The Rig

by Levy, Roger

  ‘I hear you’re the place for NTGs. What have you got?’

  ‘NTGs? You know what they are?’ She waved the question away. ‘Never mind. Over there.’

  He looked at the short rack of translucent bootboxes, each with a pair of NTGs hanging in gelair. Fifteen in prime colours, five more in silver and a single gold pair. ‘The gold,’ he said. As she hooked the lone box down, he asked, ‘You sell a lot of these?’

  ‘The gold? No.’ She thought again. ‘Two sets last month, though. Same buyer. Before that, I can’t remember.’ She turned the box over. The boots shimmied inside, catching the light and returning it a hundred times brighter.

  ‘Who to? You remember?’

  ‘He said he wanted something special. I told him these are the best. They are. You want me to demonstrate them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s a twenty dolor charge. Refund if you buy. You still want it?’

  ‘How much are the boots?’

  ‘Three hundred.’

  He looked at the box. ‘You said three?’

  She picked up the box and started to turn away.

  He put his hand out. ‘Show me.’

  ‘Show me twenty, then.’

  He gave her his payflake. She watched the credit go through, said, ‘Thank you, Mr Bale,’ then took a small case from the sleeve of the bootbox and slid a grey metal disc carefully into the palm of her hand, keeping her fingers clear of the curl of brilliant gold leaf set in the centre of the disc.

  ‘Watch closely,’ she said. ‘You’re paying a lot of money for this.’ She laid the disc on the counter, glanced at Bale, then gently touched the very edge of the leaf with the tip of a finger. The entire leaf instantly turned a dull black. She said, ‘Okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You want the rest of the demonstration, or should I give you ten back and let you walk out? I don’t usually make that offer, only you look pathetic.’

  ‘Just do it.’

  She slid a second disc from the case and went to the window tank, docked the disc in the access door and eased it all the way out to the centre of the window on a skeletal feed-arm. The arm shuddered as the wind built.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘As you’ll know, the wind modifies the material’s behaviour. In the still, these boots are max sensitive. Other NTGs, you can brush against them and they’ll hold their colour. Not the golds. One touch on the sole, like I showed you, and the whole boot goes black. That’s in the still. In the wind, the molecular structure shifts. Watch.’ She played the controls of the box, pulled some scree into the wind, let it pepper the disc, then stilled the wind, and pulled the disc out, handing it carefully to Bale. The metal was deeply pitted but the central leaf was still gold and perfect, smooth as a lens.

  Bale gave the leaf the barest smear of his fingertip. It instantly turned black.

  She told him, ‘Like I said, these are the best. I don’t refund for accidental touch. You can insure them, but they never pay out. Still interested?’

  ‘You sold him exactly these?’

  She tipped the dead discs into a burnbin and nodded.

  ‘You seen him before?’

  She held up the box. ‘You buying these, Mr Bale?’

  ‘Yes. He take anything else to go with them?’

  ‘Two eighty, then. He bought a suit. Said he hadn’t ridden the Chute in years. Took a fast suit, though, knew exactly what he wanted, all the fins and cutters.’

  ‘He try the suit out in your window?’

  ‘No. Said he was sure it’d come back to him. You looking for a suit too?’

  ‘He paid hard money, didn’t he? Wasn’t carrying a flake. You banked the notes already?’

  ‘It’s legal. You’re Pax?’

  ‘Not today. You got cams here?’

  ‘Usually. That day we had a surge.’

  Bale nodded easily. The guy had either paid her to wipe her records, or else he’d wiped them himself. ‘I guess you wouldn’t recognise him again.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s an old friend. I haven’t seen him in a while. I just wondered if he’s changed much.’ Bale gave her his card. ‘Taller than me. Used to have brown hair. Is it still brown?’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’ Putting the payflake through, she said, ‘He told me someone might be coming in. Normally I only carry one set of the gold; it takes a while for new stock to come in. But he said to order some more right now. I guess that was you.’

  Bale held the box up. The boots shifted gently in their gelair packing. ‘He did us both a favour, then.’

  She got interested again. ‘You’re sure you don’t need the suit? I can show you what he took.’

  ‘No. I think that’s all.’

  About to give him back his payflake, she said, ‘There was a message, now I think of it. It was a bit odd. He said only to give it to someone if they bought the boots. He said to tell you he was hoping he’d only have to wear one set.’ She looked at Bale to see if it made sense to him, adding, ‘I’m sure I got that right. It make sense to you?’

  ‘Yes. He’s a crazy guy.’

  For the first time, she smiled at him. Bale, at the door, turned and said, ‘That old burn on the back of his right hand – he still keeps flexing it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Hey, should I get some more of these boots?’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother.’

  * * *

  Tallen

  ‘How are you?’ said Lode.

  ‘Well done,’ Beata said. ‘You survived your tour.’

  Tallen rolled out of the bed and took himself a drink. It smelt faintly of the sea. He said, ‘Are you surprised?’

  The humechs looked solid enough, their features fixed. If you squinted, they might have been real. Human. Lode said, ‘No, we are pleased. We are pleased about you.’

  ‘And for you,’ said Beata.

  Tallen sat in a chair. He was sure there hadn’t been a chair in the room last time. He said, ‘How much of this is real?’

  ‘It is all real,’ Lode said.

  Beata said, ‘When that stops, you are dead.’

  Tallen said, ‘My headache. Explain that.’

  ‘The headache is your tool. The bilge has been damaged for a short while. We left it for you to discover. Your test.’

  Reality alone wasn’t enough, though. He was starting to find the mechs’ mixture of solicitousness and disengagement irritating. He said, ‘Suppose it hadn’t been damaged. Would you have created a problem?’

  ‘There is always a problem,’ Beata said.

  The drink tasted of the sea. He threw the cup away, but the taste was still in his mouth and nose. ‘I dreamt of the sea,’ he said. ‘I was back in a bodycage again.’

  Lode said, ‘It was not a bodycage. It was to protect you. You were on deck. There is an open capsule designed for these exposures.’

  ‘It was real?’ He closed his eyes, remembering.

  ‘Yes,’ Beata said. ‘That was a reward. The sea is something special for you. Your sensory adaptation incorporates an awareness of it, so that it can invigorate you.’

  Tallen rubbed his eyes.

  Lode said, ‘But you are special, Tallen. Unique. What was done to you has left you very sensitive indeed. It is more than a strength. Much more. You must be careful.’

  Tallen said, ‘I’m sorry. You aren’t being clear. You look like people and you speak in sentences, but it doesn’t quite make sense. It makes me feel as if there’s something wrong with me.’

  ‘We know that. We are sorry.’

  ‘It is not you. It is us.’

  He said, ‘I’d rather see you as you are. Your appearance confuses me.’

  Beata and Lode glanced at each other. ‘That should pass,’ they said.

  * * *

  Bale

  Bale stood in the corridor and said, ‘Hi, Delta.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Bale?’

  ‘I’m saying goodbye to a friend. Visiting her at home. You’re not
on duty, are you?’ She hesitated and he said, ‘I know you’re not. You came off an hour ago.’

  ‘Come in, but you know I can’t talk to you.’ She glanced along the corridor before closing the door behind him.

  ‘Then listen to me. The last victim, remember? In the alley. I was drunk. You should have stood me down. Why didn’t you?’

  She sat down at the small table and pushed her breakfast bowl aside. ‘You wouldn’t listen to me, like you never listen to anyone. You aren’t now. Just go, Bale. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘All you needed to do was cut me out of the commslink.’

  ‘Everyone was needed. I was told to keep you in. To keep everyone in.’

  ‘Who told you to keep me in?’

  ‘I said everyone, not just you, Bale. I asked if I should delink you and they said keep everyone. I was worried about you.’

  ‘Who said it? You were odd with me from the go. Telling me to call you Officer Kerlew.’

  She stood up and took the bowl into the kitchen, where she placed it in the sink. Bale followed her. ‘There were observers from Admin that week. They were all over us. They turned up a week ahead of the event.’

  Bale was right behind her. ‘Observers? I didn’t know about that.’

  ‘A team of auditors. Checking our routines, everything. When the incident started, they were there, watching everything we did. They said we did fine.’

  ‘Fine? I was down there unarmed.’

  ‘I know. It was a mess. The team were really good about it. They said Navid shouldn’t be too hard on you.’ The water in the sink rose, bringing the dirty bowl with it. She poked it back down with a finger.

  Bale asked, ‘Did Navid send you to the hospital to see me?’

  ‘No, that was just me. I know what you’re like. I didn’t want you to get into more trouble. And I felt bad. If you’d listened to me, you’d still be a Paxer. I’m not going to feel bad about it, Bale.’

  ‘The auditors – were they there all night, or did they just arrive for the event?’

  ‘They were there all along. Hell, Bale, I know you so well. You think they knew about it in advance? You think they set it all up as a test, some excuse to shed you?’ She shook her head. ‘You think too much. They were there all day and all night the whole week, checking routines, cams, locations, patrols. Day and night. And our records, they went through everything. Routine inspection, that’s all.’

  ‘How come I never knew they were here?’

  ‘It was a secret audit. Nothing new about that. So activity’s as routine as possible.’

  ‘Word always gets out.’

  She pushed him towards the door. ‘They said that. They said if it got out this time, we’d lose our jobs. I don’t want to lose my job. Please go now.’

  ‘They’ve gone, have they?’

  ‘I think so. Goodbye, Bale.’

  * * *

  Razer

  Razer woke up with the image of the tossed glittering scrap of metal in her mind and said the name aloud. Chorst Maerley! That was who Larren Gamliel had reminded her of.

  Maerley wasn’t hard to find on the Song, and her comm was picked up within two seconds of the send.

  ‘Hey, Razer, you look good. Odd timing. I was thinking about you.’

  Maerley didn’t look so good. His skin was speckled and there was a tremor to his cheek. She said, ‘I saw a VoteNow on AfterLife a few days back that reminded me of you. Maybe you saw that and thought of me?’

  ‘No,’ he said, and laughed, the tremor modifying the easy chuckle she remembered. He said, ‘Who’d ever want me back? I sure wouldn’t.’

  ‘His name was Larren Gamliel.’

  ‘Let me check.’ Maerley’s head went out of sight for a moment. ‘No, I didn’t get that cast, and it doesn’t come up. You know how it is; they sometimes tailor these things. I’ll look for it later and give the poor bastard a yes. Where are you?’

  ‘Bleak. In Lookout.’

  ‘You kidding? How did you find out I was here?’ He shook his head and said, ‘I thought you never went back to old stories.’

  ‘I don’t. That’s weird you’re here. Listen, I haven’t got time to talk now, but what are you doing here?’

  ‘Working. Why else would I have come to this place? Though if I’d known you were going to be here –’

  She cut him off. ‘You said you’d been thinking of me. Why?’

  ‘We talked a lot about subsea travel, remember? I taught you how to pilot subs? Well, I’ve just completed and sold three vehicles for extreme subsea conditions, and now I’ve got this other client wanting a single unit, very similar. And here am I now, thinking of you because of that, and –’

  ‘What clients?’

  Maerley shook his head. ‘Couldn’t tell you even if I knew.’

  ‘When did you get the work?’

  ‘The first one a few months back. The second one a few days ago. Big rush. And like I said, just after I’d just finished the other subsea job for someone else. I guess word travels. I’ve never been so busy.’

  ‘The second client. Was that a face-to-face meet?’

  ‘Most of my meets are by vis-comm, but this one was putting themselves through a crypted mesh.’

  ‘Like an AI?’

  ‘This wasn’t an AI. But yes, like one. Why?’

  ‘And the first client?’

  ‘You’re pushing it, Razer. Crimers or mercs, no doubt. And that’s enough questions. You said you don’t go back to old stories.’

  ‘No. Listen, Maerley, can I see you? For old times?’

  He laughed, though his lips trembled for seconds after the end of it. ‘There are no old times any more.’

  ‘For remembering good times, then. We did have good times, didn’t we? Where are you?’

  ‘I bet you’re like this with all your old stories. I’m down by the rigyards. I’ve set myself up behind a hostel, The Rig at Rest. It would be good to see you, Razer.’

  She nilled the comms and touched the nub of the augmem at her ear. Maerley was here, then. Was all of this coincidence? She thought of Tallen. It would be good to see him, but that wasn’t possible any more.

  * * *

  Tallen

  Back in Lookout, before he’d ever imagined himself on one, Tallen had seen rigs in the rigyards. They had been orderly things, ridiculously scaled. On land, they had been incomprehensible; the cranes, the winches and their great wheels and ratchets, the cantilevered decks, the derricks, cables, pulleys and drills. A rig was more like the bones of a shallow-orbit dock than anything else. Back in Lookout, Tallen could more easily have imagined rigs spinning through empty space than in the maelstrom of the sea.

  But from the confines of his cage on the deck of this rig, soaked and battered and nearly drowned, and exhilarated beyond all measure, Tallen saw that it was only here that a rig made sense. This was the opposite of space. On deck, everywhere was full of object or event. The deck, crashing with water, was stacked with locked-down pyramids of pipe and casing. Booms swung across the sky, and the sky shed water so heavily that Tallen couldn’t tell where it ended and the sea began.

  Now, after a month, Tallen thought he was starting to go crazy. He walked the entire rig every two days, alternating the subsea and the oversea sections. He was tuned so completely to the rig’s systems-checks and monitoring putery that the slightest dysfunction gave him dizziness or nausea, stomach ache or cramp in an arm or a leg, or a toothache, and depending on where he was walking, he would know what the problem was, and where. His constant retinue of fixers would congregate and supervise the repair.

  ‘I don’t see why you need me,’ Tallen told the humechs. ‘Your systems would catch everything.’

  ‘Yes, but not always swiftly enough,’ said Beata. ‘There are small problems, imperceptibly progressive faults, like the bilge keel in your test.’

  He frowned, unable to fix a memory. ‘What test?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lode. ‘Problems are e
asier to fix when we catch them early. If they are external, small things can become large very quickly. Big things we have to catch immediately. Putery could do it, but at that level of complexity, the human brain is more efficient and economical.’

  ‘That is why you’re here, Tallen,’ Beata said.

  ‘Or someone else,’ said Lode.

  Tallen found his head twitching from one humech to the other as they spoke. It was almost hypnotic. The constant shifting of attention was grinding away at him. It was stopping him from thinking straight.

  ‘We know how the life here wears you down,’ Beata said. ‘The concentration. The pain. Over time, they will affect you.’

  ‘They will affect your efficiency,’ said Lode. ‘But you’re the best we’ve ever seen. You might have been designed for this. Your neural augmentations and our systems are almost symbiotic. You are amazingly fast.’

  ‘Please don’t talk at me like this,’ Tallen said weakly. He tried to stand up, but he was already standing.

  ‘Though you are more sensitive than is usual,’ said Lode. ‘We don’t know if you’ll last longer for this reason.’

  ‘Or less long,’ said Beata.

  Tallen put his hand in his pocket and closed a fist around the handle of the knife. It was oddly comforting, though he had no idea how it had got there. He pulled his wits together and said, ‘But why is there no one else human here? Surely that would make sense. I’d have company and you’d have backup.’

  ‘Conflict develops. It didn’t work, ever. A side-effect of humans, unfortunately.’

  He searched for expression in their faces, but there was none. Sometimes there was. And they always stood the same distance apart, and the same distance from him. He asked, ‘What happens at night, when I sleep?’

  ‘We walk you. You don’t stop working,’ said Beata. ‘It is efficient. The sea doesn’t stop. It is also efficient.’

  Lode said, ‘We also reward you, as you have seen. The sea appears to –’ Lode glanced at Beata.

  ‘– to increase your efficiency. More so than anyone before you.’

  ‘We don’t understand that,’ Lode said. ‘It makes no sense to us.’

  ‘But there is much about you that makes no sense.’