Geosynchron

  On the dawn of the fourth day, Josiah Surina's manifesto hit the Data Sea.

  Serr Vigal read the entire thing aloud to him that morning, incredulous. Another Surina in the world-and not only that, but he was Quell's son, of all people. Suddenly so many of the hints Jara had dropped over the past week made sense. Jara and the fiefcorp had been hired by Quell for a consulting job; Quell's son had been about to unveil his identity. Horvil couldn't quite figure out how the two facts meshed, but he was sure there was a connection.

  The engineer tried to get the scuttlebutt directly from Jara, but it took him almost two days to reach her. Even then, she only had a minute for him. "Things are crazy here, as you can imagine," she said over Confidential Whisper.

  "I can," said Horvil. "I'm good at imagining."

  Jara acknowledged the salacious undertone in his voice with an amused sniff, then continued. "Magan Kai Lee's people are moving into the warehouse district, and there are protests all over the place. Peaceful so far, but who knows for how long. Not only that, but General Cheronna decided to move the main Islander army right next door to Magan's. They're practically on top of each other."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "I don't know. Maybe to prevent Magan's armies from getting out of hand. Whatever the reason, it's proving to be something of a problem."

  "What does Magan have to say about it?"

  "Who knows? He's disappeared."

  Horvil decided not to expend too much mental power resolving the problems of world politics. He and Serr Vigal continued to keep vigil at the booth, (artificial) night and (artificial) day. By the end of the ninth day in the Proud Eagle booth, even Richard Taylor was starting to reconsider their strategy.

  And then Horvil received a peculiar visitor.

  The man looked like your typical hired muscle. Sculpted abdomen, stone-stiff biceps, head as bald as a newborn's with the exception of his porcupine eyebrows. He approached the Proud Eagle booth, claiming that his son wanted to transfer to a more challenging hive. He asked Horvil and Vigal to meet him for a private appointment.

  "What's your son's name?" asked Horvil suspiciously.

  "Nohwan," replied the brawny interloper.

  The engineer rubbed his chin. "No One? What kind of a name is that?"

  "It's his name." Then, in a fit of impatience: "Just come to the Treble Clef in Sixth Ring already. Two hours. Okay?"

  Richard Taylor suspected a trap and didn't want Horvil and Vigal to go.

  "Do you not admit that he could be trying to appear he has information about Natch, when in fact he has none?" said the Pharisee in their hotel room. "What if this Molloy attempts to hold you for ransom? Or what if he attempts to rob you?"

  "We'll go in multi," said Horvil with a shrug.

  Despite their nonchalance in the presence of the Pharisee, Horvil knew there was real potential for danger. What if the man had taken his Aunt Berilla or his cousin Benyamin captive and threatened harm to them if his demands weren't met? What if he was attempting some kind of blackmail scheme? A reminder that the virtual world was as fraught with risk as the flesh world.

  Horvil and Serr Vigal walked into the Treble Clef right on time. It proved to be a thoroughly unmemorable place: one long bar made from fake mahogany, several booths of a much blonder fake wood running along the other wall, and an assortment of mismatched tables in between. The only distinguishing characteristic was a large sculpture of the bar's namesake hanging in the far corner of the room, which Horvil suspected someone had salvaged from the colony's earlier incarnation as a religious retreat.

  The burly man who had summoned them sat at the end of the bar sipping something dark and fermented. "He's over there," said Molloy casually, hitching a thumb over his shoulder at a booth next to the treble clef.

  Where Natch sat patiently in the shadows. His hair was a different color, and his eyes had changed too, Horvil could see by the power of a telescopic program. But it was definitely him.

  Horvil and Serr Vigal barely had time to form happy expressions of surprise on their faces before they each felt a hand clasp them on the shoulder and sensed a short presence coming between them.

  "Thanks for your assistance," said Lieutenant Executive Magan Kai Lee. "I'm not sure I would have found him without you."

  27

  Natch watches Magan Kai Lee stride up to him in full uniform, dartgun holstered at his side, uncaring who sees him pass. Magan observes the steaming carafe and two empty cups on the table and takes a whiff. The lieutenant executive does not often indulge in alcohol, Natch's research tells him, even with metabolizing OCHREs at full blast. But when he does drink, hot sake is his beverage of choice. "You're not surprised to see me," says Magan, stating the obvious.

  "Tell me how many officers you brought with you," Natch replies coolly, without transition.

  Magan quickly recovers his equanimity. Natch has caught him off guard, but the lieutenant executive is not one to stay flat of foot for long. "Ample," he says.

  "Good. You're going to need them. There's an empty storefront two blocks down, towards the dock. This side of the street. You'll find Halloran Kushida and five of his men there with at least a dozen crates of Chomp and Chill Polly. They're only going to be there for another half an hour. If you hurry, you can catch them. Careful, though-he's a coward, but he's usually armed to the teeth."

  "Who-"

  "Trust me, you want Halloran Kushida. Don't worry, I'll be here when you get back."

  The lieutenant executive casts a distrustful eye at the rococo treble clef and the carafe of sake. He's been burned too many times to take anything Natch says at face value. "How do I know that I can trust you?"

  "You don't. But unless you brought more firepower here than Len Borda brought to the Tul Jabbor Complex, you're going to have to."

  Magan lets his guard down long enough for a vigorous laugh to escape. It leavens the mood considerably. The lieutenant executive gives Natch a curt nod and dashes off to speak with two of his undercover officers who are inhabiting a booth at the other end of the bodega.

  Horvil and Serr Vigal approach him as soon as Magan is out of earshot. Horvil seems somewhat sheepish now that he's actually faceto-face with his old friend, while Vigal looks like he's holding back tears of gratitude.

  "So," begins Horvil lamely, twirling his hands like a magician about to reveal his latest trick. "I guess we found you."

  "You did."

  Vigal is studying him closely. "You're uninjured? You're okay?"

  "I am."

  Natch feels a little awkward being so laconic with his oldest friend and his legal guardian. These aren't strangers, but the two people in the world who know him better than anyone. Yet Natch senses that the gulf separating them has only grown wider in the past few months. How to explain what he has been through? How to explain that the person they have been pursuing spiraled down into nothingness on the streets of Old Chicago? Not only is that person gone, but some of the memories of their common experiences have disappeared too.

  Apparently Horvil and Vigal also perceive that something has changed. Now that they've found him, they don't quite know what to say. Natch takes the initiative. "Who's the Pharisee that's been traveling with you?" he asks.

  Horvil and Vigal exchange a look. "Richard Taylor," says the engineer. "Very nice guy. He's the whole reason we were able to track you here in the first place. Says he belongs to an organization that you've dealt with-the Renowned Order of, of the ..."

  "The Faithful Order of the Children Unshackled?" says Natch. "Yes, I remember them. What does he want?"

  "Says he's got a message for you." Horvil heads off the inevitable question with a shrug. "I have no idea. You'll have to ask him."

  The conversation loses its legs at that point. Serr Vigal looks like he's burgeoning with awkward questions and confessions that aren't appropriate for a 49th Heaven bodega, so Natch decides to usher them out for now. "Listen, Magan's going to be back any minute. I'm going to need to ta
lk with him." He gestures at the lieutenant executive, who has been holding intense conversations with a series of grim Council officers that are streaming purposefully in and out of the doorway. The proprietor has been watching all this with a terror approaching full-on meltdown.

  "I'm sorry," says Vigal, hands in his pockets and eyes downcast. "We really had no idea Magan Kai Lee was following us. If we had known we were leading him to you ..."

  Natch waves his hand dismissively. "Of course you didn't know. I'm aware of that. Don't worry, if I didn't want to talk to him, I would have stayed hidden. Things are different now."

  "So. . ."

  "Why don't you wait for me at your hotel. I'll catch up with you in an hour or two, after I'm done with Magan." And then, seeing the anxious expressions on Horvil's and Vigal's faces at his suggestion: "As I said, things are different now. I'm not running anymore. Not ever again. I'll come find you."

  The engineer and the neural programmer might realize that something has changed, but they still aren't persuaded by Natch's words. Nevertheless, they give him awkward pats on the shoulder and edge out of the bodega with multiple backward glances.

  Not two minutes later, Magan Kai Lee returns. He takes a seat opposite Natch without asking and pours himself two fingers of sake. "My troops are coordinating with the 49th Heaven L-PRACGs. They've got the storefront under surveillance, and it looks like Halloran Kushida will be in our custody within the hour." Magan lifts the green ceramic cup to his face and inhales. "Mah Lo Vertiginous keeps saying that my struggle with Borda is causing a collapse of law and order. This arrest will provide a nice counterweight to that argument." He downs the sake with a single gulp, smiles. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," replies the entrepreneur. "Kushida's the last of the big Chomp dealers on 49th Heaven. The local L-PRACGs will find the trade much easier to control from here on out."

  "So you are this `Nohwan' that's been cleaning up the black coders here on 49th Heaven. Rey Gonerev suspected as much, but I didn't believe her. I couldn't see a reason you would do something like that."

  "I've been through a lot in the past few months," says Natch.

  "I suppose you have. You've been able to elude my officers here for over a week."

  "I've had a lot of practice."

  Magan nods and pours himself more sake. Natch wonders if his alcohol-metabolizing OCHREs are on or off, but there's no reliable way to tell. All the bio/logic programs that purport to detect blood alcohol content from a distance are easily scammed. "I suppose I could try to tease the truth out of you bit by bit," says the lieutenant executive. "But after your little gift, I'm in no mood for games. So I'll just ask you outright. Why give me Kushida?"

  "With all the other big players gone, I can't take him down by myself."

  "That's not what I mean," replies Magan. "You must be aware that Len Borda has agents trying to track you down as well. Some of them have even followed Horvil and Serr Vigal here. Two of them are lying in an alley outside with black code darts in their necks." Magan makes a gesture over his left shoulder. "You could have given this arrest to Borda. You could have stayed hidden and found some other avenue to pursue Kushida. But instead you chose to give him to me. Why?"

  Natch decides to try the sake himself and pours a sliver into his cup. The brew is pungent, yet surprisingly soothing after the initial kick. "I read Josiah Surina's manifesto," he says. "I saw what you agreed to do for the Islanders. It intrigued me."

  "Intrigued you how?"

  "It made me wonder if I really understood your motives for pursuing MultiReal and rebelling against Borda."

  The lieutenant executive nods, and his expression quickly hardens into solemnity. Natch doesn't think he's ever met anyone with such a tight control over his tongue. "Let me make one thing clear. I did not choose this rebellion. I was prepared to wait for Len Borda to step down from the high executive's chair. He fired the first shot."

  Natch finds that horrific day in Melbourne rearing up in his memory again, as it has so often in the past few months. Infoquakes rumbling, darts flying in every direction, Serr Vigal passed out on the floor, Brone's fanatics in black. Council officers firing upon other Council officers. He's lost so much memory lately, but every detail of that day is carved in his memory, rigid and indelible. It was such a calamitous event for Natch that he sometimes forgets he is not the only one who suffered that day. "You're being obtuse," he tells Magan. "There are any number of ways you could have reacted to Borda's actions at the Tul Jabbor Complex. You could have called for the Prime Committee to impeach him."

  "That would not have worked," says the lieutenant executive flatly. "Gorda owns the Committee."

  "You could have taken your case to the public then. The drudges would have listened. They would have trumpeted your evidence to the skies. Instead you decided to play down Borda's attempt to kill you and focus on armed rebellion." Natch pours himself another cup, but decides to simply hold it in his hands for a moment and savor the warmth. "It made me wonder what you were really up to."

  Magan is reflective now as he spills a third serving of sake into his cup. Natch is beginning to think that the lieutenant executive is allowing himself the luxury of creeping intoxication after all. "You have been to Sao Paulo," says Magan. "I take it you know something now about the Patels' MultiReal-D programs."

  "They kept me their prisoner for several days," replies Natch, surprised that he's no longer angry about his captivity. "Petrucio explained it all to me pretty thoroughly."

  The lieutenant executive seems amused at the idea of Natch's imprisonment, but he's curious as well. "They imprisoned you-even though you had MultiReal? How did they accomplish that?"

  Natch explains the MultiReal-D SeeNaRee room to him. Magan seems impressed.

  "Remarkably clever," he says, chuckling. "It only underscores what I've believed all along. Private companies are better at innovation than government entities." He takes a sip of his sake but does not down the whole cup. "Hardly a revolutionary statement to you, coming from the fiefcorp sector. But you'd be surprised how many people in the Council and the Prime Committee still disagree vehemently with me on that point."

  "If you believe that ... then why seize MultiReal for the government?"

  "Who says I ever intended to?"

  "Rey Gonerev said so, at the Tul Jabbor Complex."

  "Not so." Magan smiles. "Rey never advocated keeping the program in the government's hands. She simply argued that the program shouldn't be left in your hands." He finishes his sake, puts down his cup, and makes no move to pour another. "The fact of the matter is that my goal has always been to let MultiReal out into the marketplace-with regulation and oversight by the centralized government."

  Natch frowns. He has always assumed that Magan's reticence to explain his motives was covering for something much more sinister. Could he have been wrong about Magan Kai Lee? "If that's the case, why have you been so coy about it? Why haven't you been open about your intentions, instead of letting everyone believe you're planning to seize the program for the Council?"

  "It's quite a tightrope I have to walk, Natch. Until recently, I've had to convince Len Borda that I was trustworthy enough to be the Council's point person on MultiReal. I've had to rally my supporters in the Council who believe the government should have control of MultiReal. But at the same time, I've had to leave enough room to allow MultiReal to be sold to the public when I take the high executive's seat." Magan sits back, plants one elbow on the table, and rests his chin on his fist. "Would I have been better off declaring my intentions for MultiReal from the beginning? Perhaps. I don't really know anymore.

  "You have to understand something. We live in a world that's too dangerous for extremes. Putting MultiReal solely in the hands of the Defense and Wellness Council, or throwing it out to the marketplace unregulated-neither solution is acceptable. We need to be able to forge consensus today. Make compromises, walk tightropes. That's why I worked diligently to get MultiReal into the hands
of the one person involved who understands this, the one person I judged strong enough to withstand the pressure from all sides and make deals with the government."

  "Jara," says Natch.

  "Jara," Magan agrees. "I thought the Patel Brothers could accomplish this, at first. I soon discovered that what I originally thought to be capable of seeing multiple points of view was really willing to do anything for money." They both laugh. "There's a big difference. Still, Frederic and Petrucio have come up with some useful ideas. If everything had gone the way I planned, we would have been able to release some good defensive programs to help ease the public's anxiety about MultiReal. Programs that could actually help protect them from totalitarian government."

  Natch sits back, attempting to fit this new vision of Magan Kai Lee with the one that he's had in his head for all these months. It makes him a little uneasy, this yen for flexibility that's so quick to mask itself under pressure. But compared to the unyielding Len Borda, Natch can live with it. "So if you do triumph over Len Borda," he says, "what do you envision for MultiReal after that?"

  Magan has obviously thought this question through, because he has an answer right on the tip of his tongue. "The formation of a quasigovernmental entity to study the program," he replies. "Followed by several years of intensive experimentation and public discussion about the dangers and challenges of multiple realities. Then a limited public release of MultiReal by those private companies that meet our qualifications and agree to oversight by the Prime Committee and the Congress of L-PRACGs. Provided all that is successful, finally we embark on a ten-year period where restrictions are gradually loosened until we're satisfied that the public's safety is ensured."