate to the street. It was devoid of people. In the distance, smoke was rising and spreading out, blurring the buildings in front of them. It rose and fell, sometimes looking like brown arms slapping carelessly at the ground. One thrust, like a fist, knocked the head off one of the needles. It fell slowly and was so far away they heard no sound for a few seconds, until a numbing crack reverberated over them and they felt a rumble through the soles of their shoes.

  ‘Tom?’ Zach said.

  ‘Let’s be quick, boys.’

  Tom went left towards the boulevard. There was a Services station a kilometre to the east; towards the explosions.

  As they got closer they joined others heading to find out what they could and soon they were in a crowd shouting to know what was happening.

  The Servicemen wore bulky armour and held large rifles across their chests. One stood shouting from the roof of the Services point, amplifying his voice for the people below.

  ‘Please, Citizens. Return to your homes.’

  ‘What is happening? Please just tell us what is happening?’ Zach heard from around him.

  ‘I urge you to remain calm. Collect one emergency pack for each member of your family units. There is enough for everybody.’

  The smoke was leaking across the sky, irritating the sun into a reddened eye that drooped as it got darker and darker.

  The crowd was getting angry and a hand pushed him about. ‘Come on, Zach. We’ve seen all we are going to see here,’ Tom said.

  They hurried back the way they had come, occasionally looking over their shoulders at the crowd roiling behind them. With relief they turned the corner to their street and jogged the rest of the way home.

  At the gate they stopped and Tom bent down to tear something out of the grass. For years the gate had had a plastic-wrapped chain beside it, lying in a coil for so long it was overgrown with grass. Tom ran it around the frame and the fence posts and closed it off with a big lock from his pocket that he sealed with a lick-print.

  He turned around. ‘Let’s do the back too.’

  ‘Tom, stop. What is going on?’

  ‘I don’t know. It could be anything.’

  ‘The psis?’ Garth asked, followed by Bjorn’s, ‘Pierre Jnr?’ Zach didn’t say anything.

  ‘I don’t know, boys. But there is trouble out there and we need to lock in.’

  ‘Don’t you think we should get out of here?’

  ‘Where? And how?’ Tom answered. ‘We don’t have enough room for everyone.’

  ‘We could go to Lily’s parents’ farm,’ Bjorn said. ‘And make two trips. It’s only an hour there and back.’

  Then there was a scream from inside. They spun on their heels to run indoors, Zach at the front.

  When they got upstairs, they found the girls gathered around Inez, her complexion pallid and breathing heavily through her mouth.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Tom called out.

  ‘She’s seeing things,’ one said.

  ‘She’s gone crazy,’ said another.

  ‘Thinks she saw a giant out the window.’

  ‘Inez, are you okay?’ Tom was beside her and sat her down on the bed. ‘Inez? Can you speak?’

  Zach went to the window, a small single-pane that was too high for the younger children. From here he could see over the low rows of houses in the suburb and behind them, intersecting at the boulevard, a seething reaching wall of smoke. Inside it were flashes of coloured light, like fireworks.

  ‘Tom … Lily,’ he said. The man was still trying to comfort Inez. ‘You should see this.’

  Lily came to the window and took one look before turning back to the room. ‘Everyone, get to the cellar.’

  ‘Lily? What is it? Is there something there?’ Tom asked. He stood up to see for himself and was transfixed.

  Lily clapped her hands. ‘Everyone, downstairs now. Take your blankets.’

  ‘But …’ a few boys stuttered, wanting to stay and watch the excitement.

  ‘Do what we’re telling you!’ Tom shouted. ‘Do it. Now. Everyone, down to the cellar.’

  ‘Blankets and pillows. Chip chup, hurry up.’ For Lily, the kids jumped to obey.

  ‘Hey,’ Zach said, ‘has anyone seen Bron?’

  Bronwyn was in the front garden, standing at the locked gate. The streetlights were out and frequent alarms were bleeping into the night’s silence. Smoke covered the sky and rose up in ten or so places on the horizon, coloured with unsteady lights. She could smell the air and watched the delicate descent of embers to the road.

  Bronwyn had gone back to collect some food from the kitchen and then found herself walking outside. The smoke had become a low cloud that bounced back the lights of the city.

  She stood at the locked gate, staring with intense
satisfaction at something in her hand … a bauble. A nearly smooth sphere the size of her knuckle.

  She didn’t know how the thing had gotten into her hand. Nor when she had come out into the front garden. The murmurs that had been in her head as long as she could remember became voices. Thoughts she could understand, that came from outside of her. It was a relief.

  She could feel Zach coming towards her, alarmed at the thought of her being hurt. He hadn’t found her in the dorms and the bathroom stalls were empty. He’d searched the whole house before coming outside. She liked these feelings from him. This was how she liked him.

  ‘Bron? What are you doing?’

  Watching.

  She held out her other hand towards him and visualised him stepping forward and taking it. She could sense his thoughts, wondering what she was doing, if she had gone mad, and she smothered them in her imagination.

  Stay with me.

  The hex Humbolt had been assigned to was Services standard, a hexagonal structure of adjustable height, covered and adaptable for different use-configurations. Inside, it was empty save for two large metal contraptions with a bank of servitors standing in rows around them. A white plastic robot with a blank face-plate stood at the doorway. It didn’t move as he approached.

  ‘I’m Humbolt Schaff reporting for duty,’ he said to it.

  ‘Okay.’ A voice played from a concealed speaker. Its face-plate outlined a simple glowing line of a smile.

  Humbolt looked at it. He had never seen bots that looked like this. Its body was of polymer plating, with a smooth ferric face screen: an elegant design he hadn’t seen before. He moved on, concluding that it must be a safety precaution given the troubles.

  Next he went to inspect the first of the minifacs. A minifac is not one component, it is a miniaturised factory of replicators, refiners and servitors. In normal operation the servitors attended to the replicators and refiners, feeding raw materials into collectors that would filter and process them before setting one of the replicators to construct a predesigned component. The component was finished, anodised, painted or reinforced and then carried by a servitor to another magic box — sometimes called the workshop, sometimes the surgery — where the components were assembled with precise and delicate handling. Servitors could then be employed in the construction of larger items, such as vehicles, in which case they would then join the individual components and move the completed product to the distribution area.