‘Would you grip the two handles on your side of the Get-Me-Straighter Meter, Burl, and then look into the viewer? There will be a flash of light, but don’t be alarmed. It’s only to help enhance your psychic concentration.’
Complete nonsense, of course: the light was simply to activate Standing’s PINC, but it was rigmarole necessary to satisfy the Polly hacks who would be watching proceedings via the CameraBots.
With a crooked smile for the cameras, Standing did as he was told, and once he was properly settled, Aaliz bent forward to look through the eyepiece on her side of the Get-Me-Straighter Meter. ‘Are you ready, Burl?’
‘Yus.’
Aaliz pressed a button on the side of the Meter, flashing the hi-intensity light into Standing’s eyes and switching on the PINC embedded in his brain. She knew that as they sat there, PINC would be working at enormous speed to alter the messages flickering between synapses, and to moderate the responses of Standing’s brain to dopamine stimulation, making it less welcoming to the appetitive motivations caused by Zip. ‘If you will concentrate on my voice, Burl.’ There was no response – the whole of Burl Standing’s attention being directed to the instructions flashing up at subliminal speed before his eyes. Now it was time for Aaliz to perform.
‘You have been addicted to Zip, Burl, but from this moment on you will loathe it and you will find that you do not miss inhaling it. From this moment on you will find God entering your life and cleansing you of this perverse appetite. Do you feel God inside you, Burl?’
Prompted by an instruction from PINC, Burl Standing muttered a distant ‘Yeah.’
‘Then I will count to three, and on the final count you will be free of your addiction. One … two … three.’
Burl Standing slumped back in his chair, and then drew his hand over his sweat-drenched forehead. ‘Jesus …’
‘How do you feel, Burl?’
‘Different … better.’ He looked up and shook his head, obviously not quite believing what had happened to him. ‘That wos really amazing. It wos like someone got inside my ’ead and straightened my brain out. Got rid of all the tangles and the knots that were stopping me thinking proper.’
‘That’s why it’s called the Get-Me-Straighter Meter, Burl, because it gets you thinking straight. You’ve just let God into your life, and God has rewarded you by lifting the burden of addiction from your soul.’
‘Hallelujah.’
37
The Future History Institute: Venice
The Demi-Monde: Walpurgisnacht, 90th Day of Spring, 1005
Copy of PigeonGram message sent by Doctor Jezebel Ethobaal
on 83rd day of Spring, 1005
Watching Vanka Maykov wolf down a dish of brodetto di pesce, Kondratieff found himself wondering just who – or what – Vanka Maykov actually was. He looked normal enough – two arms, two legs and a notable intelligence – but there was no denying that the man was a real puzzlement.
He was undoubtedly a Singularity – one of those special individuals who made a significant impact on Future History – but he was a bloody odd Singularity. The computators working in the Institute kept voluminous records of all those in the Demi-Monde who were deemed to be Singularities in order that their actions and proclivities might be understood and then incorporated into HyperOpia. Unfortunately, the file they had on Vanka Maykov was embarrassingly thin. The information they had on him, prior to his sudden appearance in the Winter of 1000, could be summed up in one word: absent. He had materialised out of nowhere.
But there was more to it than simply this dearth of information. After they had input what sparse data they had on the man, HyperOpia had rejected them on the grounds that Vanka Maykov didn’t exist. Most odd. And then there was Sister Florence’s observation that he had no aura. He was a man with no past, no present and no aura.
Strange …
Nikolai Kondratieff had a natural aversion to anything ‘strange’. ‘Strange’ generally meant that the subject under examination simply refused to be decontextualised, and for a machine like the DAEmon, which had – understandably – a somewhat mechanistic and constructuralist outlook on life, this was a problem.
Looking at the man, as he carelessly mopped up the last vestiges of his soup with a piece of bread, Kondratieff had the sinking feeling that Vanka Maykov was the living embodiment of the term ‘strange’. Kondratieff worried that ‘strange’ might be a euphemism for ‘irredeemably inDeterminate’. And a free spirit like Vanka Maykov had the ability to overturn all their carefully finessed Temporal Interventions – the tweaks to Future History – that he and de Nostredame had been executing … ‘executing’ being the operative word.
And it wasn’t just him who found Vanka Maykov so perplexing. Jezebel Ethobaal had evinced a great deal of interest in the man, especially since Kondratieff had sent her the translation of the Eddic of Loci. The woman was desperate to get Maykov to the JAD so that she and her fellow WhoDooists could examine him more closely. And Kondratieff was fast coming to the conclusion that a holiday in the JAD might be the best thing both for Maykov and for the future of the Demi-Monde. Ethobaal was, after all, the Demi-Monde’s greatest exponent of Lilithian lore, so if she thought Vanka Maykov had a vital role to play in the struggle to defeat the Lady IMmanual, who was he to deny her?
The trick would be getting Maykov to the JAD alive.
‘I am surprised that you have returned to Venice, Monsieur Maykov,’ Kondratieff admitted, ‘returned voluntarily, that is. You are aware that the lettre de cachet for your arrest is still in force?’
Maykov shrugged to show his indifference. He was one of those annoying people who could imbue a shrug with a multitude of meanings. He was a Demi-Monde-class shrugger.
Kondratieff tried again. ‘It must have been difficult to enter the city.’
Maykov shook his head. ‘No. I got across the Canal just after Ella performed her Miracle of the Canal, when the GrandHarms guarding the Rialto Docks had better things to do than protect Venice from ne’er-do-wells like me. They were so blood-drunk that they didn’t even see my gondola land in Venice.’
‘Mademoiselle Williams did remarkably well in the Medi,’ Kondratieff observed casually. ‘The destruction of the Awful Tower sent a powerful message around the Demi-Monde. It signalled that the ForthRight is not invincible.’
That damned shrug again.
He tried another tack. ‘So tell me, what are her plans now?’
‘Norma’s thinking about returning to the Rookeries, and spreading the word about Normalism there.’
‘Striking at the very heart of UnFunDaMentalism, eh? A brave strategy and, I imagine, a very dangerous one. I am surprised that you have left her side at such a crucial time.’
‘She doesn’t need me. She’s got Burlesque Bandstand and Odette Aroca looking after her …’
Now there’s a couple whose files are growing thicker by the minute.
‘… and anyway, I went to the Medi reluctantly, Docteur. I went to help Norma and by doing that help Ella. I went there to show that violence wasn’t the only way of resisting the ForthRight. And now I’ve accomplished this, it’s time for me to try to convince Ella – the Lady IMmanual – that there is an alternative to war and violence.’
‘The impression I have is that the Lady IMmanual really doesn’t need or want your advice, Monsieur Maykov. In your absence, she has become something of a force here in Venice … there are even those calling for her to be awarded the Dogeship. Since she performed the Miracle of the Canal, people are more convinced than ever that she is the Messiah. No, Monsieur Maykov, trying to persuade the Lady IMmanual to change is an exercise in futility.’
‘You don’t understand, Docteur. I love the woman.’
The problem was that Kondratieff didn’t understand. He had always had difficulty with the more intense human emotions: they were so very InDeterminate. As best Kondratieff could judge, love caused the rational functions of the mind to become paralysed, and, being a man who had dedic
ated his life to making the irrational rational, he had given love a very wide berth. Love was a perplexing phenomenon – perplexing and potentially very dangerous.
‘I want to speak to Ella,’ Maykov persisted, ‘to tell her how successful Norma has been with her policy of Normalism, to tell her that, with the ForthRight in retreat, there’s no need for her to go on playing the Lady IMmanual.’
‘I think you are being a little optimistic regarding the defeat of the ForthRight, Monsieur Maykov – my own belief is that Heydrich still has a few shots left in his locker. Moreover, civil disobedience and passive resistance don’t seem to be very popular with the Lady IMmanual, violence does. I understand that she is intent on forging an alliance with NoirVille to fight the ForthRight.’
‘Ella is not a person who embraces war and violence. War, it seems, beckons.’
‘But the Lady IMmanual is.’
‘I have to speak to Ella.’
‘And if she won’t listen?’
Maykov lapsed into a fretful silence as he pondered this unpalatable possibility.
Kondratieff found it quite sad to see how forlorn the man was, especially as HyperOpia predicted that the only things capable of preventing the Lady IMmanual from following the path leading to Demi-Monde-wide war and destruction were the Messiah … and the Lady’s assassination. Despite what Ethobaal claimed, Kondratieff’s opinion was that any impact Maykov would have on this OutCome would be nugatory.
Kondratieff tried again. ‘I repeat: your place is at the side of Mademoiselle Williams.’
‘My place is with Ella.’ Vanka Maykov looked straight into Kondratieff’s eyes. ‘I must speak with her. And to do that I need your help, Nikolai. It’s impossible to get into the Palace without a warrant.’
Kondratieff thought for a moment, his fine brain chewing over the possible OutComes. In a way it was quite refreshing to be faced by a conundrum like Vanka Maykov, which the DAEmon couldn’t help him with, and to have to rely on his own intellect for once. And what his cogitations and the increasingly urgent advice of Jezebel Ethobaal told him was that it was better to help Vanka Maykov, and therefore know what the man was going to do, than to deny him such assistance and then have him do something very unorthodox.
And maybe it would be better to help him see his beloved Ella. Maybe if he was to see her as she truly was, the scales of love would fall from his eyes.
‘Very well, I will appeal to the Doge on your behalf. My belief is that the best time to visit the Lady IMmanual will be tonight, during the Walpurgisnacht celebrations.’
The chamberlain ushered Nikolai Kondratieff into the Receiving Chamber, where he was to attend the Doge. When he saw her, it took all of his self-control to prevent the shock showing on his face. He could see that the woman had aged alarmingly, the travails she had been subjected to of late seemed to have drained her of all her strength and vitality.
‘Your message said you had zomething of “great urgency” to discuss mit me, Kondratieff.’ She flapped a tired hand to indicate that he should seat himself.
‘Indeed, Your Excellency. I have had a visit from the Lady IMmanual’s former lover, the Russian Vanka Maykov.’
‘But I understand zhat zhere is a lettre de cachet for his arrest in force.’
‘That is correct, Your Excellency, but Maykov is a very reckless individual who is somewhat indifferent to legal niceties.’
‘So vhat does zhis rogue want?’
‘To speak with the Lady IMmanual. He is worried she has become besotted with violence. He is of the opinion that she has “changed”, and that she has fallen under the influence of unprincipled men.’
The Doge gave an unhappy laugh. ‘He might be right zhere. As “unprincipled men” go, zhere are few as unprincipled az zhe Marquis de Sade.’
‘Indeed, the man has a somewhat mottled reputation.’
‘Mottled? Zhe bastard isn’t “mottled”, Kondratieff: he’s perverted.’ The Doge eyed Kondratieff carefully. ‘Do you think zhis Maykov can truly influence zhe Lady IMmanual? She really does zeem to have become a proponent of war, unt zhough I have tried to persuade her zhat Venice’s power is based on commerce not artillery she zeems not to vish to listen.’
‘Well, Maykov is now a Normalist and is, I believe, sincere in his desire to try to persuade her that peace is preferable to war. His concern for the girl is quite moving. He loves her.’
‘Young love? Very touching. But I am unsure az to vhether his presence vill be a help or a hindrance.’
‘Maykov is a determined and resourceful individual who, one way or another, will find a way to speak to the Lady IMmanual.’
Doge Catherine-Sophia thought on the matter, obviously weighing her options. Kondratieff knew the last thing she would want was Maykov disrupting the plans she and Sister Florence had made for the Lady’s seduction by Casanova. It would be better to have him under her control than to risk him making an unscheduled appearance.
‘Zhis Maykov, he has zome reputation as an occultist, has he not? He is a man able to commune mit zhe dead.’
A strange question.
‘I believe that is the case.’
‘Very vell, I vill have zhe chamberlain issue Maykov a varrant to enter zhe palace tonight. He can meet mit zhe Lady IMmanual after zhe Walpurgisnacht celebrations.’
38
Rangoon, Venice and Paris
The Demi-Monde: Walpurgisnacht, 90th Day of Spring, 1005
As ordained by Li, we did on the eighty-eighth day of Spring conduct the Rite of 4Telling, and it is with much disquiet that I record that this reading of the iChing did indicate there to be a great disturbance in the Qi of the Demi-Monde. True HerEticals take comfort in the knowledge that all things in the Kosmos follow a cyclical path, waxing and waning, and that soon will dawn the day when the masculine Yang will yield, once again, to the feminine Yin, and the Demi-Monde will enter the blissful utopia that is MostBien. Until the iChing was consulted during the Spring Rite, it was believed that the rhythm of the Kosmos was moving inexorably towards the Yin, towards the dawning of the Second Age of Femmes, but now it is apparent that there is a new and very disruptive force at work in the Demi-Monde. This force we have identified as the seductive philosophy of Normalism which promotes peace and non-violence between peoples and between genders and thus denies the complementary antagonism of Yin and Yang. Ever the Superior Ruler, the Empress Wu has commanded that steps be taken to remove the obstacle blocking the Path to our achieving that much desired state of MostBien.
Excerpt from the private diary of Imperial NoN Mao Zedong:
88th day of Spring, 1005
Rangoon Docks, the Coven
Reverend Deputy Jeanne Dark gazed skyward through her telescope, and had the distinct feeling that the phoney war was over. Today would be the day when the Coven and the ForthRight began their fight to the death.
‘What are they?’
The question came from her left, from Colonel-Femme Trung Trac, the officer commanding the Covenite Army’s Rangoon defences. She was an able soldier, if a trifle unimaginative.
‘Our intelligence reports that they are three of the ForthRight’s new Vengeance Weapons, known as the V1. They’re dirigibles capable of carrying bombs, designed by a nonFemme called Comrade Engineer Ferdinand von Zeppelin.’
‘They’re huge!’
Dark took a quick glance at Trung Trac, less than impressed by the tremor of fear inflecting her voice. Sure, the three V1s making up the formation that was so ponderously flying towards the Forbidding Palace were impressively big – they looked like monstrous silver cigars, each being, she guessed, 150 metres long – but they were slow and flew at a very low altitude, and that made them vulnerable, especially as they were full of hydrogen.
‘Contain yourself, ColonelFemme. It is incumbent on all commanders to show calm in the face of the unknown.’ Dark turned towards the NoN in charge of the rocket battery. ‘CommanderNoN Jiao Yu, you will prepare to launch as soon as the V1s cross the Volga
. I want all those bastards blown out of the sky.’
Jiao Yu saluted and barked out orders, and coolies started scuttling around, resetting the angle of the launching frames so that the battery’s two hundred rockets were aimed at a point five hundred feet above the river. Perhaps ‘aimed’ was too optimistic a word. The rockets were incredibly arbitrary in what direction they flew after they had been launched, but Dark’s hope was that by firing them en masse and at such a slowmoving and very large target, at least some of them would find their mark.
With every second that passed the V1s edged closer and closer to Rangoon. Now Dark could see the Valknuts emblazoned on the lead V1’s nose, could see the name of the airship – Wrath of the ForthRight – written there and could see the crew manning the nacelle slung beneath the airship as they struggled to manoeuvre the craft in the fresh evening breeze.
‘Fire!’
Instantly a haze of black and foul-smelling smoke enveloped the 200-metre-long rank of rocket frames. Then came gouts of flame and ear-splitting screams as the rockets hurled themselves skywards, the smoke trails they laid down behind them twisting and coiling as they went.
They got lucky. The V1s had flown in a suicidally tight formation and as the rockets hammered into the two trailing V1s, the dirigibles exploded in furious fireballs. The Wrath of the ForthRight was made of sterner stuff: it staggered under the impact, like a boxer stunned by the fury of a punch but ready to fight back. Then Jeanne Dark saw a fire storm blossom inside the airship. Slowly it began to crumple and then to yaw, gradually losing height as it sank, broken, towards the ground.
Rod Rees - [The Demi-Monde 02] Page 42