Ivan moved his lips, tasting the idea. “I suppose so,” he said.
Eva was staring at the Narkomfin, at its grey walls made colorful by the laundry looping from the windows to dry in the late-afternoon sunshine. She saw the ruined silver bones of the defeated venumb that had once tried to claim the building. She gazed at the distant mountains, purple and blue, and so rough and wild and unlike the rest of the world, covered as that was by the creeping sanitized surveillance of the Watcher.
“It makes me wonder,” said Eva. “Could we stand back and look at the commercial company that operated those barges and think that that particular macro structure was as much a part of the universe as a white dwarf.”
“What has that got to do with the flower?” asked Ivan. “What has that got to do with Katya and you and me?”
“It means that your leaving me is inevitable, Ivan. Do not blame yourself.”
…and you looked for life on the ship, Judy, and you found something, something located at the very core of its being. In its bones, you might say.
The FE software. Do you remember? It feels alive, but it’s not living; and you wanted to know what it was. It is here on the ship; you can feel its actual presence. Lying on your bed, you sent your thoughts off through the ship, but you lost it at that strange knot of converging corridors. It is something that your mind cannot touch. The FE software is like life without motion—the essence of life, but unchanging, a cloud of ink moulded in a Perspex block.
It doesn’t move, it doesn’t defend itself, and yet your thoughts drifted off, drifted off into this dream. You’ve dreamt of Eva before, Judy—why is that? And now you must wake up…
Judy opened her eyes to see the stars rising higher and higher into the night sky, like stacks of silver pennies thrown into the air. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw it was just the black lacquer of her ceiling reflecting the myriad yellow flames of the little candles burning around her bed. The FE software? It wasn’t life—but, then again, life took on so many forms. Life took on so many forms.
And what was life, anyway?
maurice 2: 2252
Maurice played his clarinetwith his eyes half fixed on the screen of his console. It was unusual to have three FE ships within range of them at once, and the thought that maybe he should wake Saskia and tell her wove in and out of his thoughts in time to the music.
The silver plastic felt warm and alive under his fingers; he could feel the patterns of resonance change in the space around him as he played. The air of the little hold seemed to be dancing, ripe with melody. For the moment, Maurice felt at peace in the funny little space where gravity had been set to make maximum use of the available surfaces. Black-and-white rubber tiles lined the floor, the four walls and the ceiling. He didn’t hear Judy coming up behind him. “That sounds nice,” she said. The music died, and the hold reverted to an empty space scattered with the thin cargo the crew of the Eva Rye had managed to acquire. The life seemed to pass instantly from the goods ranged in the crates that were stacked on the floor, the ceiling, and the walls, all held in place by the six-directional gravity. In the ensuing silence, the crystal glasses packed in foam pellets no longer sang, the green apples that lay in neat nests of paper lost their bloom. Only the piles of colored pebbles remained happy, glinting in the light.
“No, don’t stop. Go on,” Judy urged, sitting down heavily on the crate next to Maurice. Her voice sounded whispery and thin.
“Are you okay?” Maurice turned to peer at her pale face. Even through her white makeup he could see how drawn and uneasy she looked.
“I’ll be fine,” Judy said, sitting up straighter.
“You’re not fine now, though,” Maurice replied. “Come on, let’s go to the living area and get you something to drink.”
“I just need to sit here for a while,” said Judy. “I didn’t sleep too well. I heard the music. Why don’t you let me listen to you play?”
Maurice was already opening his instrument case and slotting the clarinet into its nest in the green baize inside.
“I’ve finished,” he said, making to close the case. Judy placed a hand on his elbow to stop him.
“What are they ?” she asked, pointing to the pieces of black pipe that also nestled in the baize. She ran a finger along the silver metal that formed loops over the surface of one of them. Maurice sounded almost embarrassed.
“Those?” he said. “They’re sections of another clarinet, an old one. They used to be carved from wood, not grown from plastic.” He touched the shiny black wood of one of the pieces. “The shape of them was not as efficient as the fractal forms they use nowadays. The fingering was different as well, not terribly logical.”
“Can you play it?”
“Oh, yes,” said Maurice, and he snapped the case shut with a click, firmly ending that line of conversation.
The three ships registered on the console were moving closer. Judy’s eyes looked yellow and dull; her black passive suit seemed shabby and frumpy. She gave a yawn and rubbed her hands through her hair, trying to wake herself up.
“It smells nice in here,” she said.
“It’s the apples,” said Maurice. “Judy, what is the matter? You look ill.”
Judy was drooping again. She sat up straighter.
“It’s this thing here,” she said, lethargically pointing to the back of her neck. “It’s making me feel things that aren’t real. Maurice, what do you know about the FE software?”
“Not much more than I’ve told you. Why?”
“It doesn’t feel right.” She rubbed her hands through her hair again, as if she had a headache. “What about Miss Rose? What’s she doing on this ship anyway?”
Maurice smiled. “Stealing things. Oh, and being rude to people.”
He looked back at his console. “You know, Judy, there are three FE-equipped ships within range of us at the moment, all transmitting protocols indicating they wish to trade. That’s unusual: up until now we’ve only encountered one such ship every few days or so.”
“It’ll be me,” said Judy. “I told you. Someone is arranging things so as to get me to Earth.”
“Chris?” said Maurice. “This oh-so-powerful AI that you mentioned?”
“He’s part of it,” said Judy. “But I think it runs much deeper than that.”
She shuddered and folded her hands in her lap. She looked over towards the apples, green and jolly in their crates. Maurice wondered if he should offer to fetch her one.
“Shall I…?” he began.
“Tell me about Miss Rose,” said Judy. “She wasn’t on Breizh, was she? How did she come to join you?”
Maurice was still fiddling with his console, peering intently at one of the ships indicated on the display.
“That ship there,” he said, pointing to an amber arrow, “the A Capella —I bet you it makes contact with us in the next few minutes.” He looked at Judy thoughtfully. “Miss Rose? She was on the, oh, I can’t remember its name, the Yellow River or something. They had too many passengers on board; too many minds. They were having problems with Dark Seeds. A Dark Plant had taken root somewhere in the ship, but they couldn’t find it.”
Judy shivered.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, go on.”
“Most of an FE ship is off-limits to humans—did you know that? Passengers were going to sleep on that ship not knowing what they would wake up to. I saw one of them wrapped up in a cocoon of BVBs, like a mummy. You can’t cut BVBs. Nothing can. The man inside them was dying a slow death.”
Now it was Maurice’s turn to shiver. “They wanted to reduce the number of people on board. Fewer minds means fewer people to pick up on the flux. They did a Fair Exchange. We got Miss Rose.”
He paused significantly, inviting the question that Judy now supplied.
“And what did you get in return?”
“Nothing, of course,” said Maurice with satisfaction. “The FE software deemed that her presence on board the ship was payment en
ough.”
“That fact doesn’t upset you as much as it does Saskia, does it?” Judy observed. Maurice was peering thoughtfully at his console again.
“It doesn’t annoy me. If anything it makes me feel nervous,” he said. “I’m beginning to think there’s more to the FE software than we have been told. A lot more.”
“So am I,” said Judy softly.
“And it makes me worried,” said Maurice. “Miss Rose is over eighty years old, senile, and a kleptomaniac. What is she going to do for us to earn her passage?”
They gazed at each other. Judy was about to say something significant, something about FE—Maurice just knew it—but at that moment the A Capella made contact.
“Hello, Eva Rye. We hear you are going to Earth. Do you wish to trade?”
Saskia usually took a good half an hour to wake up properly. Sitting up in bed, with red lines from the pillow creases on her cheek, she was not at her best.
“They want us to take what to Earth?” she said blearily, looking at the glass of water she was holding in her hand. “Hold on, I’ll come down there right away.”
“Saskia, what’s the point?” said Maurice patiently. “Does it make any difference if you watch a viewing field here with us in the hold, or you watch one alone in your cabin?”
Saskia put down the glass without taking a sip. She looked so soft and childlike while half asleep. Maurice imagined she would smell of toothpaste and warm bedclothes.
“Okay,” she said, stifling a yawn, “put them through. I’ll speak to them here, then.”
“I should warn you…” began Maurice.
“Just put them through.”
Maurice shrugged. He took a certain pleasure in seeing Saskia’s surprise as the captain of the A Capella appeared before her.
“How old are you?” she asked, sounding insulted.
“Eleven,” said the boy in the viewing field. He was a good-looking lad, thought Maurice, with a nice smile, big brown eyes, and olive skin. “Are you Saskia?”
“I am. Do your parents know what you are doing right now?”
“They do,” said the boy. “My name is Ben. A systems-repair unit recommended that I take command of the ship during a Fair Exchange we made a few months ago.”
Saskia frowned. Maurice knew what she was thinking. The Stranger had recommended that Edward should command the Eva Rye, and they had ignored its suggestion.
“Ben,” called Maurice, “how do you know we are going to Earth?”
“Our FE software told us,” the boy replied smugly. “ Eva Rye, heading to Earth, ETA five days from now. Can’t your FE do that yet?”
Saskia sat up straighter on her bed. She was wearing blue-checked pajamas that fastened up to her neck. They made her look even more like a little girl. She gave a dismissive gesture.
“Of course it can,” she lied. “Tell me, what is it you want taken to Earth?”
“Some crates,” said Ben.
“What’s in them?”
“Active suits.”
“Active suits? Aren’t they dangerous?”
“These ones are perfectly safe,” said Ben.
“So you say. I hear they walk around on their own, looking for trouble.”
“Only if they’re activated. These ones are currently set to dormant.”
“But isn’t it true that they can rouse themselves in times of danger?”
Ben waved dismissively. “I told you, they’re perfectly safe. The FE software issued a digital certificate confirming this.”
“Okay.” But Saskia didn’t look as if it was okay. “Well, if they’re that safe, why don’t you take them to Earth?”
Ben spoke to someone standing outside the viewing field. Maurice strained to hear what was said. The boy nodded his head and then replied to her.
“Earth is too unstable. We dare not go there.”
Saskia gave a tired groan. Maurice realized that Judy was watching him watching Saskia in the console. She wore that impassive expression of hers. What was she thinking? He dismissed the thought and turned back to the job at hand.
“What are we going to do, Saskia?” he asked.
“We might as well take the suits with us,” said Saskia irritably. “We’re going to Earth anyway. You sort it all out, Maurice. I’m going back to sleep.”
She reached out, and the viewing field from which she spoke shrank to nothing, leaving Maurice alone in the little hold with Judy and the image of Ben. He realized everyone was looking at him. Fine. Maurice stared at the space where she had just been. Just fine. As soon as the heat is on, you dodge the decisions.
“What do you think we should do, Judy?” Maurice asked, turning to her.
“I’m just a passenger,” said Judy. “But, as you’re asking me, I say make it easy on yourself. I told you, someone is planning my life for me. If they want us to take those crates with us, then you’ll be wasting your time trying to resist them.”
Maurice rubbed his hands together thoughtfully.
“Okay, Ben, we’ll trade.”
“Good,” said Ben. “I’ll get my dad to start the FE process.”
The boy glanced out of the range of the viewing field again, as if listening to someone nearby. Maurice noted the décor on the other ship: a tropical collection of bamboo and woven grass. Did they have the heating turned up on board there to complement the décor? Did they spend their evenings drinking long cool drinks in sand-covered leisure rooms?
Ben was nodding his head. “Oh, yes,” he was saying, “good idea.”
He turned back to Maurice. “Listen, Eva Rye, don’t bother plotting an intercept course. We’ll launch the cargo into space. Your course will intersect with it in just over four hours. You can pick it up as you pass.”
Maurice bit his lip as he reached for his console. Somebody had all this planned out in advance. What were the chances of two ships flying on such similar courses in the vastness of space?
He activated the FE software. “I’m handshaking now.”
“Good, we’ll speak to you soon.”
Ben’s viewing field shrank away to nothing.
In the hollow space of the little cargo hold, Maurice watched flowing colors ripple into life above his console as the Eva Rye ’s FE software hand-shook with that of the A Capella . Silence fell in the little hold. Black-and-white tiles twinkled amongst the sparse collection of crates that lay scattered about over the walls and ceiling.
“Can I give you some advice?” said Judy suddenly.
“Would I be able to stop you?”
“Sleep with Saskia,” said Judy, ignoring his weary tone. “You are both sexually frustrated and more compatible than you would imagine: I saw the way you looked at her in that viewing field. I think recreational sexual intercourse would do you both some good.”
Maurice turned and stared at her. He was already voicing his reply before he properly had time to think about it.
“Well, if we’re being frank, why don’t I sleep with you instead? You’re so good at reading people, you must know I find you attractive.”
“You can’t sleep with me. I’m a virgin,” said Judy simply. “I thought I told you this already. Besides which, you find Saskia more attractive—you just don’t know it yet. Now, why don’t you play me a tune on your clarinet?”
Maurice stroked the case and said nothing.
“Okay,” said Judy, “let’s make it worth your while. Let’s put it through the FE software. You play for me, and I’ll sleep with you. We’ll get FE to work out the difference on the transaction.”
Maurice turned pale. “Don’t make jokes like that, Judy. You don’t know what FE is like. Your virginity will come at too high a price. You’ve no idea how such a transaction would affect the ship!”
“I’ll take the risk if you will, Maurice.”
Maurice was frightened. Judy was gazing at him like a robot might. It’s not me she’s doing this to, he thought. She’s doing this to make a point—but to herself. A flicker on the co
nsole caught his eye.
“There’s the next one.” He pointed, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“The next what?” asked Judy.
“The next FE-equipped ship. You’re right, Judy. Someone has something planned for us.”
He turned to face her, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.
“Who are you Judy?”
Judy said nothing. He began to wonder how old she was. Older than she looked, he guessed. The skin on her face was so smooth, and yet he noted tiny little lines at the edges of her eyes. She lacked some of the easy joy of a younger person, but she had gained the relaxed grace and poise of experience.
“Who are you?” he repeated. “When you say you’re a virgin, you make it sound like it’s some sort of species, not a life choice.”
“Who am I?” said Judy. And for a moment Maurice expected to hear the words “no one special,” but he realized this was not what Judy was thinking. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Me?” she repeated. “I’m Judy. I had twelve copies made of my mind. We were all virgins, and we all pledged to remain so.”
“Why?”
“You wouldn’t understand. But it was a way of holding something in common. We all worked for Social Care, myself and my twelve digital sisters.”
“What’s the matter? What happened? You look so wistful.”
Judy brushed her hands through her hair again.
“They were all killed,” she said, “each and every one of them.”
“But why?”
“Chris! I told you, Chris had my sisters killed because he thought that it would help me to see his point of view.” Her dark eyes were fixed upon his. He wanted to look away. She went on in her soft voice.
“Chris had an associate called Kevin. Have you ever heard of him? Kevin? Almost a man. He wasn’t a human as such, nor an atomic being like you or me. He was digital construct, an AI written by DIANA. That’s a coincidence, isn’t it? It was a DIANA ship that found me, a DIANA ship that performed FE
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