‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’ the man asked.
Her mind reached out for the answer. The doctor’s memory showed her coming alone. She grabbed for more: her entering his offices, the discussion about the procedure.
Otis Plunkett was an off-Weave doctor who performed illegal surgeries in Joberg. His own past was a mire of casual missteps that had led him to become extremely non-judgemental and non-inquisitive about the clients he attracted.
‘Miz Grey, could you stop that, please? I’m trying to concentrate.’
Stage one was the preparation of her body. Nerve stimulation and systemic foundation.
Stage two would be the skin transference: a neural-less symbiot would cover her in a soft shell, thinning as it spread. By the time it was finished she would be two inches taller, twenty pounds heavier and appear to be a lightskin from the Cape.
Not only did the symbiot disguise her body, it weighted her muscles differently and affected her gait and mannerisms, thus preventing detection by kinetic patterns. It would also dive deeper to tweak her vocal cords and tongue in order to change her voice. And, of course, her eye colour would change to blue.
The process of becoming unrecognisable took twenty-four hours, most of which she wasn’t allowed to move for. When the doctor was satisfied with the first stage and had begun the skin transference, he sat by her side and helped her drink juice through a straw.
‘Now, Miz Grey, what were you talking about before? It was sounding like a spot of amnesia.’
‘It was. It passed.’
‘Nothing unusual then. Happens all the time with the anaesthetic. You’d be amused by the things people say when they start waking up. I once had a man insisting I was his father, and he became so upset when I said I wasn’t that he couldn’t stop crying. I had to pretend he was my son for four hours.’
The third stage was the slow install of her new symbiot with the backstory of her new identity. It was best to go slow so her own brain could take on some of the information. It was loaded linearly from childhood until the present.
There were no memories, of course; none of the data was more than fabrication. The evidence was all counterfeit: photos, footage, interactions that had been implanted into the Weave years ago; an off-the-shelf identity that was pre-made for clients such as Tamsin. An identity grown over years so as to infiltrate the omnipresent Weave with corresponding evidence.
In this new life she was born of Joberg parents who managed a herbarium and was named Maria, after her grandmother, Maria Steyn. Her parents were Johan and Anna Steyn. They were real people who had rebelled against the population controls and had had four offspring. Maria, their third, was raised with her sisters in a shed in the gardens. This background was good for its plausibility and because it didn’t require much recorded evidence.
There were photos of her as a child: birthday parties in the gardens; planting and harvesting; rescuing their meagre possessions when a burst water pipe flooded them that one time. Despite the ramshackle squalor, it was a place filled with life, and the games she and her sisters made up.
Maria played catch and kiss with the local boys. The Steyns were not the only family to break the child ban. Her first boyfriend was Adam Roux and though she thought he was a tad big-featured, he brought flowers to where she lived every day until she agreed to be his girlfriend.
It was all fake, every detail made up or copied from another similar life. The more of the timeline that was soaked into her symbiot, the more Tamsin felt the loss of this life she never lived. In her childhood, after she had been collected, she never saw other children. Her daily life had been testings and punishments. She didn’t even remember her parents. She didn’t even know if Tamsin was the name they had given her or whether Services had created it.
‘Saudade,’ she whispered, though where the word came from she didn’t know. From herself, from Maria. Or Pierre?
~ * ~
Tamsin next awoke in another room. There was space for a bed and just enough standing room to disrobe. There was a faux window on one wall with a default forest vista, a blank viewscreen on another, a door on the third and the fourth was all mirror.
She watched herself undress before the mirror. The disconnect was like watching a film, or immersing in a sensorium, seeing some other person strip while feeling every sensation. She touched the cloth under her fingers, felt it slide over her skin. But now her skin was paler, heavily freckled, hair a heavy blonde. Turning around, she could see the arch of her back and the shape of her legs had rounded. Nothing about her was the same.
It was hard to feel like her.
She leant in closer to look this stranger in the eyes.
‘Hello,’ she said, though it sounded more like ‘healyo’. She must learn to control that. ‘My name is Tamsin Grey ...’ That certainly felt odd; a naked stranger was standing before her claiming she had her name. ‘My name is Maria.’
Tamsin closed her eyes. Pierre? Are you there?
She waited for no answer. She knew why he had made her do this. So she could hide in plain sight. So she could act. But he had never told her what she was meant to do.
Pierre? Where are you?
Otis let her rest in the room and practise with her new body until the next morning. She did not see him again, only heard his voice through a hidden speaker telling her when it was time to leave. Her path out from the building led her on a long and twisted trail, down stairways and along tunnels. He was well hidden and she admired his precautions. Many of his clients would be tempted to remove the sole witness to their transformation. She wondered how he had learnt that lesson.
Tamsin felt as though she was walking in a dream. A body not her own, walking through unrecognisable tunnels. When a doorway led onto the street, she stopped and stared, taken aback by the sunlight and noise.
She had never spent any time in Joberg. It was crowded, but organised like all the megapolises in the WU. The groundways were slower-moving and colourful, varied as a parade. People walked the streets in loose clothing of dense patterns, carrying baskets, pushing prams, leading animals or bots, riding on camels, hovers, even bicycles. Overhead, lines of squibs zipped across the sky.
As Maria Steyn, Tamsin was free. There was no Services botlock on her arm, no squad following her around and nobody knew where she was.
Thank you, Pierre.
She knew so little of this outside world or what and how the people thought. Tamsin had not had the opportunity to simply stand and wait and figure out her choices in living memory. She didn’t know what to do. At first she just stood to the side of the busy thoroughfare and let the million minds go past her. It was a jumble, but there were patterns to their thoughts.
There was only one way to get information that she knew of and it wasn’t by asking for it. As the people rushed by, she dipped in and out of their heads, looking for clues. A lot of them were just thinking about their own lives, their next task or meeting, but quite a few were still troubled by the recent manifestation. She concentrated on those. Very quickly she was up to speed on what was recorded from that day, and the civic fallout that had taken place.
Tamsin was certain now that Pierre must have been controlling her. It was too much of a coincidence that the last thing she could remember was waiting to confront him, and then she was in a strange city unable to recall what had happened since.
She felt edited.
Why did he take me in the first place if only to leave me now?
The Weave was pushing for stricter enforcement, more psi control. That much was clear. There would be a clampdown across the globe. And she couldn’t have that. They were her future army.
She had to get more data. The clampdown was starting, and she needed to know where and when if she was to do anything about it. She also needed help.
~ * ~
Ryu Shima’s first act was to call a meeting of the highest council and to broadcast a public speech to the Wea
ve from the steps of the Adjudicators Ministry.
Randstad was one of the most intact historical areas under the Dome. When the Örjian menace ploughed the lands, they luckily tilled east rather than south and everything below the trajectory line was untouched.
For Ryu it was a strange grey land. Hard. Yantz was verdant like new growth, but places like this were like older woody branches. The age of the cultures was aptly captured in their architecture.
The World Union had no permanent seat, but Ryu had nominated Den Haag so it would look to the world as though the authority was coming from an old and established part of civilisation, counteracting his unfortunate youth. It was also as close to the manifestation site as he wanted to go.
That word twisted around his mind like a worm. Wriggling with a life of its own. That word had got him where he was now, squibbing a slow descent toward the crowd of pedestrians who wanted to ‘be there’ when the Primacy council met in person for the first time in nearly thirty years.
‘Citizens, Servicemen and denizens of Earth. Whether you consider yourself a part of the World Union or not, this message is intended for all.
‘An unknown force has attacked us. Without reason or provocation one of our proudest cultural centres has been decimated. What has been lost cannot be rebuilt or retrieved. The thousands of men, women and children who lost their lives are lost to us forever.
‘I, Ryu Shima, of House Shima in the Yantz precinct, have been chosen by the Will to confront this threat. My position is clear, and as the Will has selected me for Prime I must surmise that the majority also believes this manifestation was of psionic origin. Whether it was the actions of an individual or a group, I will root out this threat and, together, we will pacify it.
‘With regard to those who have come before us, whose inaction may have led us into this turmoil: I remind you that they governed based on the circumstances of the time and the information they had at hand. In the light of this new day, we could present criticism, but it is only hindsight that makes today’s choices any stronger than yesterday’s. I urge you all not to prosecute members of the previous Primacy. They have spoken for us through fifty years of peace. There is no cause for reprimand.
‘Despite the horror of this recent act of violence, our way of life remains sacrosanct and secure and it must remain so. Though we are strong, a weakness exists. But let me tell you, we can and we will defend ourselves and our society from this growing threat.
‘All Citizens can take comfort that preparations have been put in place to cleanse our union of the psionic threat. The defensive actions we can take have commenced and I hope that soon we will be able to report to you that my job is done and we can again live our lives as normal.
‘For the World Union, the Will, peace and prosperity.’
~ * ~
Takashi: Well done, Ryu. Now for the real thing.
Ryu: Don’t listen in. If you are discovered, you’ll get us both in trouble.
Takashi: I don’t expect you’ll be saying anything interesting anyway. I think I might order me a new doll in your honour.
Ryu: Enjoy yourself.
Takashi: You too, brother.
~ * ~
The Adjudicators Ministry was one of the few places in the world with sanctioned privacy. Citizens could find unmonitored, unrecorded privacy anywhere at any time by disconnecting temporarily from the Weave or reducing to passive observation. But it was always recorded when people dipped into anonymity, which bred speculation.
It was recognised that some discussions, of sensitive issues, required discretion. Conflicts and negotiations happened in adjudicator facilities around the globe, but the ministry that founded the practice began with this one building, to plan the end of the Örjian ordeal and co-ordinate the fledgling World Union.
The outer wall, the first ring of silence, was built of old stone, collected as a symbol of unification from buildings destroyed in the collapse. At this first checkpoint Ryu changed from his own clothes into a suit that had been pre-checked for electronic equipment. It was simple black.
Before leaving the ring, official attendants confirmed that his symbiot was disabled and a discharge lock was fixed in place. If the lock detected any electrical activity, its small light would turn from green to red and release a powerful shock that would kill the symbiot and cause grievous harm to the wearer.
The second ring of silence was a lively garden despite its name. It was a large cultivated indoor forest, inhabited noisily with chirruping birds and the tones of insects. The attendant led Ryu along an artificial creek that took him to the doorway of what looked like a mausoleum, built of heavy cream marble with a double doorway of reinforced oak.
The attendant pulled open the heavy doors and left Ryu in an antechamber that led to a waiting room. Designed for occupants who weren’t allowed directly into the inner sanctum, the room held a long bench for sitting or lying down, and some paper reading material about the founding of the World Union and catalogues of precedent adjudications. Each member of the Primacy would arrive in this way.
The inner building of the original ministry was religious in character. A rounded steeple of authority atop a central chamber. Before it was turned over for public use, it held the first ministry forum, was witness to the birth of the World Union and Services, and the trial of Orj.
Here the forum sat, a ring of tiered stone seats, almost a Greek agora in design, now filling up with the world’s most influential people. Ryu stood on the open circle that was the focus of the arena. He had studied the people in the room beforehand. Many he had been watching and supporting his whole civic life. They knew who he had endorsed, past or present, and he knew the same about them.
There were six in the room who had been members of the first ministry. The changing of the guard had brought some of the old soldiers back into focus. General Zim, Admiral Shreet, Blair Butler, Chayton Miller, Mona Vigg and Mary Blessing. He bowed to each of them in turn.
There weren’t many in the Primacy who were happy to have such a young man at their head, but they knew how the system worked. They could angle all they liked to change the hierarchy, but for now, the Will lay with him.
Ryu already had the unerring support of at least two members, one a manufacturer and one who was heavily involved in the upkeep of the psi islands. He had his work cut out with the rest to get their support.
If he understood the military-minded correctly, they would reserve judgement until he succeeded or failed, unless of course he proposed something they deemed utterly crazy.
He called the meeting to order and they all took their seats. The room was closed.
‘Honoured council. I thank you for agreeing to meet in person. It may seem like an extraordinary measure, but I think you will agree, a necessary one.
‘You have all heard my public sentiments. Let me assure you that they were sincere. An unexpected event has occurred. Its origin is suspected but unexplained. It has capsized the civil balance and brought an all-new council into being — excepting Senator Demos, who has survived the transition.’ Ryu indicated the larger than standard man with spiky black hair and the jowls of a hound dog. Demos was the only legacy member of yesterday’s Primacy, a feat largely due to the ongoing faith of his constituency that he would always act in their own interests. Ryu wondered if self-interest would drive him also.
‘This is the total of what we know. At 5.58 a.m. on April Seventh a psionic individual or group of psionics destroyed an historic area of a populated metropolis. This not only shows a callous disregard for human life, but for our history and all that we have been trying to rebuild since the collapse.
‘If the recent events, as the evidence leads us to believe, were the result of a psionic manifestation, and if we carry this realisation to its logical conclusion, then our entire civil structure could be at risk.’
‘Surely you are exaggerating?’ Charlotte Betts interrupted, even though he held the floor.
> ‘I hope so, Representative, but who knows if you or I are under the influence of a telepath?’ Ryu glanced at each member in turn. ‘Any of us could be. We may have been affected in the past, or we might be in the future. In fact, who is to say that the voters that have brought us here were not themselves affected?’
‘You are taking this to an absurd level to introduce irrational fear.’
‘Perhaps I am. I confess, Miz Betts, I do not know. But I would like us all to consider the point and question how safe our minds can be. And how large an effect a stray telepath or two could possibly have.’ Ryu focused on Charlotte once more. ‘Can you tell me for certain?’
‘Of course I can’t.’
‘Many of you, like me, are new to the Primacy, and we must be vigilant of misusing this new-found power. We must be sure not to take any misstep. We work for the Will of the people. Don’t be too alarmed, my suggestions are nothing unreasonable, but it is simply that we must be sure. I recommend that each of us shelter our minds from possible interference. However you interacted with the world before, you must change it. We must begin to limit outside contact.’
The Hunt for Pierre Jnr Page 16