Multireal

by David Louis Edelman

  "But is such compromise not enough for you? Do you yearn for that ultimate freedom without compromise? You can have it, any time you want! Simply halt your government subscriptions, stop paying your fees, and float out with the diss. It's that easy. No one will stop you. In fact, the Prime Committee has prohibited governments from keeping citizens on their membership rosters by force or coercion. Some L-PRACGs will actually pay you to leave the ranks of another L-PRACG.

  "But such freedom is still not good enough for some in the libertarian movement. And so they found a champion-a Surina, no less, daughter of scientists and freethinkers. The social contract is a thing of the past! she claimed. Let's do away with limitations! Let's embrace ultimate freedom!

  "We don't need a global experiment to see where that path leads. If you're interested in seeing the end result of complete and unrestricted liberty, look no further than this man Natch."

  Rey Gonerev stopped in front of Natch and extended one talon straight toward his chest. Jara leaned forward and looked at the entrepreneur's expression. He seemed oblivious to the chief solicitor's finger, to the hushed attention of thousands of spectators. And then, just as the Blade lowered her hand and started to speak again, Jara could see a macabre smile creep onto Natch's face.

  The solicitor resumed her speech. "Here in this auditorium sits the ultimate freedom made flesh. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Natch, former master of the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp! A man who recognizes no laws but his own, who ignores all boundaries but those that suit his own purposes. Here is a man who has ruthlessly rejected the social contract time and time again for his own personal selfgratification. To enrich his own freedom, if you will.

  "And what has Natch chosen to do with that freedom?

  "At the age of fifteen, he got into a quarrel with another boy during initiation. Did he settle his differences with words and arguments? No, Natch got his revenge by leading an enraged bear into his camp. Three boys died as a result, and a fourth was horribly maimed.

  "At the age of eighteen, Natch masterminded a scam to steal customers from a rival programmer by impersonating government officers. The Meme Cooperative was unable to gather enough evidence to prosecute him. Instead, his rival was convicted of these crimes and the rival's license was suspended.

  "At the age of twenty, Natch received his first-but not his lastfine from the Meme Cooperative for possession of black code. A petty crime and a negligible punishment? Yes-but the result of a plea bargain with authorities who were once again unable to find enough evidence to make any charges stick.

  "By the age of twenty-four, when he founded the Natch Personal Programming Fiefcorp, this man was regularly violating the rules of the Meme Cooperative. To date, the Defense and Wellness Council has cataloged a list of a hundred and twenty such violations. And believe me, those are only the ones we have sufficient evidence to prove before an arbitration board.

  "At the age of twenty-eight, Natch made a suspicious deal to merge his fiefcorp with a shell company of Margaret Surina's. Even though he was younger and less experienced than his rivals-even though he had little money to bring to the table-Margaret gave Natch a fifty percent stake in her revolutionary MultiReal technology. Why? What would drive a woman to spend two decades researching and developing a product, and then blithely hand it over to someone she had just met? We can only imagine.

  "Within days of his arrangement with Margaret Surina, Natch made a large cash payment to Creed Thassel. Creed Thassel, an organization notorious for secrecy and deceit.

  "Within six weeks, Natch tried to blackmail the Defense and Wellness Council by threatening to auction off MultiReal on the Data Sea to the highest bidder.

  "Within hours of that performance, Margaret Surina, bodhisattva of Creed Surina and creator of MultiReal technology, was dead.

  "And within hours of that, a member of Natch's own fiefcorp launched a preemptive attack on Lieutenant Executive Magan Kai Lee as he was gathering evidence at the scene of Surina's murder.

  "And by sheer luck-by the merest coincidence-there was a worldwide outbreak of libertarian unrest last week, just when public opinion began to turn against this man. A memo began to circulate on the Data Sea, and not even the Council's most ardent critics claim to have any evidence for its authenticity. This unrest sparked into violence at the funeral of Margaret Surina, the very emblem of the freedom that our libertarian colleagues revere.

  "Does Natch revere the accomplishments of the Surinas, or does he mock them?

  "Natch's legal guardian stood before you the other day and proposed we give this man the ultimate freedom. He made a very shrewd and clever speech where he tried to put the struggle for MultiReal in a larger libertarian context.

  "So let's do as he bids! Let's put this man permanently beyond the power of the Defense and Wellness Council-because with MultiReal at his command, no Council officer will be able to restrain him. Let's put this man beyond the power of any government authority-or didn't you notice that MultiReal doesn't require approval from Dr. Plugenpatch and the Meme Cooperative? Let's make sure this man isn't even account able to the marketplace that the libertarians so venerate-because with the money he'll make from MultiReal, he won't even need to submit his programs to the Primo's bio/logic investment guide.

  "Serr Vigal proposes we strip this man Natch of all restraints and limitations, just to see what he does. A little experiment, if you will.

  "So I ask the esteemed members of the Prime Committee: what does Natch plan to do with the ultimate freedom that MultiReal provides? What do you think he'll do? Will he try to lift the diss out of poverty? Will he pursue diplomacy between the Islanders and the Pharisees? Will he set up a charitable fund for orphans?"

  Rey Gonerev paused for a moment to let the point sink in. Jara looked around and noticed that the atmosphere in the Tul Jabbor Complex had grown irretrievably gloomy since the chief solicitor began her speech. The smiles that had adorned the faces of her fellow fiefcorpers a mere hour ago had all but disappeared. Across the floor, the bodhisattva of Creed Libertas looked worried, and Khann Frejohr looked downright grim.

  The Blade struck a humble pose as she continued in a less emphatic tone of voice. "So what does the Defense and Wellness Council propose we do about this man?" she said. "What does the Council want with this technology?

  "Some believe that Len Borda seeks to lock up MultiReal forever or put a permanent moratorium on it. They claim the Council wishes to use it as some kind of doomsday weapon. They speak as if there are no shades of gray in the argument-as if our only choices are for the government to enact a total ban on MultiReal or for MultiReal to be distributed to every man, woman, and child from here to Furtoid.

  "As you ponder the situation we face, I want you to remember this. It's the libertarians who want to limit your options, not High Executive Borda. Not the Defense and Wellness Council.

  "But before we come to the point where you must make a decision about the fate of MultiReal, I believe the time has come to demon strate what's at stake. I think the men and women of the Prime Committee should see the power of MultiReal firsthand.

  "And so before I take any questions, I'd like to call one of the few people who has experienced the power of MultiReal firsthand to give us a brief demonstration.

  "If it pleases the Prime Committee, I'd like to ask Petrucio Patel, master of the Patel Brothers Fiefcorp, to step forward."

  Jara made an audible hiss, though she wasn't sure why she felt so surprised. Had she really thought the only other company marketing MultiReal products would be able to avoid testifying before the Prime Committee?

  As Petrucio Patel emerged from a door on the governmentalist side of the auditorium, Jara had to admit that the fiefcorp master looked all too prepared for this summons. The shoulder pads of his robe filled out his otherwise lanky frame, transforming him from a lean alley cat into a sultry, confident panther. Petrucio smiled, nodded briefly at the audience, and gave his mustache a final grooming stroke as he re
ached Rey Gonerev's side. In his right hand, he held a baseball bat. Under his left arm, a box.

  The Blade whispered something inaudible to Petrucio, and by the way his shoulders tensed Jara could tell he wasn't pleased. Seconds later, he removed his scarf to reveal a prominent pin featuring the black-and-white swirled logo of Creed Objectivv. So the Council still has its daggers in the Patel Brothers, Jara thought.

  The muttering among the libertarian sympathizers in the audience rose several decibels, and Jara could see one of the Council guards nearby tense up. Khann Frejohr and his libertarian allies looked perturbed. Natch did not seem to care one way or the other.

  Horvil and Benyamin, meanwhile, were having an intense back-and forth about parliamentary rules of order. "Can Gonerev even do that?" said Ben in a heated whisper. "Can she just call forward her own witness?"

  "It's a hearing, not a trial," replied Horvil, gesturing at the Vault representative in the row directly below them. "And it doesn't look like any of the Committee members are about to object." In fact, some of them were craning forward in their wrought-iron chairs to get a better look.

  The analyst thought back to her meeting with the Patel Brothers and desperately tried to remember the exact wording of their discussion. Had Petrucio said anything about helping or hindering the company's pursuit of MultiReal? Jara had purposefully kept the wording of their brief agreement vague. Would a demonstration of MultiReal before the Prime Committee violate that agreement in any way? What if Petrucio had already made a conflicting agreement with the Council several months earlier? The analyst took a sidelong glance at Merri, feeling a new appreciation for the difficulties of the Objectivv truth-telling oath.

  "Towards Perfection," said Petrucio to the Prime Committee, his poise recovered. He set the box down on the floor and made a sweeping bow that encompassed all 360 degrees of the circle. "It's an honor to be called before the Committee."

  Rey Gonerev reached down into the box and pulled out a classic league baseball. "Before we get into more extensive demonstrations, I'd like to start by reenacting Natch's performance at Andra Pradesh last month," she said. "Petrucio, why don't you tell us what you're doing."

  Patel nodded and moved into a batter's crouch, which looked quite absurd in such a loosely tailored robe. "I'm going to hit the ball into the fourth ring of the auditorium, three rows above the gentleman from the orbital colonies," he said, arching his chin in that direction. "I'm now reaching out to the MultiReal interface and preparing to activate it."

  A rumble.

  The Blade stepped back several paces and made an underhanded pitch to the bio/logic programmer.

  Petrucio got ready to swing. "Activating-"

  And then Natch was out of his seat, hurtling through the small passage under the Committee members' ring onto the floor of the auditorium. His eyes screamed insanity; his arms signaled panic.

  The ball connected with Petrucio's bat, and the infoquake was upon them.

  34

  The baseball arced into the audience somewhere above Jara's head. She never thought about it again.

  Such was the force of the infoquake that even the fleet-footed Magan Kai Lee was tossed hither and thither like a pinball. Jara gaped in disbelief at the purple bruise mushrooming on the Council lieutenant's forehead, then found herself sucked down into Benyamin's lap. She hadn't even realized she had stood up in the first place. Within seconds, the entire fiefcorp was tangled in a confused pile, and Robby Robby's bony ass might have been the only thing that kept a falling spectator from snapping Jara's neck in two.

  Voices in her head. Deep gouges in her mental databases. OCHREs furiously pinging Dr. Plugenpatch. Notices warnings screams ConfidentialWhispers-

  Jara clambered to her feet and managed to bring her internal systems to something a few rungs down from normalcy. The trick was to avoid the reflex to fire up bio/logic relief and to shut down as many programs as possible instead. She clutched the railing and looked around the auditorium.

  In the few minutes since the infoquake began, the Tul Jabbor Complex had descended into pandemonium. Prime Committee members and their retinues were ducking, cowering, fleeing through side exits. Jara recognized the staid Plugenpatch representative standing on his chair, yelling an indecipherable plea for calm. Down on the auditorium floor, the Blade had found her way to the wall and was wobbling against it on unsteady feet. Meanwhile, a confused Petrucio Patel was staring at the baseball bat in his hands in shock. The end of it was stained red from his own bloody nose, though how he had acquired that was unclear.

  Petrucio had nothing to do with this, Jara thought. He's just as surprised as anyone. But if Petrucio Patel didn't launch this attack-then who did?

  She surveyed the remaining members of the Prime Committee, quailing under their wrought-iron chairs, and had another insight: the libertarians had just lost their case. Moments ago, the Committee had been the very model of probity and open-mindedness; now they were surrendering to dumb animal panic. Animals banded together when threatened and sought to protect themselves at all costs. No, despite Vigal's lofty rhetoric and common sense, Jara could see that nothing would persuade the Prime Committee to overrule Len Borda now.

  So the infoquake was a tool of Len Borda's then? A desperate attempt to thumb down the scales of justice? Natch had expressed that opinion several times, and Jara had been inclined to agree with him.

  But something didn't quite add up. If the high executive was going to execute such an attack, wouldn't he have prepared the guards of the Defense and Wellness Council first? The officers in white robes and yellow stars were milling around the auditorium in confusion like everyone else, cut off from their chain of command and unsure what to do. Some were attempting to herd audience members out the doors peaceably, while others were trying to block the doors and keep everyone inside.

  If the infoquake is a governmentalist plot, thought the analyst, then why isn't the government ready for it?

  "What's going on?" mumbled a voice. Merri, struggling to find her feet in a quite literal sense, as they were buried under Horvil and Robby.

  "We need to get out of here," said Jara. "Now, before the crowd-"

  She stopped short as some word of authority finally penetrated the data vomit and took hold of the Council officers one by one. Within seconds, a handful of Len Borda's lackeys around the auditorium had drawn their dartguns and moved to the railings. They took careful aim and centered on a single target.

  Natch.

  He had heard the rumbling. He had felt the tremors. He had sensed the computational maelstrom raging from afar.

  He had tried to run.

  Now he kneels on the cold floor of the Tul Jabbor Complex, writhing in the acid bath of the infoquake. Data piercing his mental defenses like shrapnel, OCHREs thrumming crazily and heating up nearly to the melting point. He sees patterns within patterns, things not visible in any spectrum. Somewhere in his peripheral vision he sees Serr Vigal, passed out on the stone but still breathing. Elsewhere he catches a glimpse of a figure in a white robe shouldering his dart-rifle.

  The nothingness at the center of the universe.

  The guardian and the keeper.

  You find yourself capable of strange things when you run out of choices.

  I can handle everything the world throws at me. Just watch.

  Natch closes his eyes. It's hard enough to concentrate through all the noise; the infoquake just makes things worse. But he has to concentrate; he has to. He flings his mind onto the Data Sea and finds live video feeds from every conceivable angle, the perspectives of scared drudges watching the scene unfold from the audience. With his own eyes, Natch can only see and react to what's in front of his face. Here in the infinite ocean of information, he can see all.

  Natch gathers his courage and activates MultiReal.

  Magan came to and reached reflexively for the dartgun at his side. The corrugated surface of the grip felt like safety. With the other hand he probed his forehead for the bruise h
e had received striking his head against the railing. Still sore, but healing quickly through the miracle of OCHRE technology.

  He pried open his eyelids, scrambled shakily to his feet, and tried to take inventory of the situation. Infoquake ebbing and flowing. Audience members fleeing. Petrucio Patel crawling slowly toward the stairway. Prime Committee members safe. Officers of the Defense and Wellness Council gathering at the railings, shoving spectators aside, aiming their dartguns at Natch.

  And firing.

  Magan gaped dumbly as eight or nine darts whizzed through the air toward the center of the auditorium. The Council lieutenant rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was experiencing some kind of residual hallucination from the infoquake. Every single officer missed the target.

  There was another volley, then another. Natch remained kneeling on the floor, cocooned in his own internal awareness. The needles tinked harmlessly onto the stone around him.

  Magan had commanded more missions than he could count. He had seen Council troops on good days and bad; he had seen horribly botched raids, officers in white robes twitching in their death throes with heads staved in by Islander shock batons. For half a dozen officers to fire on a stationary target less than thirty meters away and all miss ... it defied the laws of probability. Even factoring in the occasional jostled elbow, the steep angle, and the intermittent aftershocks of the infoquake, Magan had never seen a team of uniformed officers perform so poorly. MultiReal, he thought. Natch must be using MultiReal.

  Lieutenant Executive Lee snapped into combat mode between one instant and the next. He made sure the dartgun in his hand was cocked and loaded with a variety of black code routines and felt the battle language algorithms slide over his mind like a glove. "Instant broker! Parallel!" he barked at the soldiers, waving his arms in the air. Stop! Stop, you fools!