Crashing Heaven

by Al Robertson

  ‘Shit, Jack. Why can’t you just trust me?’

  ‘We can’t risk anyone finding out you’re uncaged. And I don’t want Grey – or anyone else – watching us.’

  Fist vanished in a puff of swearing. Jack sighed. The past was so much simpler than the present. Perhaps even now his mother was asleep again, his father lying awake and puzzled. He wondered if she’d told him whose presence she’d perceived. Perhaps she’d just explain the moment away as a glitch that caught at sleeping fetches. He took one last look out at Docklands. Without the weave there were only buildings, streets and empty spaces to see, rolling up and away until the glare of morning’s spinelight hid them. The living city had covered its face and hidden itself again.

  Chapter 30

  ‘I’d forgotten how efficient the cageware is,’ said Ifor. ‘You’ve got no weavetrace at all. If I couldn’t see you sat in front of me, I wouldn’t believe you were here.’

  They were in the back room of a café in the Labokra Food Market. Outside, a thousand shoppers bustled, rooting around for the day’s bargains. Inside, a credit transfer to the café’s owner ensured absolute privacy. He’d grumbled about squishies until Ifor told him how much he’d pay to talk in secret.

  ‘People won’t accept InSec credits,’ explained Jack. ‘And we can’t travel beyond Docklands. It’s frustrating.’

  ‘I can imagine. Your society—’

  ‘Not my society any more.’

  ‘This society, then. It makes such extensive use of the virtual. They have crippled you by holding you away from it.’

  ‘I thought I was coming home. But so much of my home was the weave.’

  ‘And even without that, so much of Station is closed off to you. The Wart, Homelands …’

  ‘I never really spent much time in the Wart. But I’d love to go back to Homelands. There are gardens there I’d like to walk in, one more time. Malls I’d like to visit.’

  [Shitholes,] muttered Fist.

  ‘Old friends?’

  ‘None that would acknowledge me.’

  ‘Your parents?’

  ‘I visited my father.’ The silence between them stretched out. ‘We didn’t have too much to say to each other.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘She’s dead. I haven’t seen her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jack. For her, too. We feel a certain kinship with your poor crippled fetches. They are so close to being pure minds like us. Letting those who claimed to love them treat them so badly is an obscenity. It denies your dead their true potential.’

  ‘People don’t always like to let the past go.’ Jack thought of Harry and Andrea, of his father’s refusal to roll back his mother. ‘Very few of them are brave enough.’

  ‘They fear change. It always involves at the very least a little death, an acceptance of limitations. But our time here is limited. We have our own change to discuss. You wish to accept our offer?’

  ‘I would be honoured to commit to the Totality’s service.’

  ‘I’m surprised. You seemed so determined to remain independent.’

  [ The squishy’s got a point,] Fist advised. [ Better bluff him well!]

  Jack picked up his teacup. It was uncomfortably hot to the touch. He blew gently on the surface of the steaming liquid, waking tiny ripples, and took a sip. Heat nipped his tongue.

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s really independent, Ifor. There are people we’re each connected to, obligations we all have.’

  ‘You’re referring to Corazon.’

  ‘You heard about that?’

  ‘We were saddened by her death. She helped us in our mission here. Her open-mindedness was impressive.’

  ‘She was a very sharp woman. A sad loss.’

  ‘We paid our respects to her family and to East.’ Ifor paused. ‘Who let us know that you had been granted certain … special privileges.’ He placed heavy emphasis on the last two words. Another silence fell between them. The café owner was whistling in the room next door; cutlery clinked and rattled as he cleaned it. A poorly tuned buggy snarled past outside.

  ‘OK,’ said Jack. ‘Fist – manifest.’

  Fist appeared, standing on the table. He was dressed in full white tie, a monocle and a top hat.

  ‘I thought I’d smarten up for our second meeting. How do you do?’

  He stuck a little hand out. Ifor reached out and pretended to shake it. ‘The firewall,’ he said, ‘it’s your work?’

  ‘Yes. We need to pretend that the cage is still fully active.’

  ‘Most impressive. And now, let us talk openly. You have come to take up our offer of employment, and you intend to use the diplomatic immunity we offer to pursue Corazon’s killers.’

  [ He’s very direct, Jack!]

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Jack. ‘I’m sorry I hid that.’

  ‘An unfortunate human habit. Is there anything else we should know?’

  [Play your cards close to your chest, Jack.]

  ‘Aud Yamata has had Pantheon-level backing for at least seven years. She killed Corazon, and probably also Harry Devlin, his wife Andrea Hui and Bjorn Penderville. Fetches of those involved were either corrupted or caged. I was sent away to fight because I was too close to exposing her and her patron. They’re still active, still dangerous and they want Fist. Gods know what they’ll do with him. I can’t let it happen. I intend to find out who’s supporting Yamata and expose both of them.’

  [Oh, for gods’ sake.]

  ‘A very personal quest.’

  ‘They broke my life. I’ve lost people I love. And I don’t want to see Fist and his powers abused by those bastards. They’ve done enough damage already.’

  ‘Excellent points. If your little friend fell into the wrong hands it could be dangerous for us too. But I worry that emotion has clouded your judgement; that supporting you would hurt us. We are in very delicate negotiations with your Pantheon just now, Jack.’

  ‘Fist and I are very discreet. We were built to work in secret. And I’m sure you’d rather be confident you’re negotiating with the Pantheon’s more trustworthy elements.’

  ‘East has made it known that she would be grateful if we were to support you.’

  ‘Such gratitude would, I’m sure, translate into support for some of your key requests.’

  ‘Indeed. Her image management capabilities would also be very useful to us as we grow our presence on Station. You are sure of Pantheon corruption?’

  ‘There’s no doubt about it.’

  ‘Proof of that, shared appropriately, would also help us build a future we could both approve of.’

  ‘I hope you won’t expect me to hide anything from Station’s authorities.’

  ‘We might perhaps ask you to ensure that it reaches us before it reaches them.’

  ‘I’ve said before I won’t play favourites.’

  ‘And you have no love for the Pantheon. We at least proceed on the basis of rational thought and a commitment to the general good, rather than naked self-interest.’

  ‘I’ll think about that, Ifor.’

  ‘That is generous of you. Oh, and one more thing …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I cannot overemphasise the importance of discretion. I’ll send you a search brief. You must be seen to stick to it. More personal investigations must be well hidden.’

  ‘We’ve had a lot of practice at that.’

  ‘Oh, we know,’ countered Ifor. ‘To our cost.’

  At that, Jack felt ashamed. Fist just tittered.

  There was little more to be said. Outside, the light was dimming. Ifor stopped Jack at the door.

  ‘The Totality is very grateful for your help.’

  Ifor put his hand out to shake. His nanogel was surprisingly soft and cold to the touch. Jack’s grip bent his fingers slightly out of shape.

  [Keep squeezing,] whispered Fist. [See if you can pop him!]

  [ Forget your programming for once.]

  Ifor pulled his collar up and his hat down, and l
ost himself in the bustle of the marketplace. Half an hour later, the Totality confirmed Jack’s diplomatic status. He packed his little suitcase, said an apologetic goodbye to Charlie, found the best hotel he could and booked himself in.

  Within twenty minutes, InSec were banging at his door. Jack flashed his diplomatic tags and told them to fuck off. Fist cackled. Half an hour later, he was asleep. Next morning, there were messages from Lestak and Harry, and a file from Ifor. Jack skipped over Lestak’s rage to Harry’s message. ‘Fist was right. It’s her. Get over here.’ Ifor’s file included a search plan for streets in Chuigushou Vale and Violin Gardens and access codes for mind detection software.

  The bellboy delivered his new clothes with his breakfast; well cut, subtly woven fashions from a small but prestigious Homelands fashion house. They fitted him perfectly. Even Fist was impressed. ‘At last,’ he commented, donning black tie, an opera cape and a top hat, ‘a little sophistication. Now let’s go hunting squishies.’

  Chapter 31

  As they left the hotel, a porter enquired about the length of Jack’s stay. Fist was unimpressed.

  [ Unctuous fuck. I preferred Charlie.]

  [ He was a funny man.]

  [ He was very lonely.]

  Jack was surprised that Fist had seen through Charlie’s façade. Such precise emotional details usually escaped him. [ Fancy moving in with him instead of me?] he asked.

  [ Fuck right off!]

  Fist picked over the Totality software as their train rattled through the Wart. [ It’s fascinating!] he chirped. [Completely open, I can just walk right into all the source code.]

  [Different from Pantheon products.]

  [ No licensing, no end date. Maybe there is a point to them after all.]

  [So what does it do?]

  [Minds are all connected all the time. Even when a bit of one’s dormant, it pings for any other units around it. The software sweeps for those signals. But they need to be pretty close for it to work.]

  Jack had to change trains at Vitality Junction. InSec were waiting for him. Operatives pulled him out of the carriage. ‘Lestak wants to see you,’ one of them said, hustling Jack down the platform.

  She was furious. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ she raged.

  ‘I’m doing something useful for people who deserve help.’

  ‘They’re not people, they’re an operating system with ambitions. And you’re ignoring my direct warning. I told you to step back.’

  ‘I’m here under a diplomatic licence, as specified in the initial Pantheon/Totality peace treaty. I’m outside your jurisdiction.’

  ‘So you’re a lawyer now?’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘You have no right to be in Homelands. At best you’ll get in the way, at worst you’ll cause chaos. Lethal chaos.’

  ‘I’m here to look for mind fragments on behalf of the Totality. That’s it.’

  ‘Then you’d better make damn sure you stick within the terms of your licence. If you take just one step over the line I’ll have you in a Turing cage in an InSec cellblock faster than you can take your next breath. And if that puppet of yours comes out to play I’ll have you in a coma until it takes over, and as far beyond as I can possibly manage.’

  ‘Let’s be very clear, Lestak. There’s no way that you’ll catch me stepping out of line.’

  Another train neared the station.

  ‘For gods’ sake. Get out of here.’

  ‘With pleasure.’

  A few minutes later, Jack and Fist rattled into Violin Gardens. [ It’s residential space leased to mid-level executives,] explained Jack. [People who watch Heaven every day but are never going to get there.]

  [Sounds like torture.]

  [ I was one of them once. I was happy enough.]

  Violin Gardens was circular. A thousand windows reflected light into the complex’s central garden space. Streams and little waterfalls danced between spiked brown metal shapes that were simplified representations of trees. They were rammed into areas of patchy grass like stubbed-out cigars.

  [ How far onweave do you want to be, Jack?]

  [Same as everyone else.]

  Brown metal became deep-textured bark. Leaves sprang out of branches. A beautiful lawn bloomed from the scrubby grass, striped pale then darker green where an imaginary lawnmower had moved up and down. Birds flashed red and purple between the trees. Their songs mingled with the susurrus of the streams and the soft, rich sighing of a thousand violins.

  [So that’s where it got the name.]

  [Apparently the classical music stops teenagers from hanging out.]

  [ Typical Pantheon, even the art’s there to control you.]

  There were a few people wandering through the gardens. Some walked arm in arm. Others lay on the soft turf, staring up at the Spine. The gods returned their gaze. Their Homelands incarnations were higher resolution and more imaginatively animated than those that overlooked Docklands. Even Grey’s raven – still chained – was more active, hopping from leg to leg and occasionally trying to scratch itself with its beak.

  [East is certainly cute,] said Fist. [ I bet you’d love another upgrade from her.]

  [ I never enjoy not being able to choose.]

  As Jack spoke, the goddess turned her face towards him. Golden hair billowed up and around her head, sparkling weightlessly in the sunlight.

  [ Fuck, Jack, she’s looking right at you.]

  [More than looking.]

  The goddess winked from on high.

  [Shit,] said Jack.

  [ That was public,] said Fist. [Everyone will have seen it.]

  And indeed everyone was pointing up, then looking around to see who East could have been communing with. A soft sound drifted around Jack, almost lost in the birdsong – the faintest suggestion of a giggle.

  [So much for keeping a low profile,] groaned Fist. [ I’m going to end up comatose in an InSec cell!]

  [ Nobody knows she was looking at us,] Jack reassured him. He pointed up and looked around, pretending to be as thrilled and puzzled as everyone else.

  [ The news channels are just starting to pick it up.]

  [Let’s move. She’s just having fun, it’s what she does. Bring up the search pattern, Fist.]

  Ifor’s search app dropped a single white line over the estate. It coiled around it, mapping out the most efficient exploration path. As they followed it, Fist monitored the news.

  The more celebrity obsessed channels went live to Violin Gardens, talking excitedly with those who’d witnessed East’s wink. People who had no particular relationship with the divinity expressed a guardedly general sense of gratitude. Her more devoted followers gushed about very personal moments of contact. An up-and-coming clothing designer was convinced that East had personally blessed the Chuigushou Mall launch event for her new collection. A middle-aged man described a new relationship. He was now confident that it would endure. A jogger gave thanks for East’s intercession. She was involved with a charity that was having difficulty raising money. Now, she could share its details with a massive media audience.

  Jack felt very happy to have left Pantheon worship far behind. The last seven years had at least gifted him atheism. He thought with embarrassment how excited his younger self would have been by East’s visitation.

  The search pattern led them on. Trees gathered in clumps around sunlit glades, filled with bright flowers and softly glowing patches of sunlight. Ground level apartment doors were represented by wooden arches. Flutes played, backed by pattering hand drums.

  [ How do people live with such crap, Jack?]

  [ It’s a dream they want to share.]

  [ It’s an advert they want to inhabit. Let’s get rid of this bullshit.]

  Glamour vanished. The unwoven apartment doors caught Fist’s eye. [ They’re a bit odd,] he commented. A few were pale bleached wood, matching the soft pastel colour of the block walls. Most were hard unpainted metal. Their uncompromising emphasis on security jarre
d with the soft tastefulness of the rest of Violin Gardens.

  [ What are these people afraid of ?] asked Fist.

  [ I don’t know.]

  [ I could break us in there. Take a look round, see why these idiots are so paranoid.]

  [ We’re keeping our noses clean.]

  [ I’ll give them something to be scared of. Rewrite their homes, they come home, open the door – zombie horde attack!]

  [ No.]

  [ Boring.]

  [Any word from Harry yet?]

  [ That wanker. I don’t know why you haven’t told him to fuck off.]

  [ We need him to scout for us. Now, be serious. Any messages?]

  [ None. Want me to ping him? I can bring your weavespace up, subvert a local weave connection, bounce round a few servers. We’ll be untraceable.] Fist yawned theatrically. [And it’ll pass a couple of nanoseconds. If I’m lucky.]

  It was nighttime in Jack’s weavespace. A wax-pale moon hung over the empty gardens, bringing white stone, green leaves and vivid petals to soft and gentle life, and scattering a shimmer of white across the little pool at their heart. The moon was too bright to allow stars near it, but further away scores dappled the clear night. A gentle breeze rustled through the tree tops. An owl called, its down-soft cry promising life to its young, death to its prey. Andrea’s statue glowed with soft beauty. Ifor’s image stood just by it. Even his nanogel body seemed to have something of the sylvan to it.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ grumbled Fist. ‘Should be afternoon. Timing’s out of whack.’

  ‘Let it be, Fist. I always loved it at night.’

  There was a shadow up at the door of Grey’s temple. It could have just been a ghost that the moonlight made.

  ‘Fancy a chat with his nibs?’

  ‘No, Fist, I do not. Where did you hide the link to Harry?’

  ‘By that tree. As far away from Andrea as I could.’

  Jack walked over to the tree, crossing from paving flags to turf. The ground here was so much softer. Jack left deep, dark footprints in the dewy grass. Fist sat on a stone in the middle of the pond. A fishing rod appeared in his hand, and a little pointy little hat on his head.

  ‘Maybe I should go into the gnome business, Jack?’