by Al Robertson
Glancing over at Ambrose, Leila saw tears on his face.
‘I’m not afraid anymore,’ he said. ‘It’s gone. I just remember why we used to come to places like this. Gods, I’ve missed it.’
Leila squeezed the pendant until its sharp edges stung her. Regret filled her. She’d been so dismissive of the Lazarus Crew. But she’d have loved to share a moment like this with her brother. And she would, she promised herself, once she’d bought him back from Deodatus. As loss and hope combined within her, the fire and the song began to sicken. Jagged shards of static shattered through the music, breaking its harmony. The flames flickered in and out of existence. Glitches tore at her eyes as the room bounced between two states, flaring out her vision until it became impossible to see anything. A vast industrial clamour took over from the perfect vision of Mikhail’s ordered cosmos.
‘Server’s dying,’ Ambrose whispered. ‘Spinning out of control. Cuttlefish’s shutting it down.’
The last thing she saw was words, written in a text that was both somehow familiar and illegible, hanging over every single one of the arches which surrounded them. There was a single short word above the opening in the floor, burning far brighter than all the rest. One last, blinding flare flashed out, and then they were back in the cold, dark room. The faintest suggestion of gold hung in the gloom above them – a reminder of a divine brand experience that could never be repeated.
‘What did all the words say?’ asked Leila.
‘Station standard language, but Mikhail’s font is centuries out of date. Very difficult to read if you’re not used to it.’
‘I’ll say.’
‘Basically, they were destinations. This must have been one of Mikhail’s digital movement hubs. If you were fully virtual, like us, you could use it to get anywhere.’ Ambrose’s voice echoed in the dark empty space. ‘The open doors will lead to places that are still there – Bahariya Station, Farafra Station, Siwa Station. There’ll be doors to Station One, Station Two and Station Three. We think that’s what they used to call Docklands, the Wart and Homelands. And the blocked ones go to places that just don’t exist anymore.’
‘And what did the word over the pit in the floor say?’
‘Well, that’s the funny thing. The pit only had a descriptor. And it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Something very simple. All in capitals. DOWN.’
Chapter 12
It was easy to remember the moments before the fall. The cuttlefish pulsed excitedly and Ambrose said: ‘They took Dieter into the pit. And they left a record of the jump behind. We can go straight to wherever he ended up!’ Then he told the cuttlefish to take them down.
But after that, there was no coherence. It was as if not just space but time itself had fractured. Leila could remember individual moments, but they were jumbled together in her mind like playing cards in a well-shuffled deck. She glimpsed a white tower, wreathed in green. There was a plunge through darkness, moving first down then – after a sudden, brutal, stop – sideways. The cuttlefish pulsed red and squealed out an alarm, but she couldn’t stop herself from falling. She clutched Ambrose as wind roared past them, then her empty hand grasped nothing. Brilliant light flared and she squeezed her eyes shut, howling with the shock of it all.
And then it all stopped.
For a moment, there was nothing for Leila’s senses to show her. Then fresh data leapt into them, and place reappeared around her.
She was lying on her back on a cold, hard floor, her arms and legs splayed out, her eyes still closed.
She let nothing happen for a minute or so. There was no more movement, no more chaotic bursts of sound and light. Her new environment was apparently stable. She opened her eyes. Her cord rose up into the ceiling. She was relieved to see that it hadn’t turned red. She lay between a wall and a long low table, softly lit by pale, silver light from a wall of windows. There were shelves above her. She couldn’t see what was on them. A shapeless mass of clothing lay just next to her. She nudged it and it groaned. It was Ambrose.
‘Fucking hell,’ he said. His cord was also intact.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’ll live.’ He sat up and winced. ‘Oh, my head!’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘We travelled a long way. Must be on a different satellite.’ The cuttlefish popped into being in front of him and touched a tentacle to his forehead. A moment’s silence, then he sighed with relief. ‘Well, I’m uncorrupted,’ he told Leila. The cuttlefish swam across to Leila. ‘Better let it check you.’
Its tentacle was cold against her skin. She experienced the little programme’s query as a shiver that ran through her whole body. ‘You’re fine,’ confirmed Ambrose.
‘Great. Now let’s work out where we’ve ended up.’ The cuttlefish rose between them, all tentacles stretched out. ‘It’s scanning,’ Ambrose said. A moment, then: ‘Everything we can see is virtual. We’re either inside a server somewhere or in a real space that’s been entirely overlaid with weave content. And we’re at least five hundred kilometres from our last location…’
Leila stood, seeking a better view of the room. Ambrose muttered something technical about more precise location checks, as much to himself as to her. Leila didn’t really take it in, because she was suddenly overjoyed.
‘We’ve found him,’ she breathed. ‘We’ve found Dieter.’
‘Really?’ replied Ambrose as he staggered to his feet. ‘Ah,’ he continued. ‘I think you’re right.’
Leila, Ambrose and the cuttlefish were at one end of a long, narrow space, filled with stripped pine tables. Windows ran down white stone walls, with pale shelves climbing up between them. And the tables and shelves were filled with all the virtual clutter that had once filled Dieter’s weavespace. There was a vacuum tube here, a set of yellowed dials there, Bakelite knobs beneath a dusty television screen, antique keyboards with cracked keys held up by slim, black, moulded metal stalks. Leila recognised none of the instruments individually, but – taken as a whole - the style was unmistakable. Dieter loved collecting vintage weave objects. He dressed up his own exploration and analysis apps to look like them. The room was full of his work. A moment for emotions to surge through her – relief, anger, hope, fear – and then Leila forced herself to focus. Past the windows there was a doorway which led into another room. She set off towards it.
‘Wait a second,’ called Ambrose. ‘Best to be cautious. Run some more security checks. Work out exactly where we are.’
Leila ignored him. She glanced out of the windows as she passed them. They gave on to a silent, shining cityscape. Off-white clouds hung in a black sky, lit by the pale glow of a full moon. There was a broad, open street, bounded by a long, low colonnade of simple, elegant pillars and a high wall punctuated with empty doorways. In the distance there was an open piazza, a fountain dancing at its centre. Under the moonlight, all seemed whiter than it should be. All was perfectly symmetrical, carved out of the night with sharp, clean lines – all, that is, except the pale, pastel coloured bundles that lay everywhere. Leila slowed a little, wondering what they were. At first, she thought they were just fabric. But then she saw pale limbs, and hair, and soft, still faces. The streets were scattered with people. Perhaps they were asleep; perhaps they were dead. The clothes they wore drew on the same pastel palette as the pressure men’s suits.
Then she was through the door and into a large round room. Pure white walls supported a domed ceiling. Panes of glass showed the dark sky. The floor was grey stone. The room was empty but for another stripped pine desk pushed up against one wall, two occupied couches lying head to head – and her brother, leaning over one of them.
‘Dieter,’ shouted Leila. He was concentrating deeply and didn’t hear her. ‘Dieter!’ she called again as she ran towards him. As he turned she was on him, hugging him tight.
For a moment, she lost herself in h
im, so relieved to have found him. But he didn’t return the hug. And he felt wrong. There was a permanent tremor running through him, a soft vibration that made holding him close a profoundly discomfiting experience. She stepped back to look at him.
He wasn’t quite fully present. His body was softly blurred, shifting forwards and backwards between different versions of itself. His face was a shimmer too, never quite settling down. Graphically, he presented as slightly blocky, running at a far lower resolution than was the norm for fetches. She remembered what the Fetch Counsellor had said. Only the Fetch Communion could create true fetches. Soon, this flawed version of him would start to corrupt his weaveself, breaking the chains that held his past together.
‘Leila? What are you doing here?’ He sounded deeply shocked.
‘I’ve come to take you home.’
‘Gods. I can’t. I’ve got work to do.’ He gestured towards the figures in the couches.
Leila took her first proper look at them. She recognised the two Deodatus beneficiaries – Andre Herrera and Mo Fafanwe – from images from the InSec case file. The eating champion’s bulk made the psychologist seem tiny. Neither looked alive. Their faces had been simplified, becoming caricatures, and the colour had been leached out of them until they were almost monochrome. They reminded her of shop window dummies. She recognised the couches, too. They were the ones that Dieter had built to help her heal, after the Blood and Flesh attack.
‘What’s happened to them?’ she asked. ‘And what are you doing with them?’
Dieter ignored her questions. ‘How did you even find me, Leila?’
Ambrose entered the room, the cuttlefish drifting along with him.
‘Oh, gods,’ groaned Dieter, looking even more depressed.
‘Hello there,’ Ambrose said cheerfully. ‘I helped her. Used one of the sharks, then we came down through an old Kingdom satellite.’ He looked around. ‘This is quite the home you’ve made for yourself.’
Dieter ran a hand through his hair. ‘You idiots. You’re going to screw it all up.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ said Ambrose cordially.
‘You’ve got to come back with us, Dieter,’ Leila told him.
‘I can’t,’ he replied. ‘Even if I wanted to. I’ve signed a contract. Which includes full non-disclosure. Shit, if Deodatus works out you’re here, we’re fucked.’ He looked up at Leila. ‘I told you not to worry about me. I made sure you wouldn’t lose the flat. I set everything up for you. It was all sorted out.’
‘I had to come after you,’ replied Leila, at once hurt and worried. ‘Running like this – after a month or so it’ll shred your weaveself. You’ll be truly dead.’
‘Do you think I didn’t think of that?’ Dieter was exasperated. ‘I know exactly how fetches work. I rebuilt you, didn’t I? That’s why they wanted me down here.’ He gestured toward the couches. ‘After they fucked up these two. I’ll be back on Station in a month.’ He thumped his shimmering chest. ‘Of course this isn’t permanent.’
‘You’re coming back? Why couldn’t you tell me?’
‘I told you, non-disclosure. Deodatus wants all this kept quiet.’ He glanced past Leila. ‘Ambrose!’ he called out. ‘Get away from that!’
Ambrose was at the desk. It was piled high with drifts of papers. A single piece of paper hung above it, with two names written on it in black pen. He peered at them. ‘And who are these guys? More victims?’
‘Oh, for gods’ sake.’ Dieter marched over and snatched the paper off the wall, crumpling it up. ‘Nobody’s a victim. They’re both terminally ill, just like the first two. Their families will do very well out of it. And they’ll be back on Station getting ready to become proper fetches in a month or so, just like me.’ He steered Ambrose back towards the centre of the room. ‘I’m serious. You guys have to go.’
‘Not unless you come with us,’ replied Leila. She sounded slightly less decisive than she wanted to. Perhaps Dieter really did have everything under control.
‘I can’t,’ replied Dieter. ‘Not until I’m done here. You just have to trust me. I’ve always made the right decisions for us before, haven’t I?’
‘Dieter.’ Now it was Leila’s turn to be exasperated. ‘Stop being such a big brother. I’m not a little girl. And even when I was, I could look after myself. You too. Gods, without my food packets when you were squatting, you’d have starved.’ Dieter looked suitably abashed. ‘So perhaps all this is going to work out fine. Perhaps being here is a brilliant decision. But all I can see is something that looks deeply, deeply dodgy. I want you out of this place and back home.’
‘She’s right,’ chipped in Ambrose. ‘All this is a bit odd, you know.’ He wandered over to a window. ‘Lovely place, very tasteful, but rather bleak.’
‘It’s all sorted out,’ sighed Dieter. ‘I’m fine. I’m doing good work here and I’ll be back home as soon as possible. Big things are going to happen. And we’ll be loaded.’
‘If you want to convince me of that, you’ve got to tell us what on Earth is going on.’
Dieter sighed. ‘And you won’t go anywhere unless I do, will you?’
Leila imagined him remembering decades of similar conversations. Once she’d made up her mind, she was usually immovable. She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Oh dear.’ He leant back against one of the couches. ‘OK. I’ll tell you what I can.’ He stopped to think for a moment. ‘So, you’re right. I’m down here because of Deodatus. Oh, and he’s not an it – he’s a he. He’s very old and he’s very powerful, and he knows a lot more about the past than we do. He wants to share that knowledge.’ Dieter’s eyes gleamed. ‘You won’t believe what he’s got to tell us. So, he’s going to leave this place and come to Station. And I’m helping him.’
And then he stopped.
Leila and Ambrose waited expectantly.
‘Well, that’s it,’ Dieter told them.
‘You haven’t really told us anything,’ said Leila accusingly.
Dieter looked helpless. ‘I can’t, Leila.’
‘Can’t you even let us know where we are?’
‘I’m afraid not. I mean – this place is the Shining City. But that’s just my name for it. I can’t tell you what it’s really called or where it really is.’ He grinned excitedly. ‘It’ll blow your mind when you find out!’
‘Dangerous things come from the past,’ said Ambrose seriously. ‘I hope you’re being careful.’
‘Oh, everything’s fine. Deodatus is perfectly trustworthy.’
‘Are you sure?’ Ambrose looked haunted. ‘You’re being very casual about all this. Remember Cormac, old man.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Dieter. ‘Has something happened to him?’
‘No.’ Ambrose shook his head. ‘Nothing’s changed.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’ Dieter was genuinely baffled. ‘I mean – him and the family, everything’s great, isn’t it? Haven’t seen them for a while, but – we’re all busy these days. Hardly any time for Lazarus Crew stuff anymore.’
‘His family died,’ Leila said. ‘It’s why you and Ambrose stopped exploring.’
‘His family are fine.’ Dieter looked mystified. ‘I stopped all that because I had to look after you.’
‘You really don’t remember?’ asked Leila.
Dieter shook his head.
Ambrose suddenly looked very serious. ‘Can you remember Holt?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ replied Dieter, looking a little puzzled. ‘One of InSec’s anti-terror people. He kept an eye on us when everyone thought we might be terrorists. Digging a bit too far into Station’s infrastructure.’
‘No. He’s one of their antiquities experts. He kept an eye on us because the gods are scared shitless of the psychoactive technologies that we could have found. That Cormac did find.’
Dieter started to look nervous
. ‘You’re making that up,’ he said.
‘He’s not,’ Leila told him. Disquiet pulsed through her. ‘An artefact killed Cormac’s family. Psychoactive artefacts can rewrite minds. The past left a lot of scary stuff out there.’
‘I haven’t been out in the field for years,’ added Ambrose. ‘Too scared of what I might lose.’ He turned to Leila. ‘This is why he’s helping Deodatus,’ he told her.
‘He can’t remember what it might lead to.’ She turned back to Dieter. He shimmered in front of her, worry pulsing across version after version of himself. ‘The Fetch Counsellor warned me about this. Deodatus has wiped some of your memories and rewritten other ones. He’s made you forget just how dangerous very old things can be.’ Fear gave her voice an edge. ‘He’s using you, Dieter.’
‘That can’t be true.’
‘Why would we lie to you?’ asked Leila.
‘Why would Deodatus?’ Dieter hit back. But there was fear in his voice too.
Leila welcomed it. They were getting through to him. ‘Because he needs you.’ She wanted to grab him and shake him and yell at him. But she’d never been able to make him do anything. ‘And if you knew the truth, whatever it is, you wouldn’t help him. You have to come back with us, Dieter. Tell us what’s really going on.’ She put as much force into her voice as she could. ‘He’s changing you.’ His memories made him himself. He could lose so much.
‘We really can’t trust Deodatus,’ Ambrose said. ‘Look at what he’s done to you. Leila’s right.’ He looked around nervously. The work room and the city beyond it were as serene as ever. ‘We all have to get out of here. Right now.’
‘I can’t leave,’ snapped Dieter, fear becoming defensiveness. ‘I made a deal. And of course we can trust him. If we couldn’t – if he’s as dangerous as you say – well, I’d be building him an army. And that’s absurd.’