Now Julie had left him again but this time to save her daughter, and maybe make peace with a place that no longer cared for her. Was that what drew her there? Was it her perception of unfinished business? She’d inadvertently started the Darwin plague. He recalled the time he found her in the lower levels when he’d gone looking to rescue her, and she’d refused to go with him. She still intended to deliver into trustworthy hands the info-cube that held the answers to Darwin. It was only when Pols caught up to them and opened fire, that she relented. She’d finally left the cube with Frank, the only Pol she could trust because he wasn’t a Secret Pol. Daniel had never asked Aard about the state of Darwin in Icaria, and he knew Julie hadn’t either. Was she afraid of what the place might have become? Was she still blaming herself?
Now his beloved wife was hurt and needed him again...
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Angel patted his hand with an optimistic smile. “We’ll find her and bring her back.”
11
The skyship shuddered briefly as it landed on top of one of Icaria’s high towers that rose out of the decrepit outer façade of the ancient city. Julie recognized it as the Pol Station. Of course. No surprise there. Then a realization slammed into her and her breaths seized in her chest: what if she’d misinterpreted their motives and this was just a simple mission on the part of the Pols to bring Julie Crane, the murderer, back to justice. Was she headed straight to a Pol Station dungeon to await execution with no chance to plead her or her family’s case? Was it possible that Burke was the only one who knew the truth about her and now he’d disappeared?
The pilot was the first to leave the ship. He opened the passenger door and waited for them, right hand resting lightly on his holstered gun.
Before disembarking, Tyers turned to her and spoke for the first time since they’d lapsed into silence at the beginning of the trip. His one question told her he knew everything. “So, did they all come back?”
She knew he meant the lower order A.I. machine voices in her head. And probably SAM, too. “Yes,” she replied, deciding that there was no reason to hide it.
Tyers simply nodded. “Shall we?” he motioned to the ship’s exit. She clamored out of her chair then felt her knees cave in under her. He was at her side instantly and steadied her. Giddy under a hot wave of nausea, she reluctantly took his arm as they stepped off the ship. Once on the platform, she slid from his grasp and walked stiffly on her own behind Raymond to the door leading from the roof. Raymond stopped at the door. Tyers held his card in front of the I.D. plate and stood aside as the door opened for Julie to step inside. As she did he tilted his head and asked, “You’ve demonstrated quite clearly that you’re the independent type, but what was it you were doing, splintering off from your family?”
Taken off guard, Julie stammered as she passed him through the doorway, avoiding his eyes, “I just needed some time to myself.”
“Ah,” he nodded, raising a brow, following her inside with Raymond behind them. “A domestic dispute.”
“You might say,” she said in a hollow voice and looked away. Let him think that. Perhaps he wasn’t so far off the mark, she considered, thinking of Daniel’s likely reaction to what she’d done.
“Yeah, I’d heard that about you, too,” Tyers said with a slick grin. “Bit of a loner, eh? Never even joined the veemeld association, your own kind.”
Hard when you’re one-of-a-kind, she bit out the thought. Even the other veemelds would have thought of her as a freak back then.
“At any rate,” he went on, leading her down the hall, “you made it easier for us to retrieve you.” That was the idea, she thought sardonically. “If your mate is anything like you,” he blithely continued, “we’d have needed reinforcements.”
No mention of Angel. That was good, she decided, and turned her attention to her surroundings. Upon entering the building, she’d instantly noticed the change in the air quality and recognized the stale smell of re-circulated, vented air. The building seemed alive with the droning of machines and technology. She didn’t remember the halls being so narrow and cramped. She was struck by their bright cleanliness and felt self-conscious walking through them in her dirty hiking shoes. She must look filthy and she knew she stank because she hadn’t bathed in days and had hiked hard in the heat of summer.
Tyers led her to a small room. There was nothing in it save a second door, a wall vee-com and a swivel chair. They stood in the room as though waiting for something or someone. Julie noticed Tyers tapping his foot nervously. Within moments the far door opened and a slim but muscular man with a dour face and stern mouth strode in as if he owned the place. His head was shaven and he wore a green Enviro-Center uniform like Tyers. He looked uncomfortably familiar.
Ignoring Tyers for the subordinate he was, the man fixed sharp eyes on Julie. He glared at her with such fierce hatred she almost recoiled and wondered what she’d done to warrant such malevolence. She didn’t know him. Or did she? The man nodded, looking her over like merchandise, as if confirming his loathing with what he saw.
“Well, well,” he said in a basso voice that carried a tone of contempt. “So this is the legendary Julie Crane.” Even though he was looking directly at her, he’d made it clear in every way that he was not addressing her, as though she was a dumb animal.
Julie glanced down at herself and felt her face smolder. Her leather shorts and faded blouse were stained and torn. She and her clothes stank from nervous sweat. Her nails were chipped and filthy, her legs and arms smeared with soil and blood, her boots scuffed and caked in dirt. Her hair, at the best of times a mess, was a shocking matt that hung like string over her eyes and stuck out in all directions. She knew she looked like a wild animal, with a dirty face browned from the sun. No, not too impressive, she supposed, especially for someone who was trying to gain concessions for her family. But there was more to his hatred...
“The notorious Julie Crane,” he repeated as if to himself and pushed out his lips in sober thoughts. “The woman who likes to shoot people.” He paused, raised his chin and sneered, “The woman who single handedly caused the worst epidemic humankind has known, assassinated the Head Pol and sent the whole Pol force running in circles like city-fools chasing a fox in a forest.”
The man then turned toward the door through which he’d entered, dismissing her from his attention as though she was no longer in the room. At least now she knew her status in Icaria and fiercely stomped down on the anxiety pulsing up her throat. So, they were pinning the whole Darwin plague on her too. Why not? She’d given them the means, revealing herself as Prometheus with that info-cube. Now she knew what Burke had done with it, but she was tired and hungry and out of patience. “Am I under arrest? Why have you brought me here?”
The man halted at the door. “Get her cleaned up,” he said, not bothering to look back. “She looks and stinks like an animal.” He flicked a hand. “Use Suite One.”
Julie noticed the surprise in Tyer’s face. She drew what comfort she could from the man’s order. For whatever else it meant, at least she knew she wasn’t going straight to a dungeon and execution. Whatever they had in mind for her entailed some level of presentation.
“Then take her to the Pielou Med-Center for processing,” the man added and disappeared through the door that had just irised open.
That sounded less promising, Julie thought. The door hissed shut and she felt Tyers relax. The man obviously intimidated Tyers also. She bridled in her despair with a question. “Who was that?”
Tyers turned to her with an even look. “Brian Dykstra.”
She swallowed. “A relative of the previous Chief of Secret Pols?” Julie had been instrumental in John Dykstra’s arrest and incarceration twelve years ago. Not only had her model identified him as a Dystopian, but her research had also uncovered his involvement in criminal activities for Gaia.
“The son,” Tyers responded.
Jul
ie held back a grimace. John Dykstra had hated veemelds with a passion, especially her. So, apparently, did his son. He had good reason, she acknowledged she’d put his father in jail. “Your boss?” she asked, projecting a false calm in her voice.
Tyers scowled. “Yes.”
“And he answers to the Head Pol, I guess.”
“All in good time,” he said with a sneer. She was fishing but he didn’t take the bait. He turned to the door and she followed him out. Who’d replaced the dead Kraken? Who was the Head Pol now? She didn’t like the sound of Dykstra’s command to “process” her. What did he mean by that? Was Gaia still running everything, including the Circle and Icaria-5’s mayor? Twelve years ago Julie’s sleuthing had uncovered Gaia’s blackmailing of virtually every member of that planetary governing body, but it seemed as though that information, like other parts of her info-cube, had never made it out of Burke’s office. Julie shuddered as she thought of the DP, the place Gaia had had in mind for her once she’d discovered Julie’s lack of cooperation. No one ever left the DP, at least not in one piece.
There was one sure way to find out the truth, she thought, as Tyers led her out of the room back into the hallway where Raymond waited, but she stifled the urge to communicate with SAM again. SAM wasn’t SAM anymore. She wasn’t sure what her A.I. friend had become, now that he’d joined with Darwin’s virus, Proteus, and she wasn’t in a hurry to find out. Her strange, recurring nightmare flickered back and she felt her stomach twist. A disturbing idea that had been simmering in her mind surfaced briefly: that Proteus was behind the dream. That Proteus was sentient and messing with her psyche. The thought was too terrifying and she shoved it to the back of her mind again.
Tyers stopped at another door. When he opened it and motioned for her to enter past him, Julie saw that it was a large, fully furnished suite. Suite One. It looked oddly familiar. A swift appraisal revealed a set of glass doors leading to a patio, bathed in evening sunshine, two other closed doors and a set of doors for a lift. The room was elegantly furnished with comfortable chairs, a sofa and table, vee-com-equipped desk and artwork.
Tyers followed her into the room with a smirk. “Don’t bother with either that door or the lift,” he said. “They’re locked. There’s a bathtub in the washroom, there.” He pointed to the third door. “I suggest you clean up and change. I’ll have some clothes sent up via the washroom chute.” He moved back to the hall door. “I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the Med-Center to heal that arm and your other injuries.” He closed the door and she heard the click of the lock.
Left alone for the first time since she’d been apprehended, Julie gave in to emotional exhaustion and dropped into a plush chair. She closed her eyes and exhaled, long and slow. How was she going to convince these people to leave her and her family alone? Was she being held? And by whom? The success of her “mission” depended on the answers to these questions and she was now having her first major misgivings. In good time, Tyers had said. Yes, all in good time...
Swallowing down her rising confusion and despair, she refused to admit to having regrets. A part of her had felt inexplicable longing to return here and now that she was back, it felt all wrong. The city felt nothing like she’d expected. Instead of evoking warm familiar feelings, it felt like a foreign and eerie place from a discarded dimension of her existence. She remembered how she used to find the constant thrumming of the environmental system soothing. Now it only added to the discomfort she was feeling.
Even the machine voices in her mind annoyed her. They chattered in her head like a room full of strangers telling secrets she couldn’t understand and she kept shaking her head as if that would make them go away. Of course it didn’t. Then there was SAM, the one thing she’d openly looked forward to. Once her best friend, SAM was now a stranger to her. She felt betrayed somehow; and very lonely. She missed Daniel and Angel.
Blinking back tears, she pushed herself from the comfortable seat and wandered to the patio doors. They were locked, of course. She leaned her forehead against the glass and looked out onto the stark patio, unable to see beyond its walls to the heath. Her gaze rested on the evening sky, now inflamed with the blushing shades of red and ochre, and she imagined the heady fragrance of sweet bog and pepper and the rowdy clamoring of birds that rose at this time of the day.
After confirming that the other door and lift were indeed secured, she shuffled to the door Tyers had suggested. It opened into a spacious bathroom, complete with large bathtub, toilet and separate shower. Three of the walls were alive with the sights, smells and sounds of lush jungle vegetation—the latest in holo-art, she supposed. There was a second door but it wouldn’t budge. It probably led to the mystery room behind the locked door in the living room.
She started the water then gingerly undressed, wincing as pain shot through her arm. She dropped her filthy bloodstained clothes on the floor and stood watching the tub fill with churning water through a haze of thoughts.
As the laminar flow spilled into riotous tendrils only to find a uniform pattern of turbulence, she was once again reminded of her father and chaos theory. Stable chaos, he’d insisted, permeated everything and everyone. Like fractals of a larger interconnected universe, each person had his or her own cycle of creative destruction to experience before merging into a greater community of consciousness. Where was she in that cycle? Would she be as serene when it was her time like her father was the day the Pols took him?
12
It was over twelve years since she’d had a warm bath, Julie thought as she slid into the steaming water and shuddered with the tingling rush of awoken sensation. Unfortunately that also included her many cuts and scrapes, which stung sharply. As if the little injuries awoke the large one, her arm began to throb angrily under the bandage and the slightest movement sent a jagged shaft of intense pain splintering through her. She supposed that in actuality it was simply the mitigin wearing off, then she saw that blood and fluid had seeped through the bandage and felt a pulse of alarm. Trying to keep the arm out of the water, Julie washed her hair and body with her other hand, soaping herself in slow caressing motions, then rinsed.
She lay back in a half-daze and let memories scud in—memories of when she and her father stood, marveling at a sunset, perhaps for the last time before the Pols took him away for a murder he didn’t commit. Her father’s eyes had creased when he smiled and lifted his face from its usual sadness. He had been a quiet man of few words, but with an intensity that often struck her with awe. Julie recognized nature’s role in her father’s demeanor. Under the sunset’s forgiving radiance, his bronze face had glowed like a warrior poet as he sucked on his pipe. She remembered savoring the sweet scent of burning pipe tobacco and watching the plume of blue smoke curl over his shoulder. It rose, then broke up into swirling tendrils as he lectured her.
“We have much to learn in stable chaos science, Angel. Ecosystems cycle over millennia in ways we may never discern. This heath, for instance, is a complex system, poised on the edge of chaos. It has the ability to balance order and chaos in ways we have yet to comprehend. Creation and destruction are parts of the same thing, Angel. The laws of thermodynamics dictate that everything degenerates toward entropy. Yet spontaneous order exists all around us in galaxies, cells, ecosystems and human beings. We’ve miraculously managed to assemble ourselves from a primordial, chaotic, soup of chemicals.”
“Mom says God made us.”
Her father smiled thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s the same thing.”
She slipped her hand into his much larger one and rubbed against him like a cat, studying his great hand. It wasn’t the hand of an outdoorsman. Neither rough nor callused like her uncle’s, whose brown paws were seamed and cracked from the sun. Her father’s hands were pale and smooth like her mother’s, with slender fingers. They were the hands of a scientist who wrote intelligent words. Secure in his firm grip, she was convinced that her father and his words would p
rotect her against anything...
More memories bubbled up in a febrile mixture of garish images...trying to keep up with her mother as she pulled her and her sister through a sea of people and droids, then feeling her mother’s hand slip away...striding the glittering malls festooned with cultured parks and fragrant gardens...pushing her way into the crowded tube-jet...sitting in her dark office and laughing at SAM’s crazy jokes...watching in frozen anguish as her friend, Nancy, was Shamed, then feeling the disgrace of her own Shaming...discovering that she was Prometheus and that her own father had given her away as a child to science without asking her and damned her to Darwin disease...discovering that her lost sister had died of it...stunned by her Uncle Bobby’s suicide in the Pol Station after he was arrested for peddling dystopian literature...quarrelling with Frank, then shooting him out of uncontrollable rage...
Out of those dark swirling visions, thoughts of Daniel floated to the surface...When they’d first snuck out of Icaria to walk the beach of Lake Ontario, already in love but too shy to admit it...the time she and Daniel bathed naked in a shallow lake the first day they’d left Icaria for good. She’d bashfully undressed in front of him then took his tenderly offered hand and followed him into the chilly water. They washed each other, then, still dripping wet, they made love in the shallows—
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