“Yes,” Helen admitted.
“I could take your virtual body and mold it into something wonderful. Anyone could. Nothing in this world is immutable. Do you want to hear the big secret? The one she doesn’t want you to know?”
They both looked to Judy, gripped in golden hands.
“There is no reason why the atomic world should not be just as mutable as Penumbra. If the EA wanted to, it could arrange it. Harness the VNMs, set them free to convert all matter in the universe to nanotechs. Wipe out the gross form of the human body and let personality constructs roam free in the foam of a nanotech sea. Just like this.”
The buildings surrounding the courtyard melted away, leaving nothing but golden hands.
“This is the future, Helen,” Zinman said, and now he vanished. The thorn cage that encased Helen’s body became warm; it began to move, to enfold her completely. A voice spoke in her ear. “Imagine that, Helen. Your body there for anyone in this world to use?”
“You’re not paying attention to her, Zinman. That’s not Helen’s fantasy.”
The sound of Judy’s voice broke Helen’s trance. She looked around and saw the dark shape of her friend almost submerged by gripping hands.
“Judy?” Helen said. “I feel…”
Zinman was angry. “What do you know, Judy? What does a virgin know of the pleasure of sharing their body with another? You have divided the universe into yourself and everything else. Even your PC is inviolate.”
Helen frowned. That last sentence was meant for her to hear. Zinman had glanced across at her as he said it.
“Your PC is inviolate? What does that mean, Judy?”
“It means it can’t be copied again, Helen,” snorted Zinman. “Didn’t she tell you? There can only ever be twelve digital Judys? It’s hard-coded into her personality construct.”
“Is that true?”
“Of course,” Judy said calmly. “It is standard practice for all SC operatives in my position. Security.”
Helen felt as if she had been terribly betrayed.
“All that understanding, all those lectures about not hating Peter Onethirteen for what he did to me! I almost believed it. Easy for you to say it when it can’t happen to you, when no one is going to make a copy of you and drop you in a private processing space.”
Zinman had a hand on her shoulder now. “But that’s right. You must have realized, Helen. All Judy ever does is watch.”
“Yes!” Helen shouted. “He’s right, isn’t he, Judy? You never did tell me-why are you a virgin?”
“Pure arrogance,” Zinman scoffed. “To put yourself above everyone else. That’s what Social Care do, isn’t it, Helen? They think they know best.”
The thorns were tighter. They caught Helen’s breasts in an exquisite cage of pinpoints.
Zinman was almost pleading with Helen to understand him. “Hah! How can they say what is best for us? They’re simply doing the will of the Watcher, shaping human minds to its own ends. Making us believe in this heaven; this ideal path to the future that it is laying down, but the Watcher’s heaven is a sterile, soulless thing. What is reality for humans, Helen? Is it following the wishes of machines, or doing what we think is best?”
Helen looked from Zinman to Judy. “Doing what we think is best,” she said.
Zinman smiled widely. “I knew you’d understand. You lived your life pre-Transition. Your thought patterns haven’t been set out for you. You know, Helen, you don’t have to go back with Judy. You could stay here. Would you like to do that?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said, glancing at Ruby. There was nothing now but chocolate smeared across the golden palms.
“It’s okay,” Ella said. “She can come back anytime she likes. Look.”
And now a body reformed amongst the hands: midnight black and beautiful. A young woman smiled up from the golden grasp.
“Hello, Helen,” she said.
“Is there anything else to this world apart from sex?”
It took them a moment to realize that Judy had spoken, her voice was so muffled by the golden hands.
Zinman laughed. “Oh, yes! It’s just that sex is all you see when you are a virgin. Helen, do you want to see something more? Do you like music?”
“Not really…”
The world swirled.
“Distance is such an outdated concept,” said Zinman.
The world reformed as a golden tapestry of color. Golden cloth surrounded them, clothing them in brocade and tapestries in jeweled patterns of yellow and black and red.
“Klimt,” Ruby said, thrusting her head back and closing her eyes as she knelt down. Zinman placed a hand on her cheek, the other in her hair, and made as if to kiss her.
“Ah! The Kiss,” said Ella.
“Mahler,” Zinman said as music surrounded them. “Veni creator spiritus.” He gave a smile. “That’s me. Though I prefer the second movement.”
“Veni creator spiritus. What does that mean?” asked Helen.
“Any fool could ask their console for a translation. Better that your feelings give meaning to the words. Can you feel it, Helen?”
“I feel something.” Helen smiled.
The music changed. A chorus of voices sang out all around. Zinman joined in.
Alles Vergängliche
Ist nur ein Gleichnis;
Das Unzulängliche,
Hier wird’s Ereignis;
Das Unbeschreibliche,
Hier ist’s getan
“That’s beautiful,” Helen said.
“It is our creed,” Zinman explained, then he turned to Judy, still being held in the grip of golden hands. He gave a nod and they released her. The black-and-white woman stood up calmly, hands sliding into the sleeves of her kimono.
“Good-bye, Judy. You can go now. Helen will be staying here, I think.”
Judy made a show of regaining her customary stillness in the middle of the ever-changing scene. Once she was sure she had made her point, she spoke in her calmest voice: “Very well, Zinman. I’ve just got one question, though, before I leave.”
“Go on then, Judy. Whatever you want.”
Judy stood very straight, her face at its most impassive.
“Actually, it’s more a question for Ella and Ruby. I just wondered, how often does Zinman go underneath?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Ella said dismissively.
“I’m sorry, I never really understood this sex talk. What I mean is: I’ve seen that Zinman has turned you to chocolate, that he conducts an invisible choir, and that he controls the golden hands. What I wanted to know was, how often does he take his turn in the submissive role?”
“He doesn’t,” Ruby said.
“See,” Zinman said to Helen. “She really doesn’t understand what’s going on here, does she?”
Helen gave a little moan of pleasure.
“I don’t think I do,” Judy said. “I thought that in this world all PCs have a handle on each other. No one of them is more privileged than another. You’ve argued quite eloquently that this is how things should be. I’m trying to square that with the same Zinman who used to rape women in the Private Network.”
Helen blinked once…twice. She seemed to be trying to remember something. Judy remained perfectly still.
“You raped several of Helen’s PCs, for example. You’re a persuasive man. I notice you’re already imposing your will on her, and Helen is a strong personality. I’m impressed.”
Helen shook her head. “Are you doing something to my mind, Zinman?” she murmured, but Judy just continued speaking, softly, remorselessly.
“You see, Zinman, I don’t think you’re strong enough to handle a relationship of equals. You couldn’t hack it in the regular worlds, so you retreated here where you could live out your power games.”
Zinman laughed, but it had a brittle sound this time. “Just because I choose to live my life my own way, and you can’t understand it…”
“Oh, I can understand it, Z
inman. I just don’t think very much of it.”
“He raped me, didn’t he?” said Helen. “Or one of me. He’s one of those bastards who-”
Judy ignored her. “So you come to this place and link up with the likes of Ella, who still hasn’t learned any self-worth despite my best efforts, and with Ruby, who-”
Helen didn’t waste time with words; she simply flung herself at Zinman. He vanished.
“Where did he go?” Helen shouted angrily, looking around.
“Right out of Penumbra,” Judy said. “He can’t sustain the fantasy here anymore.”
For the first time since she had come to Penumbra, Judy showed some expression as her face split in a harsh grin. “Das Ewig-Weibliche ziecht uns hinan.”
“What does that mean?” Helen asked.
“Look it up,” Judy said.
Out of Penumbra, back in one of the EA’s regular processing spaces, Zinman was running towards the entrance of a Lite station, hoping to lose himself in the crowds. A simple rectangular door opened in the air just in front of him and Helen tumbled out, naked and bleeding from where she had torn the thorns from her body. She caught Zinman around the waist and dragged him to the ground.
“Leave him, Helen,” Judy commanded, stepping easily through the doorway behind her. It was a relief to be back in a digital France, under the plain dull sky, to smell the salt air of the sea.
Helen released Zinman and gave him a nasty smile. “Okay, give him the pill, Judy. I’ll take one as well. I want to feel this, too.”
Zinman gave a whimper. Out here, away from the illusions of Penumbra, he was just a thin old man-sunken grey cheeks with three-day stubble, pale green eyes like a fish’s that bulged from hollow sockets. He licked his dry lips with a dry tongue.
“I don’t think so, Helen,” Judy said. “I’m going to hand the correction of this one across to one of my sisters. We haven’t got time to do it ourselves. We came to Zinman because we wanted to find Kevin, remember?”
Helen spat at him, and Zinman flinched. “I want the bastard to suffer,” she growled.
Judy stared at Helen, concentrating.
Helen gave a shout of disbelief as she realized what was happening.
“What? You’re actually trying to correct my behavior?”
“I correct everyone’s behavior,” Judy said. “Zinman, talk to me about Kevin.”
Zinman wiped a white trail of spit from his cheek. “What about him?” he moaned. “It’s years since I met him. He never went into Penumbra. He couldn’t stand the true reality.” He looked thoughtful. “In some ways he’s even more conservative than you, Judy.”
“I’m the most liberal person you will ever meet, Zinman. I’m holding Helen back, aren’t I?”
Zinman gaped at Helen and shivered.
Judy leaned closer to him. “You’re frightened of the wrong person, Zinman,” she whispered. “Tell me. Did Kevin get you into one of his processing spaces?”
Zinman looked down. “He came to me in the atomic world. Back then, he was only an image in a viewing field. I was just the one person then, the atomic Zinman.”
“Why did he come to you?”
“He said he’d read my profile. He claimed to know what it was that I really wanted.”
“And what was that?”
“You know.” Zinman dropped his gaze. “What you said in there.”
“Dominance? Is that what he offered?” Judy tilted her head questioningly.
“Not as such…” Zinman said. “But pleasure, hedonism. The chance to live my dreams.”
The salt wind blew from the sea. Helen hardly noticed that she was shivering; she was too absorbed by the grey wreck of a man kneeling before her.
“ ‘The chance to live my dreams’? Tell me the truth, Zinman.”
“That is the truth!”
“So what were your dreams? Say the words.”
“Dominance,” Zinman said in a small voice. “Rape.”
Judy shot Helen a warning glare, but Helen just stood gazing, her arms firmly wrapped around her breasts, more for warmth than modesty.
“Kevin just seemed to know what I wanted, Judy. No offense, but he left Social Care standing. I didn’t know I had those wishes myself until he reached inside me and drew them out.”
“Zinman…” Judy warned.
“Okay, they were my wishes. I suspected they were there, but it was Kevin who gave me the chance to live them. He kindled the fire. There’s something about Kevin. You wouldn’t know unless you’d met him. He’s not like most people. He’s old-fashioned. Out of time, like he’s not really a man at all. More of a…” He looked at Helen and something awoke in his eyes. “Oh…” he began.
“Is he the one who persuaded you to make a personality construct of yourself?” Judy said quickly.
“Yes, I suppose he was,” Zinman said in some surprise. “I never thought about that before. I used to interface with his processing spaces from the atomic world, but Kevin persuaded me that it would be more satisfying if I was in there with the…clients.”
“Victims, Zinman. Say the word.”
“Victims.” A thought occurred to him, a difficult one. “He had me in his power as soon as I did that, didn’t he?”
“That will be something for you to think about later. Have you met Kevin since you had this PC made?”
“Oh, yes, many times. He used to come to my processing space all the time. Always with his servant in tow.”
“What did he come there for? Recreation?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think he got his kicks on a more mental plane than I did. He liked controlling people without having to touch them. Now there’s power.” He blinked, looking into Judy’s black eyes. “You’ve done something to me, haven’t you? It’s like I’m seeing things clearly for the first time.”
“I’m good at my job,” Judy said.
“You are. But you’re like Kevin, aren’t you? You’re doing to me what he does. You both manipulate people: get them to do what you want. Did the Watcher teach you that?”
“I’ve never met the Watcher.”
“No, but you follow its wishes.” Zinman shook his head. “That’s what I mean, Judy: we have no free will out here. We only do what we are told, whether we are aware of it or not.”
“I asked about Kevin,” Judy said. “If you wanted to, could you summon him?”
“Penumbra is the only place to live.” Zinman’s voice sounded slurred. He looked back and forth, trying to concentrate on something. “Kevin lives in the Shawl. He is made in the factory, over and over again. In the factory. Over and over again. Oh. I think I…Over and over…”
His voice faded away, leaving him staring into space.
“What have you done to him?” Helen asked.
“Nothing.” Judy frowned. “I think that something has been done to-Hold on.” She reached out and took hold of her console. “I’m calling up his VRep.”
She studied the shape that formed in the air before her: a loop of tape clunking round and round between two hemispheres. “But that’s impossible!” she murmured in disbelief. “I thought we cured that years ago.”
“Cured what?” Helen asked nervously.
“Recursion. The White Death. I guess Kevin didn’t want him telling us any more about how to find him. He got a recursive meme into Zinman’s head.” She bit her lip. “We’d better get back up to the Shawl. We’ll take the direct route. I want to talk this over with my sisters. There’s something strange going on here. I’m beginning to wonder about Kevin. I think there is more to this than just the Private Network.”
She stood up and made to go, but was halted by the expression on Helen’s face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Is he dead?” Helen stared at Zinman.
“Not exactly, but his mind is in a loop. I doubt if we can get it out of that.”
“Good,” said Helen. “He deserved it.”
“It’s not for us to say who deserves
what,” Judy replied.
“Really. Except you, maybe?”
“No, not even me.”
Helen stared at Judy. “He was playing with my mind, wasn’t he? Literally shaping my thought patterns!”
“Not literally, Helen, but even as a PC your mind is dependent on your virtual body. People like Zinman are experts at warping your hormones and glands and sending your mind curving off down other paths.”
“And you let him do it!” Helen’s voice cracked.
“No, you let him do it. Helen, the next time you go to Penumbra, you won’t have me to look after you. You have to learn to handle these things on your own.”
Helen gazed deeply into Judy’s calm eyes. There was a tiny flicker there, just enough to convince Helen that her suspicions were correct.
“But that’s not all there was to it, is it, Judy? You liked what happened to me in there. You enjoyed watching them take me apart. You knew that you could stop them at any moment, so essentially I was safe, but even so, you let them do it.”
“I took no enjoyment in watching, Helen.”
“Hah! I don’t believe you. Watching is what you do, Judy. Like Zinman said, it’s how all the people in Social Care get their yayas.”
“We always accuse others of what we wish to do ourselves, Helen.”
“But that’s the point, Judy. I’ve done it all. You’re the one who hasn’t. You’re the virgin. You’re the one who gets her kicks by listening in to the illicit memories of others.”
She tore a last piece of rose thorn from her hair and flung it to the ground.
“I’m beginning to understand what Zinman was talking about. The Transition is a huge confidence trick. The Watcher has laid down the path that it wants us all to follow, and you willingly steer us along it saying it is for our own good. Hypocrites! You’re all hypocrites!”
The Atomic Judy 3: 2240
Ten years ago, when she was nineteen, Judy had known everything. She wore her chastity like a shield between her black kimono and her lithe body, and she walked with a calm self-assurance that allowed the former to spice the latter. Her black hair was pulled up to reveal her long white neck sliding smoothly down to the promise of her naked body beneath her clothes.
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