“This is getting interesting,” he thought. “He didn’t spend the night at home, and that smell of liquor. Veggies don’t drink. This needs to be figured out. I’ll have to go back to Monaco and have a talk with this Pascal and the administrator, too. And with that liar Isaac, of course. These events could all be connected.”
The commissioner rummaged through the summary police reports for the last few days, and everything seemed normal. A couple of broken windows and a stolen scooter. He checked UNICOMA’s records just in case. All quiet there, too. There’d been a minor computer glitch at the Paris storage server, probably an electrical surge, nothing of interest.
***
The leather couch which Pascal was sitting on all alone seemed to sway from side to side. He poured himself another whisky. The upholstery stuck annoyingly to his arms, legs and back. His entire body, outside and inside, was turning flabby and unresponsive, but not his brain that carried on erupting, neuron by neuron. Alcohol is a conductive medium and its thoughts are the electric current. Even if you get as drunk as a skunk, it can’t be helped, as your brain still keeps working.
Pascal felt as if he had offended Eva so he gave in and called her. He was not able to control his contempt and fury and tried not to give himself away, but he slipped into barbed, acrid sarcasm and tossed from one extreme to another. In the end they quarreled. He could tell Eva was relieved to end the conversation. They agreed to keep in touch. Eva said they’d better not see each other just yet, Pascal’s absurd grievances were too fresh and there were too many emotions. She did not feel guilty at all and was not prepared to listen to any reproaches, which she did not think she deserved. At the end of the conversation Pascal had almost said what his aggrieved ego wanted, that he was not a Veggie any longer but he had checked himself with a struggle and limited himself to simply saying: “OK, see you, talk to you soon!” Eva had wished him all the best and hung up.
The phone fell out of his hands, clattering loudly on the tiled floor.
“Hey you, lush, who did you just call?” Pascal heard Bikie’s menacing voice ask.
“No one.”
Bikie picked up the dropped phone and looked up the last number dialed.
“Fu-uck it, are you totally mad? You idiot! We’re risking everything here for your sake! Want to go back to being a Veggie?”
“You risked my life, too,” Pascal protested weakly, already quite tipsy.
“We have to keep an eye on this jerk! Isaac!” Bikie was in a violent fury.
He dashed to fetch Isaac, who was tidying up his room in preparation for his sister’s imminent arrival. Isaac rushed back with his infuriated friend, tried to calm him down, said he would sort everything out and sat down beside Pascal.
“Old buddy, hold out for just a little while. Soon you’ll be able to drink as much as you want whenever you want. You’ll get to see Eva whenever you want…but not right now. We’ve got a lot to do, and you can help. I’ll make a quick trip to the hospital to see Vicky, have a word with the doctor, then come back and I promise you we’ll booze. Today. Just the two of us, like in the old times.”
Having promised this, Isaac sighed and dialed Michelle’s number. He had to put their meeting off again. This made her terribly offended and she told Isaac what she thought of him. She reminded him there were four people at their first date that Isaac was always disappearing, did not answer her calls and generally did not make much of an effort to see her. Isaac tried to make excuses, citing urgent and important business, but he could not explain what it was. In the end, Michelle snapped: “Forget about me!” and hung up.
Isaac tried to call her back several times, showered her with texts, apologized and implored forgiveness, but all in vain. Michelle did not reply to a single text and did not return his calls.
Isaac was quite sure that this time he had ruined everything completely. This put him in a stinking bad mood. Even the fact that he had finally paid for Vicky’s surgery couldn’t make him feel any better.
In the end, he and Pascal started getting drunk together at lunch by the pool. Just the two of them, drinking sincerely, going the whole hog. And both out of love. Even Bikie stopped being angry, seeing how pitiful they both were.
“The thing is, Pascal, all this whisky, vodka and rum doesn’t help. On the contrary. At first, you drink and you feel better, but then the heartache only gets worse, so deep that you think all the problems you had before were bullshit. Nothing runs as deep as heartache. Feelings are infinite and nothing compares with heartache except more heartache. You think you still have everything ahead of you and life goes on. Your reason suggests all sorts of solutions but everything collapses again. Heartache is a mudslide that smothers your heart and your soul.
“This mudslide sweeps away the flowers of love. But they grow back again, even on rocks, even in the desert, even in a nuclear dump! The flowers of love are the most resilient ones in the world. They grow out of your heart, out of nowhere, they build beautiful castles in the air, and your reason immediately moves in there. You live within an illusion and hope moves in there, too.”
“Right, hope never dies. It’s immortal!”
“So right! Faith and love can die, but not hope. It survives again and again and resurrects love.”
“I don’t have hope any more. Only despair. I lost everything. I lost Eva. I did it myself!”
“But you can get her back. Or, at least, try.”
“I don’t want to. It’s disgusting. She betrayed me in any case. And she’s a bitch.”
“No she didn’t. It wasn’t her who forced you to download, was it? You went on your own. What do you blame her for? You’ve seen the video of yourself. Can anyone live with that?”
“Looking for support from you is like treating a wound with brine. It only gets worse. Her hope died kind of quickly. She abandoned me.”
“You’re just selfish. A great, narcissistic egotist, who won’t admit his own mistakes.”
“Ah, to hell with her! And you can fuck off, too!”
“Pascal, it is quite possible that she still loves you. Why else would she talk to you on the phone for so long when you’re drunk? I’d be only too happy to get Michelle back, only I don’t believe it would work. I’ve screwed things up so hopelessly. And she’s so… totally unbelievable! I just got lucky, didn’t I? Like, once in a blue moon. But I blew it all.”
“I’m sorry, that was because of me. I blew everything too. But I’m not going to admit it!”
They clinked glasses again and drank. A pause ensued, then Bikie arrived with beer.
“I wonder, does it even matter to them that we are suffering like this, Bikie? Or don’t they give a shit?”
“No clue. What I’m sure about is that chicks don’t like crybabies. Watching the way you two have been whining is disgusting.”
“Michelle told me to go to hell. She hung up and she isn’t answering. No calls, no texts. She said, ‘Forget about me.’”
“Don’t fret, Isaac, it’ll be fine. Only don’t pester her right now. She is angry with you today, for sure. She clearly likes you, that’s obvious.”
“Oh, well done, you’ve set everything out neatly on the shelves. Like in a supermarket.”
“Have you told her even once that you love her?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re a fool. Though it seems to me she took a liking to you precisely because you are such a fool, an unusual cretin. Spaced out.”
Bikie was strumming the strings of his guitar, Pascal was falling asleep, and Isaac tried to write something in his phone.
“Michelle, I miss you so badly, forgive me for being such a fool. You are the happiest time of my life. I’m terribly afraid that I have lost you, that I’ll never be able to hug and cuddle you. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are a miracle that happened in my life. I will always love you. I want to take care of you, my hopes and thoughts of you are my life. Let’s see each other again, darling, please give me a chance. I need you ver
y, very much.”
Isaac read the message through obtusely several times, and then deleted it without sending.
***
“Morning. I’m desperate for water. Lousy sunlight blinding my eyes. Why aren’t the damn curtains closed? The phone is ringing, but it is easier to put up with it than get up. It is calling again! What do they want so early the morning? I don’t want to get up at all. I have to try to get some more sleep.” Isaac turned his face to the wall and fell asleep again.
At the other end of the line was displeased Pellegrini. He decided to summon Isaac for another interview, so he wanted to make sure that he was not going for another journey to his pseudo-Spain. “Never mind, I’ll call later,” the commissioner thought as he got ready to leave for the airport. He planned a three-day trip; besides Isaac, he had to talk to Pascal, Pascal’s administrator and the staff at the hospital. He knew that the operation for Isaac’s sister had been paid for out of Pascal’s account. Formally, there was nothing wrong with it, but too many strange coincidences came together around this Leroy-guy.
Formally still a Happy, Pascal was a very rich young man. His brains had come back and the money was still there. The disappearance of his orange energy must have gone unnoticed. Even though the amount retrieved was substantial, dozens of other people downloaded their OE on the same day, so the overall level of energy in the server shouldn’t have fallen. It would take them a week to figure out the exact details of creativity transactions on a given day.
People love statistics, and the data on the aggregated intellect of the planet was reported every Monday in the weekly magazine “Science and the People.” No one on the team really knew how the system of statistics worked but it was clear that even if someone noticed a deviation, they would not immediately realize where the leakage had taken place or whose brains the energy was from or – most importantly – how it happened.
In any case, the law had no provisions for the theft of OE, and it was not possible to compel Pascal to download his creativity again. At least, it was impossible to do it quickly. The legislation included quite a lot of ideas from downloaders, and among them presumption of innocence prevailed.
Even if the police or UNICOMA officials came after him, Pascal could play the fool pretty adequately – Bikie had him watch dozens of videos of Happies and socialize with his neighbors at the settlement. He learned their habits pretty well so it would not seem too difficult to imitate them. But Pascal’s imagination worked excellently by now, and he thought out dozens of ways how he could be outed by a serious investigator.
Or what if they made him check his OE level again…
He had both his brains back and the money although now it was no longer his money, but an operating fund, the team’s fund, which was just sitting in his account. He had offered that himself. But it was not so easy to spend it: if a Happy came in to buy a transistor and not a teapot, the salesman’s jaw would drop…
The Professor has firmly concluded that he did not have amnesia, but the absence of memory, resulting from the downloading of OE. They all agreed to get together that evening and decide what to do next.
The next day the preparations for Vicky’s surgery began. Isaac arrived at the hospital, accompanied by Pascal and Bikie. The girl at the reception smiled at them, asked the names of the patient, the relative and the other guests and entered them all in the visitor’s book. She was clearly nervous, but Isaac took no notice. His mind was focused on other things.
He was delighted that at last his sister had a chance to get well. And not just a chance but a very high probability of returning to a normal life. Of course, he was nervous and agitated, as anyone would be in his place. Besides, he still felt embarrassed that while she was in a coma and that he had almost fallen in love with her. He still wanted to say the same words to her as he did then: that he loved her very much.
They went towards the lift and did not see the receptionist dial the commissioner’s number.
Vicky’s ward was on the third floor. The blinds were up, and through the windows one could see a magnificent view of the sea and the city. It was probably the only hospital in the world with such an insanely beautiful view.
Vicky was lying under a sheet, with various tubes and drips attached to her body. Her chest moved calmly and evenly as she breathed, and the sheet rose only a tiny little bit. Even with those closed eyes and pale skin she looked tremendously attractive. Someone in the future would be very lucky to meet her.
His thoughts were interrupted by the doctor who came to explain the plan of the operation and Vicky’s recovery.
There were still several days before the operation. A brain surgeon would specifically come from America. Right now they were introducing markers through the IV, to color the tumor so that it could be better seen on the monitors. The actual surgery would take no more than three or four hours, then the patient would gradually be brought out of her comatose state followed by another week of rehabilitation. The muscles had atrophied so massage, physiotherapy and injection of stimulants would be needed to restore body tonus. The recovery process used to take at least a month, but now it was quicker, thanks to UNICOMA. Then they would allow him to collect Vicky and continue with the physical therapy at home.
“And when will I be able to talk to her?”
“In about ten days. Might be a bit sooner or a bit later. We should not hurry with bringing her out of the coma, but don’t worry, you will have plenty of time to talk,” the doctor reassured Isaac.
After lunch the group split up and Pascal went back to his villa. He needed to review the significant events of the past two days, get a clear idea of what was kept where in his home check the state of his finances and practice Veggie behavior just in case. His body, accustomed to daily workouts, was literally itching to get on an exercise machine.
Bikie went back to join Link at the villa and Isaac bought a bouquet of flowers and tried to find Michelle.
***
Pellegrini sat at the table and looked through his notes, Pascal Dean goes along with the others to visit Isaac’s sister in the hospital. That was not typical for a Veggie. Well, theoretically possible, just a bit weird. The money Isaac suddenly got to pay for his sister’s medical expenses was Pascal’s money. That was even stranger. Then the administrator had reported an alcoholic episode. Again, more than unusual for a Veggie. Looks like they got him drunk to get the money.
Theft from Veggies was a new crime for the new age and strangely, in seven years there were no cases of this sort. Perhaps there have been, but they have not been recorded or solved.
Pellegrini felt prickles of excitement inside, like in the old times. He was looking forward to cracking Isaac and creating a precedent of catching someone who dared to take advantage of a trusting soul, to take candy from a baby, so to say. He must look into everything to see if there had been any similar cases before.
It took Pellegrini twenty-four hours to comb through the archives in search of reports that somewhere, at some time, a Veggie had voluntarily transferred money to a third party, but did not find any. Veggies had always faithfully kept their money in the bank, hardly spending any of it. Pascal appeared to be the only exception. So much the worse for you, Isaac.
When the commissioner checked the whereabouts of Isaac’s mobile phone on the night when Pascal went on a bender, he did not find anything. The phone was switched off. But Pascal’s mobile showed up nine times in the region of Lyon. In Lyon? What was he doing there and how did he get there? It was time to clarify all this. Everything suggested that they had got Pascal drunk and forced him to pay for the operation of Isaac’s sister.
Chapter five
Isaac did not find Michelle, and she still was not answering his calls. He left the flowers with the concierge and asked him to pass on a little note:
“How can one speak of love in words both clear and simple?
Must ample words be borrowed from above?
In the surrounding world, I’m seeking a
n example,
To tell you all. But how, I do not know, my love.
Much easier by far than framing your description
Is finding words to tell about the skies and sea,
So I will take your hand and share my silent vision
I will be numb and let my kisses speak for me.
Please forgive me.”
After a futile attempt to get the concierge talking about mademoiselle Blanche, Isaac went back to the villa. As always, Bikie was growling over a computer. Pascal couldn’t stay at his home, so he had arrived too. All they had to do was to call the Professor.
“What are you looking for?” Isaac enquired listlessly.
“Nothing much, various garbage. Reading about a new motorbike that just came out. Real high-class. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing much. It’s because of Michelle. Right, let’s talk about something else. Where’s Link?”
“Hey, professor! The pea-brain is here, and Isaac is back! We are waiting for you!” Bikie shouted loudly.
“I was looking into how one can plug into the Collective Mind computers. There’s good news – two pieces – and bad news,” Link said pensively. “We need to discuss.”
“What’s the puzzle?” Bikie barked cheerfully.
“The good news is that Collective Mind has four servers, containing identical copies. The first is located in New York, the second in Moscow, the third in Hong Kong and the last one, the European server, is where we were, near Paris. I myself once sent Blake my ideas on the location of the servers when I handed over the technology. Where precisely the central computer and the equipment room are located in the buildings, you and I don’t know. But never mind, we’ll figure that out. The best news is that I have studied the amplifier that Pascal created. It is small but very powerful! In theory, it is suitable for my hacking-in device. Pascal and I can dig a bit deeper, adapt it a bit and combine the devices together to get a really powerful hacker and transmitter. If everything goes well, all the Happies within several kilometers will get their energy back.”
Collective Mind Page 26