by Al Robertson
‘OK enough,’ Leila replied. ‘So we can get to work. We need to locate the Shining City, find Dieter and get him out of there.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I need to know how you can help me.’ She was surprised at how confident she felt. She wondered briefly if it was a side-effect of wealth. ‘And then I’ll go and find Cassiel.’
The Counsellor nodded. ‘We need to consider Ambrose too. He’s going to have a difficult rebirth. He might not be responsible for his actions – but he’ll still remember them, and they’ll still haunt him. If we can show him exactly how he was manipulated, and who by, it’ll make things much easier for him.’
‘And he has some very important information. He knows who Deodatus’ next two victims are going to be. He saw their names pinned to the wall in Dieter’s workshop. When we talked at the wake you said you could search the memory seas for fetches awaiting rebirth. Can you find him?’
‘Normally, yes,’ replied the Counsellor. ‘But at the moment, I’m not sure.’
‘We need the names. Then we’d be one step ahead of Deodatus. We can be watching when the pressure men strike and we can follow them back to the Shining City. Get a location for it, work out exactly what it is. And then go in and get Dieter.’
‘When my expert was searching for Dieter, he felt… presences. Shadows in the depths, riding new currents. They got close enough to scare him, held far enough back to stay hidden. He came back in a panic. Told me he wouldn’t go out again until he was sure they were gone.’
‘Can’t you talk to him? Change his mind?’
‘I’ll do what I can. He’s a good man. He knows his duty. That’s all I can say.’ A pause. ‘And perhaps we should talk to the gods, too.’
Leila grimaced. ‘East wants to turn it all into a reality show. I don’t think she’d take it remotely seriously. The Rose might have fallen to Deodatus. Holt certainly has. But there’s Grey. He helped take down Kingdom. He’s a tough cookie. And he was Dieter’s patron. I run some of his apps myself.’
‘He’s not as tough as he’d like you to think. Breaking Kingdom took a lot out of him, he’s still rebuilding himself.’ The Fetch Counsellor looked worried. ‘And if the Rose has gone down, other gods might have too.’
Leila nodded. ‘We’d have no way of telling if Grey had fallen, would we? Until it was too late. Or any of the others, come to that.’
‘No, I don’t think we would.’
‘I never trusted them much anyway.’
The Counsellor nodded. ‘I think you’re right, Leila. For the moment at least, we should keep away from them. At least until we’ve got a better sense of exactly who Deodatus is. Keep all this between the two of us. ‘
‘Between the two of us and Cassiel. And she’s back in Docklands.’
‘Deodatus might spot you if you go looking for her. And then he’ll know that his attack on you failed.’
‘That’s why I need a ghost cloak. You’re going to set me up with one and then I’ll go after her.’
Chapter 17
Leila moved silently through the dead hours of the early morning, heading for Cassiel’s new office. The dark curve of Docklands rolled up ahead and behind her, roofing in her world. Streetlights glistened above like stars. She glanced out up the Spine towards space. Real stars hung there, cold and hard and disinterested. She hoped that the flies hadn’t found Cassiel yet. The mind had moved to Roidville, one of Docklands’ blander districts. Residential housing gave way to a selection of light-industrial facilities and serviced office blocks. Street lighting dropped orange cones of light through pale drizzle. The only people around were gun kiddies, scampering through the darkness, playing invisible games with imaginary enemies.
Leila knew that she made no sound, projected no image of herself, left no traces as she moved. The Fetch Counsellor had explained how the ghost cloak let her use the weave’s administrative channels to manifest. She was still virtually present in every location she passed through. But nobody there would pick her up unless she wanted them to, because their weaveware skipped over the bland, abstract admin data the white goods of Station broadcast through those channels. But it was one thing to know herself to be invisible, another to believe it. She still found herself glancing nervously into every doorway and alley, hesitating before turning each corner. Memories of the pressure man’s attack and – before that – the Blood and Flesh plague were fresh in her mind. She nudged the skull face into existence.
At last, she reached Cassiel’s new address. The mind’s rooms were on the first floor of a small office block. The softest of purple lights glowed from one window. The rest were dark. Leila imagined the mind’s body glowing gently in the darkness. She moved to the block’s door, glanced up at the camera nest mounted above it, then stopped, waiting for it to open, before remembering that the ghost cloak let her just move through it.
Stairs led up into darkness. A moment, and she was at the door to Cassiel’s apartment. She thought for a moment about messaging her to announce her arrival, but worried that she might reveal her presence to any watchers. Instead, she just stepped inside. If Cassiel was at home, she’d reveal herself. Otherwise, she’d slip away unseen. She quite looked forward to surprising her. She didn’t want to think about what she’d do if the mind had fallen to the pressure men. The skull face was a dense weight in her mind, hungry for a target.
The apartment cameras were glitched with static, fogging her vision. She moved down the passageway. Memories flared, showing her Ambrose’s flat, the last silent space she’d stepped into. Fear buzzed within her. The corridor flickered around her. Every door was closed. She told herself that she wasn’t afraid to step through the doors; wasn’t imagining all the dark tableaux that could lie beyond them. She slipped her audio sensitivity up, straining for any trace of Cassiel.
She remembered the soft, purple light she’d seen from outside and tried to work out which room it had come from. She nudged her audio feed up again. A low buzzing permeated the hallway, an empty white noise that seemed somehow corrupted. She thought of flies. The fly spray shimmered into being in her hand. The ghost cloak should hide her from them, too. That didn’t stop the fear. The buzzing came from a door at the end of the corridor. She nerved herself, then stepped through it.
One bare light bulb hung down from the ceiling. A dirty blind covered the window, ragged at the edges, stained down its centre. A sofa and armchair had been pushed to the walls, a small table between them. There were two pressure men slumped in the chairs, eyes closed, chins collapsed on to chests, pastel suits in antique styles writing the past across them. A wooden box sat on the table. It was criss-crossed with raised strips of wood and dusted with light golden patterns and scuffed weave sigils but, unlike Dieter’s box, it wasn’t cracked.
‘Fuck,’ breathed Leila.
The pressure men had pulled their jackets and shirts open to the waist, exposing two square, rotten, wood-bound absences. White specks wriggled within them, consuming decay. Leila was at once sickened and terrified. She couldn’t look away. She was invisible to the two of them, so she could inspect them properly. Apart from the twin dark holes, they were flawless. Their faces were cataloguemodel perfect, rich with a serene plastic beauty. Their bodies were lightly muscled and well proportioned. Their suits fascinated her, each a lethally precise evocation of a past in which she was small and powerless.
It occurred to her that she’d barely ever heard a pressure man speak. She wondered why they were so nearly mute. Perhaps Deodatus’ concerns were so clearly defined and non-negotiable that they had no reason to trade words with anyone else. And yet her brother had forced him into a negotiation, and had won considerable wealth for her. For a moment she wondered what Deodatus needed him for. But that was a distraction. I’m here for Cassiel, she reminded herself, glancing around the rest of the room. The sofa and chairs had been pushed back to make space for a black half-globe, a couple of metres round, that glo
wed from within with purple light. It was the source of the buzzing. Black flecks zig-zagged in the air. The flies were everywhere. Leila readied herself for an instant jump back to the Coffin Drives, then cautiously opened up the ghost cloak a little. Her social sensors snapped into action, telling her that Cassiel was present. They told her nothing about the pressure men. It was as if they didn’t exist. She told the cloak to let the mind perceive her presence, then said: ‘Cassiel?’
One of the pressure men stirred lightly. ‘Fuck,’ she gasped, closing herself back down again.
She wasn’t sure what to do next. She moved towards the globe. Its skin resolved into a black swarm, a scurry of scratching legs, dirt-flecked wings and hard, unmoving compound eyes. The flies didn’t seem to notice her. The pressure men stayed immobile. She opened herself up again, then once more whispered: ‘Cassiel?’ She glanced nervously over at the pressure men. This time there was no response. She sighed with relief.
Then Cassiel spoke. Her voice was faint. ‘Leila?’ she croaked feebly. ‘Is that you? Out there?’
‘Yes. With two pressure men. Unconscious. And one of the boxes that killed Dieter.’
‘They must have switched fully into their swarm.’ Cassiel’s voice was so quiet it barely penetrated the swarm’s low hum. ‘The flies are running a massive, co-ordinated intrusion attack on me. My defences are working them hard, but they won’t last for much longer.’
‘That’s not a problem. I’m going to get you out of here.’
‘Oh.’ It was a sound as much as a word, a weak shudder made audible. ‘Well, that’s very laudable. But I can’t rescue myself, so I really don’t think you’ll have much luck.’
‘Good grief, Cassiel. Have some faith at least.’
Leila wondered if there was enough fly spray to break the whole swarm. She imagined it stopping only some of the flies – and then the rest would realise she was there and try to attack her. Perhaps they’d succeed. She was potentially far more vulnerable to them than they were to her. And then there would be the pressure men to deal with. Her skull face lurked in her mind. It had only slowed her Shining City attackers. And it was a weapon unique to her. Deploying it now would let Deodatus know she’d survived their attempt to rewrite her memory. Dit’s work would be rendered useless. She peered at the half-globe, wondering if she could somehow just reach through it. But that was impossible.
‘Are you still there?’ asked Cassiel. ‘Are you planning to leave? I think you should.’
That stung. ‘Of course not. I’m working out how to help you.’
‘It’d be the smart thing to do. I can give you Totality contacts, but you’ll have to be careful.’ There was a pause. When Cassiel spoke again, there was real pain in her voice. ‘Some of them might have been compromised.’
‘I’m going to get you out of there, Cassiel. And then you’re going to help me get Dieter back.’ She readied the fly spray.
‘I have to say,’ continued Cassiel, ignoring her, ‘I always hoped for a more dignified end than this.’ She sounded like she was trying to cheer herself up. ‘Devoured by flies! It’s not good.’
‘Stop it,’ Leila told her. ‘You’re not going to die.’ She doublechecked that she was ready to leap back to the Coffin Drives. ‘I’ve already escaped a fly attack once.’ She popped the cap off the fly spray. ‘I think I can crash them. If I do, can you stand up to the pressure men?’
‘Of course,’ croaked Cassiel. Leila sighed. ‘But I can’t touch the flies,’ she continued, ‘and I’m much better equipped than you are. I can only hold them off, and that for not much longer. You really should put yourself first and leave. I’ve had a very rich life. I won’t break any hearts by passing away just now. If this is it, well – there it is.’
‘Don’t be such a bloody pessimist,’ Leila told her. Then – sending a silent prayer of hope down to the caretaker – she squeezed down and started to spray.
A cone of brilliant, iridescent light flared out from the can, dazzling in its multi-coloured intensity. Leila played it back and forth across the swarm, making sure that as many as possible were hit. It ran at peak brightness for a few seconds then sputtered and started to die out. A few final brilliant flashes and then there was nothing, the spray can feeling light and empty in Leila’s hand. The flies were left apparently untouched. The pressure men didn’t move.
‘Dammit,’ grumbled Leila. ‘Never trust a hippy.’
‘Was that it?’ asked Cassiel.
Leila grunted.
‘Perhaps now you’ll believe me. I’m just being realistic. When they do get through my shields, I’m going to trigger a low-level self-destruct. Hopefully take a few of them with me. On the plus side, at least your rescue attempt wasn’t effective enough to alert the swarm to your presence.’
Frustrated, Leila threw the spray can at the flies. She expected it to just bounce off them and roll away. Instead, it disappeared. A burst of white light flared up, then vanished. A blast of data leapt out into the weave and was gone, moving far too quickly for Leila to scan. And then, fly by fly, the swarm started to rise up.
‘Oh no,’ she said, moving back. ‘I think I might have just alerted them, after all.’ She readied herself for a sudden jump. She hated the thought of leaving Cassiel, but she couldn’t see what else to do.
‘Well, thanks for trying,’ said Cassiel. ‘I hate to say it, but I did tell you so.’
‘It’s not over yet, Cassiel.’ Perhaps she should risk the skull face, after all.
‘I’ll send you my contacts. Then you should go.’
Leila glanced over at the pressure men, expecting to see them waking. But they hadn’t moved. Their overlay flickered, tasteful antique suits leaping suddenly to monochrome then back again. There was a burst of visual static. For a moment, they were just pale, speckled silhouettes. It looked like their virtual systems were crashing. Back in the Shining City, the spray had only affected the flies. Either it was more powerful here, or the pressure men were more vulnerable.
Relief filled Leila. ‘Now that’s promising,’ she said.
Looking back, she saw that the swarm too was broken. The flies veered round the room in jagged, apparently random zig-zags. There was no coherence to their movement. Cassiel was visible, kneeling unclothed inside a softly glowing, purple dome. She raised her head.
‘My, my,’ she said. ‘You did it.’
‘I did tell you so. Now let’s get out of here.’
There was a light pattering. The flies had started to freeze in midflight, falling like raindrops made of black dust.
‘Defending myself took a lot out of me,’ replied Cassiel. ‘I won’t be moving quickly.’ The purple dome vanished. Her nanogel flickered like a dying candle. Crashed flies bounced off her. She shifted, moving slowly and painfully.
‘Gods, they hit you hard. How would you have handled the pressure men like that?’
‘I didn’t think I’d have to,’ replied Cassiel. ‘You’ve done well. And you’re hiding yourself surprisingly effectively.’ She almost sounded impressed. ‘Running on non-standard weave strata?’
‘It’s the ghost cloak Dieter built for the Fetch Communion,’ explained Leila.
‘Ah. You’re pretending to be a fridge.’
‘Something like that.’
Cassiel stood. Only one of her arms seemed to be working properly. ‘Where did you find the tool that crashed the flies?’ she asked.
There was no time to describe the caretaker or the Shining City. Leila settled for: ‘A friend.’ Urgency gripped her. ‘It might not last long. Let’s go.’ A thought struck her. ‘Do you need any clothes?’
Cassiel shook her head. ‘They’re an affectation. Help humans relate to us. Just get in the way now.’ Then she grunted with effort and took her first step. It wasn’t a success. She half fell, slumping loosely against the wall. That was when she saw the pressure men.
‘Oh,’ she said, shocked. ‘No.’
Leila followed her gaze. ‘Cassiel,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
The overlay had completely fallen away from them. Now their true selves were revealed. They were both minds, but they no longer belonged to the Totality. Their bodies were speckled through with small black dots and decay had spread across their skin.
‘So many flies,’ whispered Cassiel. ‘So deeply embedded.’
‘Underneath the pressure men,’ said Leila. ‘Minds that have fallen to Deodatus…’
There was a muddied shine to the two fallen minds, very different from the stained-glass purity of Cassiel’s glow. Both were pock-marked with blisters, craters and bruises, and both had one of the wooden boxes set into the lower part of their chests. White wriggled within them. They stank of decay.
‘Gods,’ breathed Leila, sickened. ‘They must have had the box ready to install in you.’
‘Nanogel is part-organic,’ said Cassiel. ‘They must let it rot to feed the flies.’ She sounded disgusted. ‘No wonder I could never catch them. The flies consume minds. They are my kin. They anticipated every move I’d ever make.’
One of the fallen minds twitched.
‘Let’s go,’ hissed Leila urgently.
Cassiel moved with a limping stagger. One leg dragged behind her. Chitin crunched beneath her feet. ‘If they wake,’ she grunted, ‘I could probably neutralise one of them. Maybe both.’
‘Let’s not hang around and find out, eh?’
Cassiel reached down and picked up the box. A thin skin of nanogel poured out of her fingers and flowed around it. ‘For study,’ she said.
‘Are you sure that’s safe?’
‘I’m isolating it.’ She held it up. ‘Coating it with an inert layer.’ The nanogel turned dark. The box was invisible. ‘Now we can go.’
Cassiel’s slow progress was an agony. Leila hovered around her as she inched out of the apartment, desperate to help and yet completely unable to do so. Cassiel moved in silence, swearing occasionally as she stumbled or half fell. They’d just pushed through the front door and reached the stairs when there was a loud crash behind them. Looking back, they saw the first of the pressure men staggering towards them, its overlay still down.